A Night to Remember

***Senior year is full of "lasts."  I went through it with Tali last year and am doing it all over again with Josie this year. (Who thought it was a good idea to have kids 14 months apart?)***

Josie decided to try out for cheerleading in 7th grade.  What was a whim because she didn't make the volleyball team, turned into what would come to define her high school career.  A shy, nervous, anxiety-ridden child, was replaced with a smiling, confident, happy young woman on the track or court.  It truly was remarkable.

After cheering for Patton Jr. High in Fort Leavenworth, KS, the family was moving to Carlisle, PA (my hometown) and Josie decided to try out for the high school squad.  The coaches in PA reviewed her tryout submission via YouTube and she was told she made the JV squad.  She went on to cheer for Varsity the next three years becoming a Captain of the squad this, her senior, year.  Cheer became a year-round sport as our basketball team had gone far into playoffs the last few seasons.  They regularly played well into March and open gym practices for next years tryouts would start in early April.  It was her life.

With the loss of some talented seniors, this years basketball team had little to no hope of making it to the State Semi-finals like they did in 2017.  Regardless, we made it to the playoffs and with the regular season over, every game could be the last.  Josie was well aware of the season coming to an end.  Not a fan of change, she dreaded what would become her most cherished "last."

She called Tuesday saying she was running home at lunch to grab some stuff for the game.  I was at work.  She texted later asking if she could take something for a headache, I said sure.  I knew she was stressed about this possibly being the final game and as Captain of a drama-filled squad, she took her responsibilities seriously. A headache was certainly in order.

The coach bus left the high school at 4:30 with both players and cheerleaders.  Charlie and I got on the road at 5:30 to travel to Wilson HS near Reading.  The trip was an hour and a half.  My 13 yr old had his headphones on the entire time which allowed me to listen to my country station with no complaints.  At some point, I got a message that the team bus had broken down and they were waiting for a new bus.  This was concerning only because I didn't want this to cause the boys to be unfocused.  When we pulled into the school parking lot, I was relieved to see our bus.  As we waited in line to get inside the gym, it was obvious that the host school was allowing extra time for warm-ups due to late arrival.

The closer we got to the door, the more obvious it was that this school had some money.  Upon entering the "facility" (I can't even call it a high school gym), it was hard not to notice the indoor track that looped the upper level of the court.  Charlie immediately started counting the basketball hoops that were raised to the ceiling and informed me that there could be seven courts inside the place.  He then rattled off they had a built-in snack bar, four scoreboards, and TWO sets of bathrooms right off the track.  Oh, and Gary Collin's (Cleveland Browns) high school jersey was hanging across the way along with some Gilmore guy whose first name, I was assured, was not Happy.

We found some friends to sit with, and I was able to find Josie among the cheerleaders warming up.  I lifted my hand signing "I Love You" in American Sign Language as we have started to do whenever she is farther than my voice will carry.  She pointed to her head and I knew she must still have a bad headache.  I got some ibuprofen from my friend Leigh and made my way down to see her.  Headaches are no stranger to my kids, unfortunately, and Josie suffers from migraines along with some of her siblings.  She was in a ton of pain, but, much like Senior Night when she took to the court with a fever, I knew she intended to cheer.  Leigh had followed me down.  When she saw Josie, she offered Excedrin instead of the Motrin she had just handed me.  I agreed the caffeine might help knock out her headache and Josie left to take it.  In the meantime, we were getting the bus story from the coaches.  The bus driver was a bit of a shakey driver and wasn't sure of the protocol when the transmission light came on.  They had to wait for quite a while on a hot bus full of teenagers who were nervous and hyped about the game.  Not sure if any of these facts contributed, but my kids are also prone to motion sickness and I began to realize the perfect storm was erupting in Josie's brain.  There was a small room off to the side of the end bleachers.  One of the cheer coaches told Josie to sit in there, where it was quiet until the game started.  I almost just went back up to my seat, but stuck my head in the room and told her I loved her.  As an afterthought, I actually pointed out to Barbara, one of the coaches, where I was sitting if they needed me.  "Total Helicopter Mom move," I thought to myself as I made my way back up the bleachers.

Charlie and I were watching the other team warm up and trying to decide how the game was going to go.  I love Josie and would sit through a 3-hour turtle race to watch her cheer, but I would be remiss if I didn't mention how much I love sports.  How much I Love high school sports.  How much I LOVE Carlisle High School Sports.  Oh, did I mention I was also a Carlisle High School cheerleader?  Trust me when I say I am watching the game as much as I am watching the cheerleaders.

Our boys came out for the intro and Charlie and I noticed that their very full student section faced the other way when we were announced.  Exactly like ours does.  Having home court advantage in this game was going to be a factor.  I was recording our boys coming out and briefly, looked and noticed that Josie was not in her typical spot.  A few girls quit just a day or two before the game (don't get me started) and I assumed they had moved things around.  They announced our last player and suddenly Barbara appeared, "Josie threw up."

