followed through on his backhand, he caught me with his stick. I tried to close my eyes, but wasn’t quick enough. I went into the boards headfirst at an awkward angle. Some Detroit fans at the Olympia that night swore that Kennedy had sticked me on purpose. Some said it was even a butt-end. As for Teeder, he was adamant that his stick just grazed me, if anything. He maintained that he was simply trying to avoid a check and I lost my balance. As I recollect it, I believe his stick hit me, but I don’t blame him for it. He was just following through on a backhand and trying not to get hit. Hockey’s a fast game and sometimes things happen.
I can’t say I remember too much about what happened after I went into the boards. My teammates told me about it later, though. I’ve also seen the pictures, which aren’t pretty. The trainers rushed out to find me unconscious and bleeding. They wrapped some bandages around my head and loaded me onto a stretcher. By all accounts, Coach Ivan and my teammates weren’t having any of Teeder’s apologies. They took some runs at him to even things up, and apparently the rest of the series was pretty rough. My injuries included a broken nose, a fractured cheekbone, and a badly scraped eyeball. Most worrisome, though, was a serious concussion. Complications that arose from the swelling in my brain meant that staying alive was a bit touch and go for a while.
I was conscious enough to remember the ambulance ride from the Olympia to Harper Hospital. It was horrible. Every time we turned a corner I felt like throwing up. They kept telling me I was okay, but I had a persistent sensation of falling that made me nauseous. When we reached the hospital, they rushed me inside forX-rays. The prognosis wasn’t good. Bleeding in my brain was causing pressure to build up in my skull. If it wasn’t relieved, there was a chance I would end up dead. They called in a good neurosurgeon, Dr. Frederick Schreiber, and he opted to drain the fluid building up in my brain by drilling a hole in my head. I was prepped and on the operating table by about 1 A.M. , ready for Dr. Schreiber to perform trephine surgery. A trephine is a medieval-looking surgical instrument that resembles a corkscrew. Believe me, if you can avoid having a hole drilled in your skull by a trephine, I’d recommend it. I remember my head being strapped down to the operating table before they started. The only sensations I experienced during the procedure were the pressure and the noise. It’s not a sound you want to hear. My most vivid memory from the ninety-minute operation is hoping they’d know when to stop. After it was done, they didn’t want me to fall asleep (in case I didn’t wake up, I suppose), so they kept pricking my foot with a needle to keep me awake.
From what I understand, radio stations across Canada kept people updated on my condition throughout the night. By the next morning, I was still in rough shape, but it looked like I was out of the woods. When they finally allowed me to sleep, I was out for an entire day. By the time I came around, Mr. Adams had arranged for my mother and my sister Gladys to come down from Saskatchewan. It was a surprise to see them in Detroit, but I was happy they were there. The trip was my mother’s first airplane ride, and between that and her worrying about my injury, she was looking a bit the worse for wear. She was so pale that at one point I told her, “Oh hell, Mum. You take the bed.” She laughed, and I think that seeing I was well enough to joke helped to ease her mind. In the days after my surgery, all sorts of cards and packages arrived from all over Canada and the U.S. I was touched that so many people cared about mywell-being. I still am, in fact. With Gladys’s help, I tried to respond to every person who took the time to send me something.
As close as I came to shuffling off into the sunset at the tender age of twenty-one, I bounced back relatively quickly from the surgery.
I can’t say I remember too much about what happened after I went into the boards. My teammates told me about it later, though. I’ve also seen the pictures, which aren’t pretty. The trainers rushed out to find me unconscious and bleeding. They wrapped some bandages around my head and loaded me onto a stretcher. By all accounts, Coach Ivan and my teammates weren’t having any of Teeder’s apologies. They took some runs at him to even things up, and apparently the rest of the series was pretty rough. My injuries included a broken nose, a fractured cheekbone, and a badly scraped eyeball. Most worrisome, though, was a serious concussion. Complications that arose from the swelling in my brain meant that staying alive was a bit touch and go for a while.
I was conscious enough to remember the ambulance ride from the Olympia to Harper Hospital. It was horrible. Every time we turned a corner I felt like throwing up. They kept telling me I was okay, but I had a persistent sensation of falling that made me nauseous. When we reached the hospital, they rushed me inside forX-rays. The prognosis wasn’t good. Bleeding in my brain was causing pressure to build up in my skull. If it wasn’t relieved, there was a chance I would end up dead. They called in a good neurosurgeon, Dr. Frederick Schreiber, and he opted to drain the fluid building up in my brain by drilling a hole in my head. I was prepped and on the operating table by about 1 A.M. , ready for Dr. Schreiber to perform trephine surgery. A trephine is a medieval-looking surgical instrument that resembles a corkscrew. Believe me, if you can avoid having a hole drilled in your skull by a trephine, I’d recommend it. I remember my head being strapped down to the operating table before they started. The only sensations I experienced during the procedure were the pressure and the noise. It’s not a sound you want to hear. My most vivid memory from the ninety-minute operation is hoping they’d know when to stop. After it was done, they didn’t want me to fall asleep (in case I didn’t wake up, I suppose), so they kept pricking my foot with a needle to keep me awake.
From what I understand, radio stations across Canada kept people updated on my condition throughout the night. By the next morning, I was still in rough shape, but it looked like I was out of the woods. When they finally allowed me to sleep, I was out for an entire day. By the time I came around, Mr. Adams had arranged for my mother and my sister Gladys to come down from Saskatchewan. It was a surprise to see them in Detroit, but I was happy they were there. The trip was my mother’s first airplane ride, and between that and her worrying about my injury, she was looking a bit the worse for wear. She was so pale that at one point I told her, “Oh hell, Mum. You take the bed.” She laughed, and I think that seeing I was well enough to joke helped to ease her mind. In the days after my surgery, all sorts of cards and packages arrived from all over Canada and the U.S. I was touched that so many people cared about mywell-being. I still am, in fact. With Gladys’s help, I tried to respond to every person who took the time to send me something.
As close as I came to shuffling off into the sunset at the tender age of twenty-one, I bounced back relatively quickly from the surgery.
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