Mesmerised by a dim light, I noticed my mother quietly weeping in a padded white office chair. She saw that I was awake, and muttered with a noticeable creak in her voice,
“Eu queria que você não fizesse isso.”
“I wish you didn’t do it.”
I lay there, scorched with regret, not knowing how to answer. My parents, who risked everything to immigrate here from Portugal, were now sitting next to their child in a hospital bed. And for what? I am the one in pain, but they are the ones who are suffering.
In 8th grade, I spoke frequently, and those who cared to listen became my friends. Middle school classes didn’t matter to me. All I cared about was climbing the social ladder, Football was an express lane to popularity. We had made a championship run that year. I ignored my parents who were worried about my safety, I thought I was invincible. For a long
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But, I was easily swayed, when approached by the head coach of my town’s high school football team. I agreed to join, but I knew it wouldn’t work. I was going to attend high school in a different town and wouldn’t make it back in time for practice. So why did I choose to do it?
It didn’t take long for practices to fly by, as I powered through the month of August into the first practice of September. It was a regular day. Plays were being run, and the coaches were screaming as always. I showed up a little late that day, and had to run a few laps. Midway through, I was called upon by one of my coaches, “Danny, stop running, get in.” The practice was a breeze, and the coach finally said, “Alright, last one for today, make it a good one.” Out of nowhere the quarterback drops back, and appeared to pass the football. I realized too late it was a fake. Boom. Who turned off the lights?
I was transported shortly after to a nearby hospital and spent the next two days there. It became apparent that I had suffered a grade 3 concussion. How could I have been so