“Dr. Schaeffer, can you please just tell me what’s wrong.”
“You’re diagnosis is pretty complicated. There are several things going on with you. But what’s causing everything is Lupus.”
“Lupus, what’s that?” Stu asked, leaning forward in his seat. I fell back into my seat deflated. I knew what Lupus was. It had been one of Reyna’s mystery diseases that she’d studied a few weeks ago.
“It’s a chronic inflammatory disease that occurs when the body’s immune system attacks its own tissue and organs. It usually manifests in the joint pain and soreness you described. It can also result in skin lesions, which you said you saw on your chest on Monday. Besides the joints and skin, it can also affect blood cells, heart, lungs, brain and central nervous system.”
“Oh my God,” Stu said, biting his fist. “Is it deadly?”
“It can be,” the doctor said, handing Stu a brochure. He’d tried to hand it to me first, but I was in a state of shock. I couldn’t move. “Most people with this illness can lead active lives. Most fatalities come when it attacks one of the major organs. In your case, Scott, I fear it may already be affecting your brain and your lungs.”
“What?” Stu and I said simultaneously. I leaned forward eager to hear how my brain and lungs had anything to do with shoulder pain.
“Well, that episode you described to me on the football field. When you collapsed during the playoff game and you could see and hear everything, but couldn’t react to it. I think that may have been a seizure.”
I flopped back in the chair.
“And the times when you felt paralyzed and couldn’t move one part of your body or another, those could have been types of seizures as well.”
I closed my eyes and massaged my forehead. I was getting a headache. Actually, now that I thought about it, I’d had several headaches lately but I hadn’t thought anything of it. I mean, a half hour alone with Sam could give me a headache.
I sighed and tried to process what he was saying.
“Well, what about the lungs? I haven’t had any trouble breathing. I mean, when the pain gets really bad it hurts to breathe but that’s it.”
Dr. Schaeffer flipped through the files on his desk as he said, “When you talked about that stabbing pain in your shoulder, I decided to give you an X-ray. This is what it revealed.” He stood up and placed it on one of those light board things that I didn’t know the name of. “Do you see this?” he said, pointing to some nondescript black mark. “You have a pneumothorax.”
“What’s that?” Stu asked.
The doctor looked at Stu then at me, probably wondering why I hadn’t asked the question.
“That’s basically a hole in his lung.”
Stu gasped.
“Now don’t be alarmed. It’s not that uncommon. Many people get them. It could have come from a hit he sustained on the football field or just developed spontaneously. That actually happens with young, tall, slender males sometimes. It’s a very small hole and in a lot of people it would heal itself. What’s been happening with Scott is that air is escaping into his chest cavity causing excruciating pain that radiates to his left shoulder. But the pain can subside or even disappear for certain amounts of time.” Dr. Schaeffer clicked off the light on the board and sat back down at his desk. “The problem in Scott’s case is that the Lupus has weakened his immune system so the hole will most likely not heal itself.”
“So what do we do? How do we fix it?”
“He’s gonna need surgery. “
“Surgery? On his lungs?” Stu nearly fell out of the chair.
Dr. Schaeffer nodded. “If we don’t fix the hole, it could get bigger, his lung could completely collapse, and he could go into cardiac arrest. Scott could die.”
“Oh my God.” Stu leaned over and put his head in his hands. He was having trouble breathing. I thought any second they were going to have to give him a sedative or something.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Scott,” Dr. Schaeffer said directly to me trying to get some sort of reaction from me. “This is a very serious procedure and could take four to six weeks of recovery.”
“Basketball season starts this month,” I said calmly.
Dr. Schaeffer looked down at his clasped hands while taking in a deep breath. I must have been frustrating him. “Scott, even after we get your lungs taken care of, you still have Lupus. There is no cure. We can only try to minimize your symptoms. Given that the disease is already affecting your major organs in the form of seizures, dizziness and even a pneumothorax, it’s extremely possible that you may never play sports again.”
I thought I was going to puke. I literally tasted bile in my throat. I had to play sports. I had to.
Dr. Schaeffer shuffled through some papers. “I have some phone numbers for you. A surgeon who can do your surgery as soon as possible, a cardiologist to make sure your heart hasn’t been adversely affected, and a rheumatologist for the joint pain. The urine sample you gave yesterday seems to show that your kidneys are okay. For now, that is. I still want you to see a nephrologist. This disease is very unpredictable. I mean the simple fact that it struck you, a white teenage boy, was very unpredictable. I almost didn’t run a test for it because I thought it wasn’t possible.”
“Who does it normally strike?” Stu asked.
“Black women,” I volunteered, remembering when Reyna had studied it as her disease of the day. “Look, are we done here?” I said, standing.
Both Stu and Dr. Schaeffer stared at me oddly. “Um, no, we’re not done. We have a lot to talk about. This is a serious diagnosis.” He misunderstood my body language. I knew it was a serious diagnosis. I wasn’t taking Lupus lightly in the least. I just didn’t want to deal with it. The walls of the office felt like they were closing in on me. I had to get out of there. “For one thing, because of the risk of injury, I’m going to have to insist that you not play in the game tomorrow night.”
