Post by somerandomhippie1 on Aug 3, 2010 22:59:16 GMT -5
Earth
11th May 2453
Ah, football. Penn's face couldn't help splitting into a grin as his coach, also his maths teacher, sent him out on the pitch. The game to end all games. To feel his muscles screaming, the wind whipping past his face, the blood pumping in his veins during every match. He loved it. It was the one thing he could call his-- past his average grade, his mediocre looks, his unspectacular life. He could always play football.
He glanced over a few feet, to where his family was sitting. His sister, Donna, had finally shown up for one of his matches. She had originally been totally against the idea- He's my brother! I'm not supposed to be seen with him in public! Besides, football's boring!- but his parents had finally nagged her into coming. She was totally into it now, cheering and waving frantically as he jogged onto the pitch. Typical Donna.
He tensed, and sprinted down the sidelines as his fronter got the ball. He sent it flying to Penn. With the ease of practice, he caught it off his chest, and began running. Oh, this was the life. It was exhilarating. This was what he lived for.
There was a blur, off to his right. Suddenly, something thudded into him. He went flying, past the lines, into the stands, right below his family. He almost went through the metal bleachers, but not quite-- he screamed as his chest flared with pain, convulsing, crunching him even farther into the underside of the bench. He squeezed his face shut, letting himself fall limp. His ribs exploded again. He managed to keep the holler in, just grimacing in horror. Everything was looking kind of murky now.
His parents ran up to him, holding him still. His sister ran onto the pitch, whacking his assailant in the nose before joining them. "Penn, Penn, can you hear me?" she called, a little louder than necessary. "Don't go to the light, the light is bad, stay here..."
He tried to laugh, and tell her he was alright. It hurt too much, and he crunched his eyes up, trying not to cry like a child. He felt his face was wet, his parents yelling, holding him still. Donna was running around like a decapitated chicken, trying to tell everyone what to do. He heard sirens, eventually.
-Around 12 hours later-
He was lying in a bed, trying to breathe without moving his ribs. It still hurt, even after the binding and the surgery and everything else. He couldn't remember. All he could think about was football-- had they won the game? What about the rest of the season? The rest of his career? He couldn't play after an injury like this. No team in their right mind would draft someone as busted up as he was. Or who broke so easily.
The doctor walked in, and his mum, drowsing, immediately leapt up. "Is he OK, Doctor?" she asked frantically. "He'll be OK, right?"
The doctor nodded. "He's making a good recovery," he assured Mrs. Gwyther. "His ribs are setting nicely, he should be out of here in a couple days."
"What happened?" Penn asked urgently. His family had refused to tell him, and so had the nurses. He couldn't stand this any longer. He was going mad from all the secrets.
The doctor sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You're quite a lucky lad," he started off. "You fractured three of your ribs, and cracked another. You're lucky you didn't puncture a lung." He took a breath. "From what I've heard from your family, and others, you got slammed into the bleachers. Normally that wouldn't be so bad. You hit them at a horrible angle, though, and on a bad spot in the bleachers. The sheer force managed to shatter them. We had to grow extra marrow to fill in the missing shards." He braced himself. "I'm sorry, lad. But I can't let you put any strain on those ribs for a long time, lest they break again. I'm sorry, but you may have to give up your footballing." He stood up. "May I have a word with you, Mrs. Gwyther?" he asked, heading to the door. His mum nodded, and they stepped outside.
Penn laid his head back down. That hadn't come as much of a surprise. The dull ache, the sorrow, had been eating at his heart for a while now. He had accepted it, even if he hadn't come to terms with it.
It was the doctor's words that had him thinking. He could have punctured a rib, he had said. He knew enough from biology class that that would have been horrible. They had saved his life, probably. And growing marrow-- it was like creating life from nothing. He hadn't really focused on anything in school, only football. He had liked biology class, sure, it had been one of the few he didn't mind going to. He couldn't believe how much it intrigued him, though. It was amazing, this medical stuff. His curiosity was getting the better of him.
The doctor and his mum came back in again. "Thank you, Doctor," his mum said, her voice light. The doctor nodded, and headed for the door again.
"Doctor?" he asked, hesitantly. He turned. "About that marrow stuff... How does that work, exactly?"
The doctor paused, then considered him. "I'll be back in a minute," he told him, leaving silently.
He came back a few minutes later, with some university textbooks on medical procedures. Penn poured through them, finally asking for a dictionary when he found too many things he couldn't understand. They brought him one, and some more textbooks, closer to his level. He found them fascinating, much to the amusement of his sister. She joked they must have slipped some football magazines in there, he was reading so intently. By the time he got back to school, he had finished off most of them, apart from the advanced diagnosis's and surgeries. He knew what he was doing now. He would save people, like the doctors there had fixed him up, as well as they could. Every cloud had a silver lining, if you looked hard enough.
