Broken: A story of hope and forgiveness
Page 26
Chapter 21
The End of the Dream
Dr. Christianson turned his words and thoughts over in his mind as he walked the dozen or so feet to Robert’s room, considering whether he should be totally honest and forthright in his diagnosis—tell him that his cause was hopeless, that he should be thankful his mind and non-athletic faculties are in order instead of cry over the lost career that would have likely been nothing more than some college baseball capped off with a bachelor’s degree and decent paying nine-to-five job, anyway—or say that there was a small, infinitesimal chance for a full and complete recovery and all that entailed, including a shot at the majors. He knew what Blankenship would have said, but he wasn’t Blankenship. For him, hope was always better than a lack of it. He reached the room and pushed open the door, bracing for what was to follow.
“Hello there,” he enthusiastically said to all in the room, which included everyone in the family as well as Janie and her parents. Robert was finally able to recognize her after another day had passed. “How are we doing today?” he asked, looking at Robert.
“Fine.”
“Good,” he said. “I’m Dr. Christianson, the chief orthopedic surgeon here.”
Here it comes, Robert thought, knowing what was about to be said. His arm was so numb he couldn’t feel his fingers. He tried in vain to lift his arm just an inch or so, to no avail. He had even snuck a peak at the wound left behind by the doctors after they pieced together the broken bones and tendons. He knew that he would be lucky if he could pick up a garbage bag again, let alone throw baseballs to home plate. “So what’s the diagnosis? Will I be able to play the violin?”
“Only if you could play it before the accident,” Christianson replied, knowing where Robert got the line. He was a Three Stooges fan, too.
“I’m impressed,” Robert said. “You’ve got to be a good man if you’re a Stooges fan.”
They both laughed until Christianson’s facial expression turned serious. “It helps to laugh when bad news comes,” he said then paused to let his comment sink in. After Robert’s smile waned, he continued. “You understand how serious this is, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“I understand you’re a baseball player.”
“Yeah,” Robert replied, briefly daydreaming about his high school highlights, including starting and winning two state championships. “I was on scholarship at UTA.”
“I also understand you’re pretty smart.”
“1450 on the SAT, so I get by.”
“Good.”
“What are you saying?”
“I heard once that the average person’s body can earn a max of $500.00 a week, give or take a few dollars, but the mind’s potential is unlimited.”
“Tell that to Barry Bonds.”
“Long shot,” Christianson replied.
“I know.”
Christianson, who had been standing at the foot of the bed, moved to Robert’s right side, just next to him. “There’s a chance for full recovery, but it’s a long shot, a very long shot. You might be able to throw underhanded in a few months, but it’s highly unlikely that you’ll ever be able to play college-level baseball again.”
“What are the odds? I like uphill battles,” Robert chuckled, half serious, half sad.
“About 20 to 1. Better if you work like a dog during physical therapy. The damage was extensive and invasive, from cartilage to bone to muscle. Just one of the three would be tough to recover from, but all are probably insurmountable.”
Robert said nothing.
“There’s hope. I’m telling you this so you understand how much work you have ahead of you. Understand?”
“Yeah.”
Hope was not something Robert felt at the moment. Reality, far from hope, began to sink in. He refused to cry, though everyone else in the room gave in to the urge, especially Jessie. Before Christianson told Robert the odds, the room had been mostly silent, except for their conversation and the periodic gasp from various friends and family each time Christianson gave yet another depressing assessment. His athletic career, Robert knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, had just ended. Dwelling on the inevitable was a waste of time, he believed. Though he didn’t want to admit it to the rest in the room, he knew it was time to move on; it was time to find out what God’s purpose was in this recent challenge.
This really sucks, he thought to himself. Now what?
Robert shut his eyes tightly and silently prayed as Christianson left the room and the family closed ranks around him, surrounding him with love and compassion.
Janie, now standing bed side, kissed him on his right cheek. He glanced over at her and felt an odd familiarity in her touch. I think I could love you, he thought, still looking at her, cheeks flushed.