My legs gave out. I had to sit back down for fear of face planting on the floor. How could he tell me that I couldn’t play football one day before the championship? The championship that I apparently had to deliver single handedly.
“I’m sorry, Scott, but it’s just too dangerous.”
“What if I guarantee that I won’t get hit?”
Dr. Schaeffer rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers. “How exactly can you guarantee you won’t get hit during a football game? I’m sorry. It’s out of the question.”
The rest of the appointment was a blur. I sat in the chair physically there but in my mind I was traveling through time and looking at my future. The picture I had grown accustomed to of winning the Heisman, getting drafted in the NFL and MLB and playing both sports like Deion Sanders faded as a new future of painkillers, doctor visits, and possible death at a young age came into view.
Chapter 22
Two days after the banner, the school wasn’t any closer to finding out who was responsible. In fact, Reyna felt as though most of the students had completely forgotten about it. She hated to admit it, but it was starting to weigh less heavily on her mind as well. What she thought about more was Scott.
She needed to make sure he was okay. He had avoided her like the plague ever since he saw her talking to Derek. She had taken a leap and called him and texted him several times yet he didn’t return any of her attempts at communication.
Finally, she decided to talk to Stu.
“How is he?” Reyna asked when she found him standing alone by the fountain in the east lawn.
Stu tucked his stringy black hair behind his ears, and then crossed his arms over his black Ramones T-shirt. He averted his worry-filled eyes from Reyna as he spoke.
“I don’t know what to do, Rey. He’s sick. He’s really sick. The doctor told him not to play tonight. That … that he could have a brain seizure or rupture his lungs or go into cardiac arrest, but he’s being so stubborn. He won’t listen. He keeps saying that he has to play. That everyone is counting on him.”
&
nbsp; Reyna reached out and hugged him as he explained all the details from the doctor visit the day before. She could tell he was having a hard time dealing with Scott’s diagnosis. Stu was like her little brother and it pained her to see him upset.
“What does Sam say?” Reyna knew that at this point the only one that could possibly get him not to play was his overbearing mother. She had to let him off. She had to let him know that she still loved him even without sports. Until then, Scottie would feel obligated to perform on the field.
“Sam doesn’t know,” Stu said, rubbing his eyes as if he lacked sleep.
“What do you mean she doesn’t know? She’s his mother. She should know.” Reyna blew her cheeks out as she considered the situation.
“Reyna, don’t do anything crazy,” Stu said. He must have seen the wheels in Reyna’s brain churning.
Letting out the air in her cheeks, she said, “It’s not crazy to tell a mother that her son is sick.”
Reyna fished her keys out of her pocket and headed to the parking lot. Samantha Kincaid was about to get a piece of her mind whether she liked it or not. Reyna knew the reason Stu and Scott hadn’t told her was because they feared her reaction. They thought she would end up criticizing Scott and belittling him for a disease he could not control. Sam was a bad mother and whether it was her place or not, Reyna was about to let her know.
Leaving the east lawn, Reyna took a short cut through the Science building corridor when she saw something extremely odd. Amber Sullivan and Derek Strong together. They weren’t doing anything compromising like kissing or hugging, just talking. But that in and of itself was just plain … weird. They didn’t run in the same circles and had nothing in common. Reyna slipped behind a locker and watched their body language since she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Amber was angrily waving a finger at him. She was practically yelling. What is more, Derek was just sitting back and taking it. Definitely not normal behavior for cocky Derek Strong. Reyna couldn’t imagine any situation in which he would let a woman tell him off.
Reyna glanced at her watch. At a quarter past two, she would have to rush to make it Scott’s house and back before Doc missed her. She always helped him pack the medical kits before each game. She made an executive decision to worry about the interaction between Derek and Amber later. Right now she had to deal with Sam.
Sam’s car was in the driveway, but after ten minutes of banging on the front door, Reyna decided that either she was out jogging or perhaps home and refused to open the door for her. Either way, time was wasting and she had to get ready for the game.
As she drove like a mad woman across the bridge, she had an epiphany. Doc! All she had to do was tell Doc about Scott’s illness. He’d tell coach and they’d take him out of the game.
She found him in their shared office making sure the medical kits were fully stocked.
“Doc, we have to talk,” she said almost out of breath. She had run all the way from the parking lot.
“Really, about what?” Doc said with a pleasant smile on his face.
“Scott Kincaid is extremely sick. The doctor ordered him not to play, but he won’t listen. He has a pneumothorax. If he gets hit on the field, his lung could collapse.” Reyna waited for a reaction from Doc, but didn’t get the one she expected.
He giggled and shook his head. “Really, Reyna, you’ve got to stop reading all those medical books. Pneumothorax? That’s pretty creative.”
“You think I’m making this up? Why would I do that?”
“Scott was just in here. He says you too got a little … close last weekend and that you were pretty upset when he didn’t want to take it further.”
“What?”
“He said you would probably come in here ranting about some disease or another to get him taken out of the game as payback.”
