I originally titled this “last year, hockey saved my life,” but that might be a little overdramatic–especially for a first post. Plus, I was really reaching for a pop culture reference, and “Last Night a DJ Saved My Life” kept popping into my head for some reason.

Anyhow.

Despite it’s slightly overdramatic-ness, in some ways it is true that hockey saved me.  It’s a bit of a long story, but I hope you’ll bear with me, because I swear it ties into why I started this blog in the first place.

Sports were never my thing growing up.  I was a dancer, a singer, and an actress, and pretty much spent all of my time in the dance studio or at rehearsal for a musical.  Other than that, I spent my time studying or reading. My dad was a musician too, so unless it involved singing or making music, our family didn’t really pay much attention.

I never even watched a single game of any sport until I met my husband.  He’s from Minnesota, and I’m pretty sure they come out of the womb wearing skates there, so I’m sure you can guess that hockey is HIS favorite. Football, too, sure–Vikings, of course–but hockey is what he really lives and breathes for.

We’ve been together for 11 years this year, and even for the first 7 or so years we were together, I didn’t pay hockey much attention. Even when the Kings were winning their first Stanley Cup, I was really only half paying attention, to be honest.  I really had no idea what exactly was happening, and I didn’t really take the time to ask, either.

It wasn’t until my husband took me to my first Kings game in 2013 that I got to experience the magic that is hockey.  There’s no way a person can describe hockey to someone in a way that does it justice–unless you see it live.

My first hockey game was at Staples Center, in the 300s section, so high up that my back actually touched the ceiling.  But it didn’t matter.  Even from that high up I could feel the speed of the players’ skating, the force with which they hit the puck, and the passion that they played with.

I was instantly mesmerized. I remember begging Elijah to take me to another game for my birthday, and soon another, and another–and just like that a huge Kings fan was born.

We didn’t make it to the final round of playoffs that year, but it didn’t matter. I watched every game and asked millions of questions:

What are those blue lines?

What’s off sides?

Icing? Huh?

You mean fighting is part of the GAME? (That’s really when they got me, right there, yep…)

I even learned about salaries and cap space and trades and all kinds of things I never even knew I cared about.

But it wasn’t until last summer until I became a rabid Kings fan. This team got me through one of the hardest times of my life.

I’ve struggled with anemia my entire adult life.  I never really thought much about it, to be honest. I mean, does anyone ever think of anemia as something truly serious? I didn’t.  But I should have.

Anemia causes iron levels to be low, yes, but most people forget the other parts that come with it–extreme dizziness, lack of oxygen to the brain and the heart, and extreme fatigue and weakness.  There’s no way I can explain it if you’ve never experienced it.  The worse it is, the higher the chance for permanent brain and heart damage–you can even die–but I never realized that before it got extremely bad (ex: a normal ferratin level is above 50, mine was a 5 in April of 2014).

My anemia has gotten to the point where I have to be checked into the hospital once a week for months at a time to receive IV iron infusions. My body can’t absorb iron pills, so for the foreseeable future, iron infusions are my normal.

It doesn’t sound like much, but for someone who has terrible veins, it means being stuck over and over with IVs while looking for veins (even the doctors have trouble finding them), and for someone with a very low pain tolerance, it’s probably the worst thing that could probably ever happen. Not to mention that some people experience horrible flu-like side effects thanks to the infusion itself–and I just happen to be part of that special few.

Sure, it was (and IS) horrible, and YES, some days I just wanted (and want to) lay in bed and do nothing. But it is true that the LA Kings got me through it–and they don’t even know it.

Every time someone came at me with a needle last summer, someone was by my side asking me questions about the Kings’ roster.  It started with my mom, but the nurses picked it up, too.  Every IV session was my own version of the roster challenge.

“Who’s number 11? 13? 23? 27? How tall are they? Where are they from? When’s their birthday?”

It was the only way to keep me from having an insane freakout anytime anyone came at me with a needle.  (And yes, I know the team’s roster forward, backward, sideways, and upside down now!)

More than just helping me in those needle-poke moments, hockey and the Kings have shown me what it means to fight, to persevere, and to never, ever give up.

Watching the Kings last season, there were times when it seemed like they were never going to make it to the finals. But they fought–game after game after game, and game 7 after game 7 and they got their prize. If there’s any better testament to the power of never giving up–it’s the LA Kings. And in their struggle, they inspired me. And they inspire me every day.

Most people who know me think I have a crazy obsession with the Kings. I’ve been to at least 15 games this season, Frozen Fury, Meet the Kings, Tip a King, and even practice at the Toyota Sports Center. I’ve managed to meet my favorite players several times (not a stalker, though, I swear!), own enough Kings gear to wear something different every day for at least three weeks, and usually am sporting black and silver (or purple–ahem, forum blue) nails.

But it’s not just an obsession. I like to call it loyalty.  Loyalty to a team that might never know what they’ve done for me (especially since I can’t seem to speak when I’m around them). But, it’s a fierce loyalty that means I’ll stick by them through thick and thin–because that’s what Kings do.

That’s what KINGS do.