Chapter 4: Surgery

Wilt PoV

Wilt was surprised by how quickly word of the mugging spread. By the time he arrived at the hospital, it seemed like everyone had already heard. His mother, father, and siblings all rushed to his side, their faces filled with worry.

"Oh, my poor baby," his mom cried, embracing him tightly.

"Mom," Wilt choked, her tight grip constricting his breathing. He was glad Natasha had given them some alone time. Else he would be the one made fun of.

"It's okay, Wilt," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "You're safe now. You're okay."

Wilt took a deep breath, his nerves slowly calming as his family surrounded him. The familiar smell of his mother's perfume, the firmness of his father's hand on his shoulder, the comfort of his siblings' presence, it all served as a reminder that he was safe.

He looked up at his parents, his eyes swelling with tears. "I'm okay," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm okay."

Tears dripped down his face. The truth was, he feared his leg might not recover. But the presence of his family and friends made him a bit more confident than he otherwise would've been.

The door opened and in walked a tall man with swept back silver hair.

"Will my son be able to continue playing basketball?" Wilt's dad asked, glancing at the doctor.

"We will have to do a surgery first but... the chances he will aren't very good," the doctor replied, sighing solemnly.

"Surgery?" Wilt muttered. His heart sank as the doctor's words echoed in his head. "But my dream..." 

His mom squeezed his hand, giving him a reassuring smile. "It's going to be okay, Wilt. No matter what happens, we'll be here for you."

Wilt's vision blurred, the tears spilling from his eyes. He had never felt so helpless, so scared. His dream, his future, it all hinged on the success of the surgery. And even then there was a low chance of him returning to the court.

His mother gently patted his shoulder. "Everything will be fine, Son. You'll see. We'll get through this together."

Wilt's father nodded. "Your mother is right, son. This is just a setback in your career, nothing more."

He smiled faintly. Wilt sure hoped his father was right.

The nurse ushered them out. "You may go in later to say your goodbyes. It is now time to perform the operation," she informed them. "We will transfer him to the operation room."

Wilt looked down at his legs and saw his left one was swollen. It was all irregular and he didn't know if it would even be possible to return to basketball.

"Wilt," the nurse called, drawing his attention. "It is time. Are you ready?"

He looked up, meeting her gaze. "As ready as I'll ever be."

With a nod, she began to wheel him away. Wilt's family stood beside the door along with Natash. He watched as his family and friends grew smaller, their worried expressions etched in his memory.

"It's going to be okay, it's going to be okay," he whispered, the words a mantra he clung to like a lifeline.

The operating room was surprisingly very different compared to the previous room. The walls were a sterile white, the air heavy with the smell of antiseptic. A single bed occupied the center of the room, the sheets crisp and clean.

The nurse guided him onto the bed, her movements practiced. She adjusted the pillow behind his head, ensuring he was comfortable.

"This may hurt a little, but it'll be over soon," she said, her voice calm and reassuring.

Wilt nodded, taking a deep breath as she began to insert the IV needle. He winced as the needle pierced his skin, but he remained still, determined not to show his discomfort.

Why hadn't they done so earlier, he wasn't sure.

As the nurse finished setting up the IV, the anesthesiologist approached.

"Wilt, this is the anesthesiologist. He's going to put you under, so you won't feel a thing during the operation. You ready?" the nurse asked.

"Ready," he muttered, his eyes following the movement of the anesthesiologist's gloved hands.

The anesthesiologist attached the mask to Wilt's face. "Alright, Wilt. Take a deep breath," he instructed, his voice steady.

Wilt inhaled, the smell of the anesthetic filling his nostrils. His eyes grew heavy, the darkness enveloping him.

The last thing he heard before slipping into unconsciousness was the sound of the operating room door opening, his family and friends filing in.

"We love you, Wilt. Everything's going to be okay," his mother's voice rang out.

"You're gonna be a star one day, Wilt. Just you wait," his father added.

"You'll make it back to the court. I know it," his sister chimed in.

Their voices grew fainter, until they were nothing but a distant echo in the recesses of his mind. He wondered if they were even real or if it was his fatigue.

As Wilt fell deeper into the void, his body numb and his mind at peace, he clung to the words his family spoke. Even if he wasn't sure if it was actually them or a figment of his imagination. They were a reminder that he wasn't alone, a promise that everything would be okay.

When he woke up, he found himself back in the first room. He was surrounded by his family.

"Did the surgery succeed?" Wilt muttered.

"It will take a while to heal, but you'll be back on your feet in no time," the doctor replied, smiling slightly. "Although some therapy might be needed."

His parents and sister hugged him.

"That's great news!" his mom said.

"You did well, bro," his sister commented.

The doctor sighed. "That said, only time can tell if you'll be able to play again."

Wilt stared at the cast around his left leg. He had a lot of recovery ahead of him. But he was determined. He was going to get back on the court, no matter what. Like his father said, this was merely a setback, nothing more.