He had been here once before, but Scott would argue that he was a completely different person then. The practice was small, nestled into a corner of a corporate building a few streets over from the hospital. He came here because it was recommended to him by his trainer and Scott, back then, was willing to do anything to get better, to improve his skills.
Scott stomped his boots just inside the automatic doors and turned to wave to his driver. He closed his umbrella as he stood over the rug, shaking it out so he wouldn't drip water over the most likely already slippery tiles of this building. Everything was almost too quiet to feel like something other than a weird horror movie. The fluorescent lights were flickering just a little too much to make him feel comfortable, and he hated that he was letting a little silence get to him like it was.
He would be ashamed to admit that the elevator only freaked him out more.
It wasn't until the doors opened onto the third floor that things were livelier. Namely, because they opened straight to a front desk. The woman sitting behind it looked up with a smile. He stepped up to edge of it. It was too organized. It annoyed him.
"Scott Hoying, correct?" She paused and waited. His nod was her cue to keep moving. Scott wondered if she remembered him from the one time he had been here before or from the news now. Or maybe it was because his management had specifically asked to get him in after hours so he would be able to get in and out without any eyes or press on him.
Scott reached up to poke the orange and yellow jelly letters stuck to the front of the glass surface. Happy Halloween.
"I just need you to sign this paperwork and provide insurance and we can take you back."
Scott looked up to see that she had stood and was holding a pen and paper out to him. He smiled tightly and scribbled his name where it was highlighted and passed it back, pulling his wallet out to give her whatever was needed.
He sort of felt like he was in a strange dream. But did the feelings count if you knew you were going to feel like that before you even got there? He hadn't been anywhere other than his house, the training facility, and the Starbucks in between the two in what felt like months. It probably wasn't far from the truth now, actually. He wasn't sure though. He hadn't really been keeping up with the days anymore.
The woman disappeared behind a wall and opened the door to his left. He followed her through the halls, examining the weird pastels and medical posters of bones and muscles framed neatly and hung perfectly.
"You can just go ahead and change into the robes." Scott's eyes followed her hand where she was pointing to see a neatly folded white fabric with small green dots. "Dr. Grassi will be with you shortly." The door to the room was shut loudly and Scott sighed.
Alright. Time to start healing.
***
Mitch was very nervous, honestly. He had only treated Scott Hoying once, and while he was very polite and talkative, that was nearly two years ago. Scott had to have changed. Everything he had been through in just the past year alone could drive someone insane.
Mitch knew his own fragile heart and emotions would not have been able to bounce back like Scott seemed to have. The media made him look like he was doing well getting back on his feet, but his management had called a little over a week ago to set up this appointment and sounded more than serious when asking him to see Scott after hours. And even faxed over a confidentiality contract.
Not that he would relay any of Scott's health information to anyone, but he could understand why in this industry they would make him sign something.
All of this made him feel like there was something more going on there. And obviously, if Scott was coming to a chiropractor, there was probably something hurting him or something wrong. Mitch was surprised he had waited so long after the accident to come in if that was the case.
The beautiful blond secretary, Kirstin, had come to inform him that Scott was in room three. Mitch washed his hands and made sure his clothes and coat were straight before locating his previous file and running over it to have something to compare Scott to.
He swiftly walked down the hall and knocked gently on the door before pulling it open slightly. Scott looked up from his phone from where he was sitting on the edge of an examination table. "Hi, Scott. Dr. Mitch Grassi." He stepped forward and held his hand out. One of Scott's long arms reached forward to shake his hand. "I'm under the impression we are doing a full examination?"
Scott nodded his head. "Dr. Grassi, yes. Manager wants a full exam and report."
"Okay. I'm going to have you sit there facing the wall." Mitch set his stuff down and pulled out gloves to slip on. His eyes scanned down Scott's bare back since the robe hadn't been tied. Scott's skin was a little flushed. "Do you remember how we did this the first time?" He wasn't sure if Scott remembered him really, but maybe he would remember how this works.
"Yes. I remember."
Right. Mitch got to work with a typical exam. Starting at the top of his spine. "It's going to go the same way and I am going to ask mostly the same questions, just answer to the best of your ability."
"Okay." He could hear Scott swallow in the silence.
"Are there any major changes to your medical history?"
"Um..." There was hesitation to talk, but Mitch couldn't blame him. "The car accident gave me whiplash, but other than that, no. No major injuries."