Okay, if you know me and my kids, this will not surprise you.  I constantly hear that my kids are the pukiest kids people have ever met.  They are all quite adept at puking (i.e. hitting the target -be it trash can, toilet, out the bus window).  I was almost annoyed that I had to post the players introductions on Snapchat without having the time to add text to my story.  Alas, I am the mom.  I must respond.  I followed Barbara around the upper track to the end of the court and down the bleachers.  What I saw was not my 18-year-old daughter, it was my 3-year-old daughter.  She was standing like a statue, arms stiff out to the side, legs slightly apart, as if waiting for a pat down at the airport.  There was vomit everywhere.  Seriously.  You know when a toddler pukes and they don't really even understand what happened?  That was it.  My eyes took her in as she silently said: "Momma help me!" with tears streaming down her face.  The trash can was directly in front of her, but the contents of her stomach were to the left...on the floor, to the right...on several cheer bags and backpacks, straight down...her left sleeve and spotted all over her uniform.  Wow...just wow.  And after what felt like 10 minutes, but was probably 10 seconds, the world around me started to spin again.  I suddenly heard the man standing in front of me talking, "trainer for Wilson HS...headache...pupils...pen light...vomit."

I was trying to make sense of it all when the National Anthem began.  Seasoned military brat that I am, that Josie is, we immediately turned to face the flag with our hands on our hearts until the song ended.  I'm guessing now, the trainer probably thought it was weird.  Regardless, he was telling me that he was called over.  He wanted to see if she could track his finger, then turned his penlight on to check her pupil reaction and she immediately got sick.  He told me, "she should probably be taken out of here."  I explained that she gets migraines and that her pattern is; headache, vomit, sleep, rejoin the rest of the world.  He seemed a bit skeptical.

As I was trying to process all this, he is handing her wipes, like mini Lysol wipes, to help her clean up. One...at...a...time.  She is glaring at him and throwing them almost immediately into the trash can.  "Can someone just get some paper towels please?"  That was Josie's version of yelling- I could tell she was angry.  Finally, someone, (it could have been me) said: "Let's get her to the bathroom."  I hope it was me, it was a very sensible idea.  After consideration, the thought of having the bathrooms at the top of the seating was no longer a nifty idea. While I was deciding what section of the crowd would be best be suited to a barf parade, she pointed at a door that had a picture of stairs.  Thank you God!  I walked behind Josie and was amazed to see she had a trail of vomit down the length of her long ponytail.  The stairwell opened up to the track with the snack bar on the right and the bathroom to the left.  Leigh and Josie turned into the bathroom before I realized I had walked right past it trying to get a glimpse of the score.  We were winning.

The bathroom had one of those big sinks with four faucets all draining into the same basin.  This was helpful as we had some cleaning up to do.  At this point, the tears were starting to subside and she could tell me the story.

She was in the small room with her head resting against the cold cinderblock wall and two of the cheerleaders came in.  They asked what was wrong.  She told them her head hurt.  I'm not sure exactly how the telephone game started or who was playing but the translation became that she hit her head.  The trainer was summoned.  Someone told Josie "the trainer is coming with ice."  She asked if they meant ice water.  No, she was told, a bag of ice.  She didn't understand that.  When the trainer arrived, he asked where she hit her head.  She said she didn't.  We are thinking that he thought she was lying so she could cheer.  He said he needed to check her out and proceeded to have her stand up to see if she could track his finger.  When she had trouble, he took out a penlight to check her pupils.  As a mom of kids with migraines, I can tell you, shining a light into a migraine sufferers eyes is akin to....all kinds of things, but my metaphors are too graphic and gory to subject the reader to.  Let's just say, OF COURSE SHE BLEW CHUNKS!  She had a migraine and you shined a ridiculously bright light into her eyeballs!!!

Now, let me be clear, I am NOT blaming the trainer.  I believe he was acting on the information he had and was genuinely concerned about not allowing a child with a possible concussion go out to cheer.  He followed protocol and I have no problem with that.  I will say it was a frustrating miscommunication.  He had also mentioned that if she had the flu she needed to leave.  Looking back, I should have told him we already played the "let's infect a gym full of people with the flu game" on Senior night a few weeks prior.   It was no longer entertaining.

As she is telling the story I am holding her ponytail under the water flow trying to remove the solid pieces as I went.  There was a paper towel dispenser in the bathroom, but it was empty.  Someone went to get paper towels from the snack bar.  She returned to report that Wilson HS does not believe in paper towels as they become too messy for the janitors to pick up.  Okayyyyyyy.  Also, I have to add that a school who is rich enough to have a water polo team (yes, a water polo team) should be rich enough to have hand sensored faucets.  Can I tell you how many times I had to push the button for 30 more seconds of water?