“I’m gonna kill him,” she said without thinking. How dare he make up a story like that? It made her look like some vindictive bimbo when all she wanted to do was help him.
“I thought he was already dying?” Doc laughed again. “Look Reyna, I know you probably really like Scott. All the girls do. But just because he doesn’t return the sentiment doesn’t mean you can go around making up dangerous lies. There’s going to be a Notre Dame scout out there tonight. Do you really want to ruin his chances over a one-night stand? I thought you two were friends.”
Reyna put her face in her hands, which Doc apparently mistook as a sign of remorse as he patted her on the back and said, “I didn’t think so.”
Stunned into silence, Reyna couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would untangle the very intricate lie Scott had spun.
Finally, she gave up. She grabbed her kit and went back to her car so she could follow the bus to the Citadel field where the championship would be played. Maybe she could talk to Scott there. She could convince him herself. It was her last chance.
Reyna watched as the team minus the four black players filed out of the locker room. She wondered momentarily if she was supposed to boycott as well. Probably. But she needed to be there for Scottie. She had to make sure he was all right. She wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of that.
Scott wasn’t among the players that had exited the locker room. He was probably still inside trying to psyche himself up. He’d been doing that a lot lately. It probably took more and more strength and energy to force himself out on the field as the Lupus continued to degenerate his joints.
She found him sitting on a bench staring into his helmet.
“Hey Scottie,” she said, upon entering.
Scott jumped up and starting putting on his helmet. He wouldn’t look at her.
“I think we should talk.”
He responded by securing his helmet and closing the locker that housed his street clothes.
“Scottie, please don’t go out there. You don’t owe anyone anything. You don’t have to win for them. You need to take care of yourself.”
Shaking his head Scottie said, “Reyna, I’ve already made up my mind. There’s a scout out there. We need this victory. We’re missing four of our best players. There’s no other way. I have to play.”
“Scottie, the Lupus is affecting your balance, your flexibility, and your reaction time. You’re gonna get creamed out there. Your lung could collapse. Do you understand how serious that is? You can’t risk it. I can’t … What am I … If something happens … ” Reyna fought back tears. She had to keep it together and be strong. She had to reason with him.
“I’m surprised you’re even here. Why aren’t you out with Derek? You don’t care about me.”
Reyna felt like she’d been slapped in the face. She tried not to take the insult personally. She knew he was in pain and lashing out at anything and everything was his way of coping. But she felt hurt, nonetheless.
“Scottie, you know I feel about you,” she said softly.
He didn’t respond. He didn’t sweep her into a kiss like she’d hoped. Instead, he stared at his hand and flexed his fingers. His joints probably ached.
“Scottie, you mean more to me than anything in the world. I couldn’t care less if you win the championship or not. Why isn’t that enough?”
“Why can’t you understand that it’s not about you?” he snapped.
Reyna stepped back, hurt once again by his response. She didn’t want him to know how his words affected her so she struck back.
“You know what? Fine. Go ahead and kill yourself over a goddamn game. See if I care. I can’t watch this.” She threw her hands up in defeat and stormed out of the locker room.
Several emotions coursed through her body as she barreled her way through spectators toward the parking lot. She felt angry, hurt, helpless, but most of all scared.
Reyna paced in front of her car in the parking lot. With keys in hand she debated whether to stay or go. She didn’t want to sit by and watch him get hurt, but she did want to be at his side in case something happened. She was torn. The national anthem started playing. Any se
cond, Scottie would be jogging out onto the field and starting his bull headed journey to victory or to death.
While her mind rallied through the possibilities, she spied Amber and Derek talking again next to his car. Amber and Derek together twice in one day? Something was definitely up.
As soon as Reyna approached, Amber stormed off. Derek leaned against his car with his arms crossed staring at the ground. She decided she needed to find out what was going on.
“Derek. What the hell? What’s up between you and Amber?” The anger she felt toward the Scott situation transferred in an instant to unsuspecting Derek.
“Trust me, Rey. You don’t want to know.”
“Why don’t you just tell me and then I’ll be the judge of that.” Reyna folded her arms and scolded him with her eyes. She knew she really didn’t have a right to demand anything of him, but in that moment she didn’t care.
“I can’t hang on to this guilt any longer anyway.” He brushed his hands over his shaven head and said, “Amber was the one who made the banner.”
I knew it, Reyna thought. She had a sudden urge to stuff some pom-poms down Amber’s throat. But before she could take care of Amber, a question surged in her mind that begged to be answered.
“Derek, why would you feel guilt over something Amber did?”
He sighed then said, “Because I helped her.”
“What? Why would you do that?” Reyna’s mind struggled to grasp what she was hearing. He had caused the controversy then acted just as outraged as everyone else. How could he do something like that?
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” he said, quoting the ancient proverb.
“What are you talking about?”
“Amber wanted Scott. I wanted you.”
Heat rushed into Reyna’s face. Not from flattery, but from anger. His own selfish desires had sent the entire school into chaos, caused countless tears, and made Scott feel obligated to play in a game that could kill him. Without thinking, Reyna reared back, and then punched him in the face.
Nothing Else Matters Page 11