Scott resisted letting him push him around at first, but realized quickly he was fighting it and Mitch directed him to lean forwards and backwards.
"Career history?"
"Still with MMA."
"Any pain?"
"Hmm..." Scott twisted his arm to point to his lower back. "Sometimes here, but not often."
"When did it start?"
"Recently compared to the rest. Maybe a couple months ago."
Hmm, that was strange to Mitch. He thought that Scott would be in here because of after-effects from the wreck, but he looked fine so far. Nothing seemed to be moving out of place or inflamed.
"And my arms still." He could see Scott flex his hands in his peripheral.
"Has that pain worsened? Would you describe it as sharp or dull?" He remembered that his arms were something he had talked about the last time he was here, and really, it only made sense. His career was about throwing his fists at people. They were bound to hurt.
"I don't think so, but I can't tell honestly. Probably closer to a dull pain, but every once in a while I throw one and it's for sure a sharp pain."
"What about your left hip? That still giving you problems?" Mitch directed him onto his side and started examining his legs and hip bones.
"Yes. I'd say it's worse. Dull pain."
Now that Mitch was getting a much closer look at Scott Hoying, he could see a pretty big difference in his body from the last time he was here. He was still probably the most handsome man he had ever laid eyes on and he was still more fit than most of the patients he has, but there was a slight noticeable decay in his musculature. He didn't hold himself quite as straight or confidently. There was some bruising on his ribs and knuckles obviously from a fight, his hands were slightly shaky, and Mitch wondered if Scott was feeling this difference. Wondered if that is why he was in here in the first place.
"Do you notice if this pain gets worse while training or in a match? Or directly after? I know that's probably hard to tell since you are recovering from getting hit, but it's important to figure out what is causing this so we can work out how to fix it."
Scott laughed quietly. "Um, I'm not sure about during. Mind blocks any pain in the moment. Training, yes. I can feel it in my arms especially after hitting the bag for a long time and usually after. Not sure if that is just my muscles fatigued or this pain though. And after a match, I guess yes. Everything hurts after a match."
Mitch smiled. Well, yeah. He would expect everything to hurt after that. He sat Scott back up and rolled a chair closer, taking one of his hands into his to examine it. He was careful around the faint bruising, aligning and popping his fingers and wrists. When he finished that, he looked up at him. "So, I hope you don't see this as rude, but why are you here? Don't you have a medical team for this? You don't seem to have any change that I should be concerned about other than the same things you came in for two years ago." Scott took his time to respond, both of them just looking back and forth between their eyes. When a little too much time passed, Mitch tried again. "Look, I will and want to help you to the best of my abilities, but I need a little more context. What changed that made you feel like you needed to see me?"
"My whole form is different. Kaplan says I've gotten lazy, but my entire life is training and fighting. If anything, I've been working harder but I'm not getting the results I want. Or the results the Kaplans want." Scott's voice was steady and deep. Mitch could tell he was frustrated but was internalizing it.
"Okay. So, let's come up with a plan. I think it would be good for you to get a full alignment of spine, arms, and hips at least once every two weeks until you can feel a difference. Bring in videos of you training before so I can see if I notice a difference in your body movements. Perhaps something is misaligned and we're missing it. "
Scott nodded his head. "I can do that. Let me talk to Kaplan and get them sent over."
"Good." Mitch wanted to talk to Kaplan. Maybe he could get a better feel for what changed physically. If Scott has been working as hard as he says he is, his body should be better and stronger, not worse and weaker like it is now. "Okay, let's get you aligned."
Scott took a deep breath. Mitch remembered he didn't really like this the first time. He would have to get used to it.
Scott was silent during the whole thing except for the quiet affirmations when Mitch would check to make sure he was comfortable and okay. His breathing was very controlled until Mitch would force air out of him.
Mitch was excited to be taking on Scott's case. He wanted to help him. He seemed like a genuinely good guy as far as he could tell. The media was always praising him for his charity work and it really was sad what had happened in the wreck. Scott was lucky to have come out of that as okay as he was.
***
Scott thought it was funny. This tiny man was leaning over him, twisting him and cracking his bones like he was a fucking twig. He had to admit that Dr. Grassi was a little unconventional as a doctor. He didn't really fit the stereotype, but it only intrigued Scott more. He was polite and kept checking if he was okay, which he always would be. Mitch didn't have his reputation for not being great at his job.
