Dreams Crashing Around Me
As I walk up to home plate with my bat resting on my shoulder; I take a deep breath and as I exhale out, the weight of the outcome of this game hit me. I knew that if I did not hit in this winning run, my team would not win the birth to go to the Nationals. My thoughts were interrupted by the announcer as he clears his voice over the park speakers and says with an excited and loud voice,” Now up to bat, number twenty-four, Sarah Reis!” My heart stars to race in excitement and uneasiness; I look over and see my teammates and my coaches. I knew I could not let them down. I take a deep breath and look over at my daddy. He is standing there with a big goofy smile on his chubby face; his thumb is sticking up giving me the sign of encouragement. Out of habit, I began to prepare myself ready for another battle with another pitcher. My cleats dig a divot into the batter’s box while my arms extend out, reaching the far side of home plate and tap the corner, in the same movement, my arms bend to place the bat into the nook of my shoulder. My knees bend into my batting stance. Even though this is a habit to me, this battle is a bigger battle.
The pitcher starts her wind-up. As the ball is hurling towards me, it felt as though everything slowed down. Tears began to fall from my eyes onto my sunburnt and freckled face. As I began to swing, my body aches and screams out in pain. I groan as my bat makes contact with the yellow softball. My hands let go of the bat and it falls to the ground. My team, coaches, and fans cheer, but I could not hear them; all I could hear is a whisper in my head say, “Run, you can endure!” As I start to run up the baseline towards first base, my body continues to scream out in pain pleading with me to stop running, but that simple whisper I heard makes me keep running. My cleat stepped on first base and in the same moment, I collapse in the red dirt and began to cry. So many thoughts are going through my head all at once. As I lay there in the dirt, I close my eyes and my body shut down. While I lay there, my memory took me back to when my mom and I were at Emory Hospital.
My mom and I were at the Emory Hospital in a room waiting for the doctor to come in. I remembered my mom sitting in the hard plastic chair next to me looking over some of the many blood tests from previous appointments with other doctors. As we sat waiting for the doctor, I could feel a tension in the room that I had not experienced in the other appointments with other doctors. My mom usually wore a face of confidence and her eyes always shown with kindness and love, but today her eyes showed of worry and tiredness. Her face was tense, tight, and pale; the paleness caused her dark bags under her eyes to be more apparent. I gazed at the floor as I awkwardly tried to rest my elbows on my knees; the pain became unbearable, so I shifted my gaze to the ceiling. I slowly shifted my weight, trying to keep my clothes from rubbing my skin too much. While I was focusing on that, my back grazed the back of the chair and my body shuttered with pain. Mom and I heard a knock at the door.
The doctor entered, as he walked over to where we were; the smell of hand sanitizer and Lysol filled the tiny room. He introduced himself to my mother and shook her hand, then I began to dread what was about to happen next. He came over to my chair and introduced himself and held his hand out to be shaken. Everything in me did not want to shake his hand; I reached up and put a fake smile on my face and shook his hand. When our hands touched, it felt like I placed my hand inside of a fire; the pain from my hand shot all the way through my body. I remember him asking me how I was doing and I answered, “I am doing just fine”, but I knew that was a lie from the pit of hell and what was worse is that he knew it too. The doctor put on his spectacles and reviewed my charts.
He took off the spectacles and look at my mom and inhaled, his eyes slowly met mine. He exhaled and said, “I have some bad news. Sarah, you have medical disorder called Fibromyalgia. This is a long-term syndrome; it does not have any treatments. You will not be able to continue at the intensity level of sports you are now.” After he said those words, I couldn’t listen to the rest. My face went pale, my eyes were dull and lifeless, and my heart became numb. After the appointment, I stood up and walked out of the hospital like a zombie. So many thoughts filled my head; I knew I could not lose anything else from my life. I already had lost my best friend, boyfriend, and relationships with my family. I became determined; I would not let this stupid syndrome take away my sports. My mom and I got to the car. She asked me, “Sarah, are you okay?” I just shook my head, there were so many answers I wanted to say, but my mouth would not open, so I just cried instead…the whole way home.
My mom and dad were talking about what to do. They came to me and said it would be best if I did not play sports like I used to. I said no, I have to play in this tournament! I have to do it for my team! FOR MYSELF! We have to win this tournament to get the birth to go to the nations so that I can get scouted for college softball! The tournament came around and I went; despite what everyone said. I had to play.
My eyes finally open. My body aching with pain from the cold bleachers they had carried me to. I felt someone holding my hand, it was my daddy. We made eye contact and I knew right then that I could not continue life the same. All my hopes and dreams crashed and were shattered, like a mirror that was thrown to the ground in a simple instant. I closed my eyes began to cry in agony of losing this battle. My dreams crashed around me.