Barbara went down to clean off the cheer bags and returned with a bow and a brush that needed to be cleaned.  Leigh cleaned the brush and proceeded to use it to finish getting everything out of Josie's hair and then braiding it.  We then let her change into her t-shirt and pulled off her uniform.  The left arm of her liner was the worst, but her outer shell had a decent amount of "substance" on it as well.  (How many words do you know for vomit?)

I washed her uniform in the sink with the hand soap and did a pretty decent job if I do say so myself.  I then began to try to dry the uniform with the hand dryer...because, well, Wilson HS does not believe in bathroom paper towels.  Did I mention that?  Apparently, what they do believe in, is rationing snack bar paper towels as we had to return to the concession stand about 12 times to get more.  In hindsight, we should have demanded a roll.

At this point, we have been sink-side (as opposed to court-side) the entire first half of the game.  We politely stepped away from the left side of the basin when women and little girls came in to use the bathroom.  I even took a break from the dryer to allow them to use it.  During that time, we could hear the announcements of points.  I was trying to keep track of the score in my head, but addition and math are not my strong suits.  Leigh's son scored and she decided she should stay in the bathroom while he was playing - it was working so far.  I went out at the end of the first quarter and we were ahead.  The second quarter was not a good one.  I heard way too many of their names and not enough of ours.  We were down by 5 at the half.  At one point they announce a 3 pointer for a kid from the other team and a woman in one of the stalls whooped!  She came out and said, "Sorry, that was my son.  It's his first three...well in this game."  I tried really hard to be happy for her, and I smiled.  Inside I sort of wished he would lose a contact or something.  Not get hurt, mind you, just maybe not focus well.

This could be Josie's last game and she was devastated.  Her makeup was almost as much to clean up as the puke.  I was holding back tears as well, trying not to feed into her emotions.  I acted confident and told her they would most certainly win so she could cheer Friday night at the next game.  I prayed silently and fervently that the season would not end tonight.  Not with her being sick.  Not like this.

I reminded her, and myself, that she is having an amazing senior year.  Cheer captain, Homecoming Queen, Leader of Tomorrow Award winner, etc.  Not everything will be perfect.  "I know that, but my last high school game ever..." and fresh tears appeared.  I reminded her, and myself, that she was selected as a Big 33 cheerleader for PA and would have a full week of cheering in the summer and what an honor that will be.  "I know that, but it's not Carlisle...it's not the same."  I reminded her, and myself, that things don't always work out the way you want or expect.  Maybe she was sick tonight so that she cheered her last game not knowing it was her last game so that she could enjoy it and not concentrate on the "last" part.  "I know that, but..."

Julie, the head coach, was in and out of the bathroom checking on us.  We decided that Josie could cheer the second half if she wanted to.  I stayed in the bathroom trying to dry the uniform as much as possible.  I went out towards the end of the half and she looked exhausted.  She thanked me and said she didn't want to mess up the other girls because they had reorganized everything to cheer without her and she didn't want to confuse things.  She would sit with the coaches for the end of the game.

With 4:25 left in the third quarter, I went back to my seat.  Our boys were falling apart, I could see it.  Wilson was hitting everything they threw up and we could sink nothing.  It was frustrating.  The atmosphere changed and we started playing desperate ball.  Not playing as a team, trying to force shots that weren't there, and inexcusably missing free throws.  (My biggest pet peeve of Carlisle bball- they lose games b/c of missed foul shots!  But I digress...)  I am rarely one to accept defeat easily, sometimes even after the final buzzer, but I absolutely refuse to accept defeat before it is over.  Tuesday night was different.  I could see it slipping away, I could see our boys losing faith in themselves and each other, and I could see it registering on Josie's face that this was the final game.  Watching her watch the last few minutes of the game was heartbreaking.  I allowed myself a few tears before I went to wipe hers.

So in the end, she did not cheer for the last game of her high school career.  Who could have ever predicted that?  I tried to tell her that in a few years this was going to make a great story.  Of course, she is not quite ready to think about it that way.  But I am.  Somehow, it does comfort me that she didn't know she was cheering in her last game as she was actually cheering in her last game.  She had a great night that night and we won the game.  That was the way to end it! 

And as far as Tuesday night is concerned; it was a night to remember.  A night to remember how much her coaching staff loves and cares about her.  A night to remember how Miss Leigh, who coached her in 9th grade, had no problem brushing vomit out of and then braiding her hair.  (Not everyone would be willing to do that)  A night to remember watching her friends play their last game without having to worry about what cheer to call when.  A night to remember that all things come to an end and even if you aren't happy about it, the sun continues to rise and set.  A night to remember that growing up isn't always easy, but when you're surrounded by friends and family, it can seem a bit less daunting.  And a night to remember that her Momma loves her enough to miss almost 3 (THREE) full quarters of a CHS basketball game.  That's alotta love right there!