11th May 2453
Ah, football. Penn's face couldn't help splitting into a grin as his coach, also his maths teacher, sent him out on the pitch. The game to end all games. To feel his muscles screaming, the wind whipping past his face, the blood pumping in his veins during every match. He loved it. It was the one thing he could call his-- past his average grade, his mediocre looks, his unspectacular life. He could always play football.
He glanced over a few feet, to where his family was sitting. His sister, Donna, had finally shown up for one of his matches. She had originally been totally against the idea- He's my brother! I'm not supposed to be seen with him in public! Besides, football's boring!- but his parents had finally nagged her into coming. She was totally into it now, cheering and waving frantically as he jogged onto the pitch. Typical Donna.
He tensed, and sprinted down the sidelines as his fronter got the ball. He sent it flying to Penn. With the ease of practice, he caught it off his chest, and began running. Oh, this was the life. It was exhilarating. This was what he lived for.
There was a blur, off to his right. Suddenly, something thudded into him. He went flying, past the lines, into the stands, right below his family. He almost went through the metal bleachers, but not quite-- he screamed as his chest flared with pain, convulsing, crunching him even farther into the underside of the bench. He squeezed his face shut, letting himself fall limp. His ribs exploded again. He managed to keep the holler in, just grimacing in horror. Everything was looking kind of murky now.
His parents ran up to him, holding him still. His sister ran onto the pitch, whacking his assailant in the nose before joining them. "Penn, Penn, can you hear me?" she called, a little louder than necessary. "Don't go to the light, the light is bad, stay here..."
He tried to laugh, and tell her he was alright. It hurt too much, and he crunched his eyes up, trying not to cry like a child. He felt his face was wet, his parents yelling, holding him still. Donna was running around like a decapitated chicken, trying to tell everyone what to do. He heard sirens, eventually.
-Around 12 hours later-
He was lying in a bed, trying to breathe without moving his ribs. It still hurt, even after the binding and the surgery and everything else. He couldn't remember. All he could think about was football-- had they won the game? What about the rest of the season? The rest of his career? He couldn't play after an injury like this. No team in their right mind would draft someone as busted up as he was. Or who broke so easily.
The doctor walked in, and his mum, drowsing, immediately leapt up. "Is he OK, Doctor?" she asked frantically. "He'll be OK, right?"
The doctor nodded. "He's making a good recovery," he assured Mrs. Gwyther. "His ribs are setting nicely, he should be out of here in a couple days."
"What happened?" Penn asked urgently. His family had refused to tell him, and so had the nurses. He couldn't stand this any longer. He was going mad from all the secrets.
The doctor sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You're quite a lucky lad," he started off. "You fractured three of your ribs, and cracked another. You're lucky you didn't puncture a lung." He took a breath. "From what I've heard from your family, and others, you got slammed into the bleachers. Normally that wouldn't be so bad. You hit them at a horrible angle, though, and on a bad spot in the bleachers. The sheer force managed to shatter them. We had to grow extra marrow to fill in the missing shards." He braced himself. "I'm sorry, lad. But I can't let you put any strain on those ribs for a long time, lest they break again. I'm sorry, but you may have to give up your footballing." He stood up. "May I have a word with you, Mrs. Gwyther?" he asked, heading to the door. His mum nodded, and they stepped outside.
Penn laid his head back down. That hadn't come as much of a surprise. The dull ache, the sorrow, had been eating at his heart for a while now. He had accepted it, even if he hadn't come to terms with it.
It was the doctor's words that had him thinking. He could have punctured a rib, he had said. He knew enough from biology class that that would have been horrible. They had saved his life, probably. And growing marrow-- it was like creating life from nothing. He hadn't really focused on anything in school, only football. He had liked biology class, sure, it had been one of the few he didn't mind going to. He couldn't believe how much it intrigued him, though. It was amazing, this medical stuff. His curiosity was getting the better of him.
The doctor and his mum came back in again. "Thank you, Doctor," his mum said, her voice light. The doctor nodded, and headed for the door again.
"Doctor?" he asked, hesitantly. He turned. "About that marrow stuff... How does that work, exactly?"
The doctor paused, then considered him. "I'll be back in a minute," he told him, leaving silently.
He came back a few minutes later, with some university textbooks on medical procedures. Penn poured through them, finally asking for a dictionary when he found too many things he couldn't understand. They brought him one, and some more textbooks, closer to his level. He found them fascinating, much to the amusement of his sister. She joked they must have slipped some football magazines in there, he was reading so intently. By the time he got back to school, he had finished off most of them, apart from the advanced diagnosis's and surgeries. He knew what he was doing now. He would save people, like the doctors there had fixed him up, as well as they could. Every cloud had a silver lining, if you looked hard enough.