1986 - The Helicopter
He had asthma attacks, triggered by anxiety. And there was no shortage of anxiety in the Luthor household, despite Lionel having more or less forbidden all fear.
Pamela was getting the boy ready for bed and had casually asked him what he was doing tomorrow, and he'd launched into a panic attack.
When she could finally get him to tell her what was bothering him, he had to stop for breath after every word or two: "Dad said." Breath. "I have." Breath. "To." Breath. "Ride." Breath. Breath. "The." Alexander collapsed into wheezing, gripping his chest.
"Helicopter," Pamela said, filling in the blank and nodding in understanding. Alexander always reacted this way to heights. He didn't always panic the day before he had to face his fear, though. Pamela shook out his inhaler and attached it to the spacer, holding it out to him. "Remember to breathe out before you press down."
He did, breathing in slowly after pressing down on the inhaler. As soon as he handed it back to her, though, he was back to panicking about the helicopter, although he was able to keep his breathing even. "I—I don't want to ride it, it's too scary."
"I know, Alexander. But your father will be right there with you, and his pilot is one of the best in the world. And you'll have your inhaler with you, just in case."
"Can you come with me?"
"There's not enough room for another person."
"Please?" He was starting to get himself worked up again.
"Alexander, look at me. Deep breaths." She made a show of breathing in slowly, then letting it out.
He followed along with her breaths, though he was still shaking. "C-can I close my eyes the whole time I'm up there?"
"I don't see why not." She kissed his forehead. "Listen to me, Alexander. Are you listening?"
He nodded.
She pushed back his hair and looked him right in the eyes. "You're going to be just fine. Do you understand?"
His eyes shone, but he said, "Yes, ma'am."