“Am I Done?” | The Players' Tribune
We were about to land at Waukesha County Airport, and I sat up for just a second to catch a glimpse of my hometown from the sky. They had made a bed for me on the plane because after my surgery, I wasn’t supposed to be in a seated position for long periods of time.
As the wheels touched down, I remember thinking, Man, I needed this.
Waiting there at terminal for me was Mr. Keefe, husband of the legendary Mrs. Keefe, my fourth grade teacher. I wasn’t allowed to drive, and my hometown isn’t exactly an Uber hotbed, so Mr. Keefe picked me up no questions asked.
It was the beginning of this fall. Normally, I never get to be home in the fall. The leaves were changing. The air was crisp. The nostalgia came over me. As we drove through my hometown, I thought about everything that had happened over the past year.
One broken hand.
One staph infection.
Two torn abs.
Three torn adductor muscles.
Dat HGH keep breh together like Wolverine
We were about to land at Waukesha County Airport, and I sat up for just a second to catch a glimpse of my hometown from the sky. They had made a bed for me on the plane because after my surgery, I wasn’t supposed to be in a seated position for long periods of time.
As the wheels touched down, I remember thinking, Man, I needed this.
Waiting there at terminal for me was Mr. Keefe, husband of the legendary Mrs. Keefe, my fourth grade teacher. I wasn’t allowed to drive, and my hometown isn’t exactly an Uber hotbed, so Mr. Keefe picked me up no questions asked.
It was the beginning of this fall. Normally, I never get to be home in the fall. The leaves were changing. The air was crisp. The nostalgia came over me. As we drove through my hometown, I thought about everything that had happened over the past year.
One broken hand.
One staph infection.
Two torn abs.
Three torn adductor muscles.
Dat HGH keep breh together like Wolverine
