Chapter One: Lights Out
Runners on first and second, two outs... Come on, all we need is one more and we're out of this.
Number thirty-nine steps up to the plate. Okay, he flied out to left last time, so let's come at him with a cutter. I sign three and tap my inside thigh. The pitcher nods and winds up.
Thirty-nine swings too late, the ball having already entered my glove.
"Strike one!" The umpire calls.
Good thing he swung at that, it was awful. Next pitch will be an outside fastball. I sign one and tap my outside thigh.
He watches the ball past the plate and into my mitt.
"Ball!" The ump vocalizes.
Okay, that was a waste pitch. Let's see how he feels about a curve.
I make the sign and the pitcher takes note. He winds up and releases the ball I can see it's curve and direction, looks like a decent pitch.
THWACK!
Shit, he hit it! Wait, the guy on third, is he coming home?!
"Home!" I yell at the top of my lungs. Okay here comes the throw. No way he's beating this...
The left fielder's throw was good, so this should an easy out. Okay, he's coming at me. Better brace myself.
He lowers his shoulder and charges into me. His shoulder catches my jaw and I get tossed back, holding the ball in my mitt for dear life.
I hit the ground dazed my only concern is the small, white ball in my mitt.
My vision distorts and I can barely make out that it is in the safety of my glove. The barely audible cheers from the crowd reassure me that I held on.
I can feel the darkness of my eyelids closing in on me. The figure of my coach comes into my vision for a split second, I close my eyes and everything goes black.
A steady beeping noise penetrates through the darkness. I open my eyes and only see light through my right one. I quickly grab my face and realize the blackness is the result bandages.
I look around and see that white ceiling and walls surround me. The only different color is that of a reddish blur hovering near me.
My vision clears a bit and I hear a woman's voice. I think it belongs to a woman, but I can't understand what she said.
My hearing gets somewhat better and the only thing other than the beeping I hear is my name. "Sean?"
"Sean?" I hear repeated again, a bit louder.
As my vision starts to focus I can hear the beeping clearer as well.
I look to my right and see a red-haired woman dressed in medical scrubs.
She repeats my name once more, asking if I can hear her. I look around confused in regards to my surroundings.
"Where am I?" I ask.
"You're in the hospital, Sean," she replies.
I do what anyone would do if they woke up in a hospital bed. I ask what happened.
She holds up one finger. "Let me get the doctor, please stay awake."
I nod in confirmation and wait eager for an explanation.
A few minutes go by and finally I see a middle-aged man wearing a white coat walk into my room, accompanied by the red-haired woman from before.
"So how are we today Mr. Lynch?" the man asks.
I'm just dandy. What do you think I feel like? I'm in a hospital, without a clue as to why I'm here.
"Why am I here? What happened?" I ask.
"Well it makes sense that you don't remember. You did suffer a concussion after all."
What was I doing? Think! The last thing I remember is baseball. The collision? No, that couldn't be it. That was nothing.
After realizing I was staring into space, I answer with the last thing on my mind. "The collision?" A nod from the man confirms my suspicion. "What exactly happened?"
"Well as I said you suffered from a concussion."
A glorified headache. "Is it severe?"
"It's neither severe nor mild, but I would classify it as somewhere in between."
His response relieves me, so I take a deep breath. "Well then, what are the bandages for?"
He looks at me, concern written all over his face. "Do you want them off?"
"Yeah, they're kind of itchy." A true statement, since I was starting to get bothered by them.
The nurse walks behind me, out of my sight, with scissors in her hand. The cutting of my wrappings was the only sound in the room. As they drop from my face, I keep my left eye closed, hoping to avoid any contact with the bandages.
With my eye finally free, I open it, expecting the other half of the room to materialize. What I get, however, is complete darkness. I lift my left hand up in front of my eye and wave it, expecting it to magically force sight into my eye. As I realized what was going on, I look at the doctor with fear in my eyes.
"Calm down," is his response. "Let me get your family in here."
Shocked I lay in my bed, my heart rate was picking up, not only could I feel it but it was also being broadcasted through the heart rate monitor. I was running explanations through my mind, each less plausible than the last.
