A mild heart attack. After tests and more tests, that’s what they called it. With medications, a good diet, and regular walking, the doctor says Gram will be fine.

She stayed at the hospital a couple of days for monitoring, and then they sent her home.

Dad took the week off from work so Grandpa wouldn’t overdo it, taking care of her. The doctor said Gram would be tired the first week, but she should still get up, get dressed, and should not lie in bed all day.

I’m pretty sure when he said that he didn’t know that lying in bed all day is about the last thing my gram would ever want to do.

With everything going on, Dad doesn’t mention the big “college decision,” and I certainly don’t bring it up. I’m thankful for the reprieve. My plan is to get through the final game, and worry about the rest later. Cross that bridge when I come to it, so to speak.

By the second week, Gram seems back to her old self, though we only let her cook dinner for us, while we take care of our  own breakfasts and lunches. We’re also doing our own laundry, which bugs the crap out of her, because none of us does it the “right” way.

I honestly don’t care if I pull my wrinkly jeans out of the dryer after they’ve sat there for two days, but Gram cares. And she lets me know it.

I just smiled when she told me how I should have been doing it, and when she finished giving me my laundry lesson, I said, “I’m so glad you’re feeling better, Gram.”

She replied, “Well, honestly, I’ll be glad when I can do your laundry again, so it’s done right. You deserve better than wrinkled pants, Colby!”

I gave her a big hug as I laughed about it.

Now it’s Thursday, and we’re dressing for our last practice of the season. Tomorrow night, we’ll be up in Portland, in a big fancy locker room, getting ready for the game of our lives.

I jump when I hear Coach holler, “Gather round!”

“What’s this?” Derek asks. “The big motivating speech comes tomorrow night, doesn’t it?”

Coach smiles. “Yes. It does. But this afternoon I have some good news to share. I just got off the phone and wanted to tell you we’ll have some special guests at the game tomorrow night.”

We look at one another, question marks floating over our heads.

“There’s no way you’ll guess, so I’ll just tell you. Your teammate, Benny Lewis, is flying in tomorrow for the game.”

The room erupts in cheers. I’m sitting there in shock, wondering why Benny didn’t let me know about this.

“Lewis has made incredible progress,” Coach goes on. “His mom told me the overseeing physician says it’s nothing short of a miracle. Anyway, I’ve been checking in with his family on a regular basis, and it was my hope that I could help to make this happen for you boys. His team of medical staff agreed to let him fly home, just for the weekend. On Sunday, he’ll return to Atlanta, because his work there certainly isn’t finished.”

Coach looks around at us for a minute before he says, “I know this has been a challenging season for y’all. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you fell apart; if you couldn’t muster the strength and courage week after week like a winning team needs to. But you did it. And I am so damn proud of each and every one of you. And I know whatever happens tomorrow night, you’re gonna make Benny proud too.

“Now let’s get out there and have a good practice. I’ll see you on the field in five.”

Benny must have wanted to surprise me. He didn’t tell me because he wanted me to be surprised along with everyone else.