But it was still so funny to Scott that someone probably a whole thirty to forty pounds lighter than him could control his movements so easily. He would bet a hundred bucks that Mitch could probably take any person in the league, including Hanz from the Super Heavyweight Class, and bend them all to his will. If not by twisting them, just by the sheer determination on his face.
Mitch was pretty much just as he remembered him except now his hair was short with a bit of fringe hanging down in front of his forehead. Scott had always assumed doctors couldn't have piercings or tattoos, but Mitch's hands were littered and his ears sported simple studs.
He could see that Mitch was focused pretty hard, his eyes never straying from what he was examining on him and Scott was inexplicably nervous. He was always a little on edge when he had to go to a doctor's office for anything, but this examination seemed so much more serious. Mitch was pretty much his final option for a more full recovery before the season started. Whatever Mitch determined was wrong with him could make or break his career.
At least that is what it felt like.
Scott Squeezed his eyes shut as Mitch's body weight suddenly dropped on his shoulder and his spine twisted with a few satisfying loud pops. He let his breath out slowly as he stretched back out, feeling like blood was rushing to his head and not leaving him lightheaded. He felt better though. More relaxed.
As much as he didn't want to be here, and would rather be punching the shit out of a bag, Scott knew he needed to be. The Kaplan's knew it. Kevin knew it. His mom knew it. He was off his game. Had been for a long time now.
Scott hoped that Mitch could straighten him out. No pun intended, of course.
***
"Scott!"
Scott punched the bag ten more times before he stopped and dropped his arms and shook them out. He turned to see Avi and Esther hovering by the door of the training gym. "Yeah?"
Avi waved his hand to signal that he needed to come over. "Tired, yet?"
"What do you need?" Scott didn't mind Avi's relentless teasing, he had endured it for years, but if the way his fight went last night was any indication as to how his career was going to go, he really needed to step up his game.
"I talked to Dr. Mitch Grassi about your results." Esther chimed in and grabbed Scott's hand. She started to pull the wrapped tape off of it. "We have copies of your old matches for you to take the next time you go, but more importantly, we want him to come watch you practice and fight. See if his expertise on your bones will help us figure out why your stance has changed."
"More like why he's lazy now." Avi tapped the back of his hand on Scott's stomach with a teasing smile.
"When?"
"Your next fight is two days after your next appointment, so invite him along." Esther tossed the wad of bloodied tape into the trash can behind her and moved to the other hand. "Dr. Grassi seems dedicated." Scott was watching her hands but had glanced up just as Esther and Avi looked at each other.
"What?"
"Well, don't be upset." Avi stepped forwards and held his hand out. That sentence didn't make him not want to be upset, if anything it just primed the emotion in him. "We asked him to be on call for you. Be a part of your medical team."
"Avi, you can't just go around asking people to drop all of their responsibilities just to watch me fight." Scott pulled his hand out of Esther's and finished unwrapping it himself, turning and walking away from the Kaplan's.
Scott turned on the sink at the edge of the room and put his hands under the cold water, wincing at the initial contact.
"Scott. It'll only help you. He wants to help you, too." Avi appeared at his side and squeezed his shoulder with his hand.
"It's not your job to decide this stuff for me." Scott shook his head. "I don't want to be babied. I don't need to be analyzed and watched. I just want to fight."
"You know that you aren't doing your best. Last night's match proves that. We just want you to be successful."
Scott turned the water off and flung his hands before wiping them on his sweatpants. "You just want me to be back how I was, I get it. I'm trying." Avi and he had a complicated relationship. He had known him since high school and were super close for a really long time. Not that Scott didn't like him as a manager, but sometimes he could see the way Avi looked at things now. His fighters were money makers and Avi would do everything to make them more profitable. It made complete sense. That's what he expected of him, but he was trying to get back to his old self so hard. It still wasn't good enough for Avi apparently.
"I want you healthy. If your fighting style changes, so be it."
"As long as I win, right?" Scott didn't want to be sarcastic, but he was ready to go home and crash now. His arms were aching and his ribs hurt like a bitch. Enough to make breathing a little uncomfortable.
"We've had this conversation, Scott." Avi sighed. "Look, just talk to Dr. Grassi about coming. You know you need his help, so get over yourself and ask for it." Avi turned towards the door. "Let me know if I need to get him a pass for the fight."
"Sure." Scott watched him walk away, the heavy metal door slamming shut behind him. The rest of the group had already gone home, leaving half of the gym dark. Scott sighed and plopped down on the edge of the ring and hung his head.
He didn't need another doctor. He needed a whole brain switch.