What could possibly have happened? Did he cleat me in the eye? No, that can't be it. Then it hit me. Didn't I have that weird genetic disease?
As I await my family, I try to remember what the eye doctor had told me about it. I remember he said there was a very small chance that if I took a blow to the head it was possible my vision would worsen.
I recall there was a possibility that I could partially lose sight later in life, just from the degeneration in my retinas. What was it called? It was 'something degeneration,' that much I know. Why can't I remember?
"Damn it..." I mumble under my breath. I decide it is no use getting angry since I will get all my answers soon enough.
By the time my parents and brother get to the hospital, I had already sat through three episodes of Breaking Bad. I turn the TV off as soon as I hear a knock on the door, turning my head towards it.
Luckily, my right eye seems unaffected, else I would have to turn my whole torso.
"Sean!" my mother shouts as she rushes to the chair at my bedside.
"It's okay Mom, I'm alright." I reply, trying to console her. "I'm alright." I say little softer as she squeezes the life out of me. "It's all going to be okay." That was bull and I knew it.
Behind my mother I can see a small blonde-haired figure. Wiping his face with his hand, I can see he must have been crying for quite some time.
"Big brother!" his high-pitched voice cries out.
As he rushes to my bedside, I decide to reassure my little brother that I'm alright.
"Look, I'm fine," I tell him, despite having to turn my entire torso just to see him.
"Really?" he asks wiping tears from his face.
"Yeah," I say, cracking a weak grin. "You know nothing can bring me down for long."
As we reunite I can hear an unmistakeably gruff voice. "How long are you gonna lay there and not even say 'hi' to your old man?"
"I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't even notice you."
He nods in reply. "Well you sure took a spill there bud."
No kidding, dad. I want some answers, curiosity taking hold of me.
"So what exactly happened?" I ask.
"How much do you remember?" my dad asks, rubbing his chin.
"I can vaguely remember the game. I remember there was a play at the plate... and that's about it." A true statement, since I really couldn't remember much.
"The kid you tagged out shouldered you in the side of the head, son." So I did get him out. "You passed out almost immediately after."
I feel my face go blank, letting it all soak in as vague connections are made inside my brain.
"So, why can't I see?" I ask, dreading the answer.
"Do you remember what Doctor Ross said about your eyes?"
I nod. "Yeah."
"Well, the disease you have is called Lattice Degeneration. It causes your retinas to weaken throughout your lifetime."
Lattice Degeneration. No wonder I couldn't remember what it was called. Lattice are for picket fences, not eyes.
"So, I've lost my sight then," I bleakly observe. As the words creep out of my mouth, I can feel my stomach churn and my heart rate pick up.
My father's eyes shoot straight to the floor and the room goes silent, the only exception being the ever-present beeping of the heart-rate monitor.
A knock on the door breaks the silence and the same middle-aged doctor from before walks in. He has a small smile on his face which irritates me a little bit.
"So should we talk options?" he asks.
"Yeah," my dad says, nodding. "Mikey, go outside with your cousin."
I pat my little brother on the head and he walks out of the room reluctantly.
"Alright, my name is Doctor Hasen and I'm the head optometrist here."
I don't know that name. Surely we aren't home, or else I'd know the name. "Where exactly is 'here?'" I ask, curious as to our whereabouts.
"Ruby Memorial," he quickly replies. Great, I'm in West Virginia. "Sean, you were concussed, as you seem to be aware. Anyway, the concussion caused your retina to detach in your left eye. We're going to run some more tests, but unfortunately, it seems like you've lost all vision in that eye."
"There's nothing you can really do," I muse. I already know what his answer is, but I want to hear it for myself.
"Very serious surgery and a retina donor, which," he clears his throat, "is almost unheard of."
My suspicions are confirmed. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
It feels like my heart just jumped up into my throat. My baseball career is over, as is my football career. I could feel the warm streams of tears roll down my face. It's unfair.
"Yes, that's true," the doctor confirms, apparently reading my thoughts. "You won't be allowed to play any contact sports."
