“Your test results came back. You tested positive for mono,” the doctor drawled, flipping through the papers on his clipboard. I must have been his twentieth patient at sick call that day. At boarding school, illness comes in waves. I got the diagnosis five days before my hockey team was leaving for the biggest tournament of the year.

My spleen swollen and my hopes crushed, I packed my bags and headed home. I’m a competitive hockey player, very competitive. So when I ached all day, all over, I just kept pushing.

I didn’t miss a hockey practice until pus-y, white spots blanketed my tonsils. I figured I’d go to sick call, take a day off, and come back well-rested. I was stunned when he told me I had mono, a disease that can swell spleens, ache muscles, inflame throats, and raise temperatures. Mononucleosis lasts around two months. I didn’t have two months—I had five days.

And it got worse. He ordered No physical activity for a month.

At home, my sore throat lasted eight sleepless days and nights, despite the codeine. I kept thinking about my teammates and how they were doing at the tournament.

Despite the doctor’s orders, I headed to the gym ten days after diagnosis. With sloth-like speed, I ran sprints. My muscles felt like Jell-o as I stretched and lifted weights. But when I felt like giving up, I thought of our upcoming games. I was determined to come back skating at the same level as I when I’d left.

I handled disappointment and pain and hard work and I returned to the team and finished my season as team MVP. Mono taught me how strong a person I am. A friend once told me that life is like a bouncy ball; no matter how hard life throws you down, you are always capable of bouncing back even higher.