The Problem with Sports - M.E. Clayton

Prologue

“I…I understand if you need a moment,” he said, his voice a practiced tone of compassion and patience.

Okay.

It could be worse, right?

Sure, they couldn’t tell us what caused it, but did that really matter? What mattered was that it happened, and we needed to figure out how to move forward with it.

I looked over at Steven, and his head was bowed, his hands clasped before him. He looked like he’d gotten the worst news ever. But he hadn’t.

We hadn’t.

I looked back at Dr. Sorenson. “So, we just…have to monitor his activities, right?”

Dr. Sorenson smiled kindly. “Childhood interstitial lung disease varies from child to child,” he said. “Though, it is a rare lung condition, chILD is not necessarily a debilitating diagnosis, Mrs. Hansen. The bronchoalveolar lavage showed no signs of lung injury, and that’s a very good thing for Grant.”

Steven remained silent, but I couldn’t worry about him right now. I needed to understand what chILD meant for Grant. The poor thing was only five-years-old. “So…will he need inhalers and stuff?”

“It’s a little more serious than that, but, yes, he’ll need emergency inhalers. However, he may also need steroids, antimicrobial drug treatments, or bronchodilators should he have any breathing episodes,” he explained. “It’s quite possible he could be hospitalized and placed on a ventilator, often, during his childhood, Mrs. Hansen.”

I nodded nervously. “O…okay,” I mumbled. “Then-”

“So, you’re telling me that Grant’s never going to be able to run around, jump on a trampoline, play sports, nothing?” Steven asked, finally speaking.

“Mr. Hansen, I understand-”

“Understand what, Doctor?” Steven rudely cut in. “Do you have a son you can’t play with? Do you have a son who’ll never play sports or live a normal life?”

Dr. Sorenson placed his arms on his desk and leaned forward. “There are many children who do not play sports, Mr. Hansen,” he pointed out. “Lots of children are academically incl-”

“I didn’t have a son just to watch him do math problems, Dr. Sorenson,” Steven spat.

“Steven!” I cried, shocked at his level of negativity. Sure, Grant may struggle and there may be limitations placed on his life, but he wasn’t dying. He didn’t have cancer or only three weeks to live. He had a serious respiratory disease, but even then, it wasn’t as bad as his condition could be. Didn’t he just hear Dr. Sorenson say they’d found no lung damage yet.

Steven looked over at me “What, Andrea?” he barked. “He’s basically telling us that Grant’s going to be worthless. And-”

My eyes bugged and my blood fired hot. “Are you out of your mind?” I choked out. “He said no such thing, Ste-”

“He’s not going to be able to do anything, Andre,” he said, cutting me off. “What’s a little boy if he can’t run around with his friends or play any sports?”

This asshole.

“He’s a little boy who is alive. And while has a serious lung condition, it could be worse,” I fired back. “Who gives a shit if Grant won’t be able to play soccer as long as he’s alive!”

“Mr. Hansen, Mrs. Hansen, I think it’s best to hold off on this kind of discussion until you’ve both had time to work through your emotions, and maybe, do a little more research on chILDs,” Dr. Sorenson suggested. “Emotions can sometimes cause a situation to become more disruptive than it needs to be.”

Steven stood up, and you could feel the fury coming off him in waves. “Well, since you just handed my wife the daughter she’s always wanted, I’d say I’m probably the only one who needs to work through his emotions,” he snarled, his words doing more damage than he could possibly understand.

“Do you really need to be such a bastard about this, Steven?” I snapped. He was sneering down at me as if this were all my fault somehow. “This isn’t about you, Steven. This is about our son.”

“A son who might as well be our daughter.” I stood up, but before I could deck the sonofabitch, he added, “You better be ready to give me more children, Andrea, because I refuse to let this be it.” He stormed out of Dr. Sorensen’s office before I could respond.

But what would I say?

What do you say in response to something so devastatingly heartbreaking?

Chapter 1

Andrea – (Three Years Later)~

There was more to life than sports.

There was art, academia, dance, Pokémon cards, all kinds of other things. But looking into the living room, Grant was sitting down, dressed from head to toe in Condors baseball garb, staring at the television. And if