Oh, just great. Right before my senior year. We were supposed to go to the State Finals this year!
"What about school?" my father inquires.
"There's no doubt your son's condition is special," he says, twirling his pen. "As such, he won't be able to return to Uniontown next year."
'What?' I wanted to scream into my pillow.
"Where else would I go?" I ask instead. My voice seems slightly shaky.
"There aren't any schools that suit your needs around Pennsylvania. There's one in Michigan, one in California, and one in Maine."
Well, Maine doesn't sound too bad. Michigan and California are different stories.
"However, considering your parents' income, you wouldn't be able to attend any of those."
I'm not quite sure how he knows about our income. Doctor usually don't know that, right?
"Then what else is there?!" my father asks, anger present in his voice.
The doctor stops twirling his pen, a serious look spreading on his face. "There is one place I know you can afford, but it's something of a stretch."
This can't be good. Stretches are never good, no matter what it is.
"Where is it?" my dad asks.
"It's in Japan. You can afford it, and it's one of the best schools in the world for people with special needs," he says, pleading his case.
Wait, special needs?
"You've got to be joking," my father says, disbelief written on his face.
"Not at all." The doctor is completely serious, it seems. "It's called Yamaku Academy. It's in the Miyagi Prefecture in the northeast of Japan." Is this really happening right now? "They have the latest medical equipment in their facilities and medical staff on campus."
My mom and dad look at each other, seemingly considering what the doctor had just said.
"We want the best for our son, but it's up to him if he goes or not," my mom says, surprising me a bit. Thanks for pulling me on a guilt trip, mom.
"If we can afford it, and it's as good as you say, then okay." What did I just say? No matter, too late now. "I have a few questions, though. Like, how am I going to communicate with the teachers and other students?"
"Most of the teachers speak English, so they can help you if you don't grasp Japanese that well." It seems that this guy knows a lot about this school.
"Well, when will I go?"
"The Japanese school year starts in April, so you'll leave a day or two before then."
This actually might work, but I don't know Japanese.
"Well, how am I going to learn Japanese in a month?"
It seems I finally stumped him, a pondering look coming across his face.
"You'll just have to get a professional tutor and gain a decent understanding in about a month's time."
Well at least I have quite a bit of time to learn the language. "Okay, that's all I got," I say, turning to my parents. "You guys want to know anything?"
"You seem to have covered all the bases," my mother decides. "Will this count as his senior year?"
The doctor again pauses to think "We will have to work that out with your current school and Yamaku, but that is what I suspect."
"Well then it looks like my fate is sealed. When do I get out of here?" I ask.
The doctor looks at the chart next to my bed. Through his flipping of pages I make out 'Sean Lynch' multiple times, along with 'LDD.' I assume it stands for 'Lattice Degeneration Disorder' or something of the sort.
"It looks like you'll be out February 27th, three days from now."
It seems like this guy has all the answers. He must've done some serious research.
"Thanks a lot, Doctor Hansen. I really appreciate this."
I seem to catch him off guard. "Oh, it was no problem. If my kid was in the hospital, I would want his doctor to take good care of him."
With that he shakes my dad's hand and exits the room.
After the doctor leaves, my parents begin to discuss our financial problems and possible solutions. I'm asked every now and then how I feel about certain things, but I'm not one to complain.
They had already sacrificed so much for me, so being picky was uncalled for.
Some time passes and they let my brother in, as well as some other visitors in. I get hit by a barrage of 'we're so happy you're alright', 'you had us scared's, and the like.
After everyone gets filled in, they're all mostly shocked. Many don't understand why I have to go all the way to Japan, but they are quickly informed by my parents and myself.
AN: If you are a new reader then welcome! but, you will have no idea what I'm about to talk about. Everyone else, I have edited all chapters up to Chapter 6 and combined One and Two together. I just felt that most newcomers were deterred by the length of Chapter One and the fact that basically one thing happened. Anyway, the changes are minor now but some will play a major part in upcoming chapters. If you have suggestions feel free to let me know, and I will reply to any questions through PM.