“I’m sorry, I have some bad news…” My heart sank. What was wrong with me? After a series of tests, I found out. The suspense is killing me. What do I have? Will I be okay?
“The condition you have is called Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis, or JRA.” Silence.
“Is it treatable?”
“Of course, however, you may need to stop playing sports if we see any decline in your health.”
Silence. Tears.
Sports and competition shape my life, how could I just stop? That might be necessary if I wanted to become healthy. The doctor prescribed me a steroid and I revisited one month later. And at that appointment, my future would be determined…
If I can’t play sports, what do I do? Do I become the manager? Maybe I’ll join Broadway Company. I could always find something else to participate in, besides sports aren’t everything.
Wrong. Maybe to others sports aren’t everything, but to me sports are everything. I have played sports almost my entire life. Without them, I am not Sam Fredman.
In less than 10 minutes, my life could be altered forever. Scared. That’s the only emotion I felt.
The doctor marched in. He opened his mouth. “Good news, so far, you seem to have a minor case of JRA”. I felt some relief. For now, I could continue to live, play sports, and to enjoy life everyday not having that thought stored in my head that I am sick. No one can tell I have this disease. My symptoms are under control. I can compete and even excel. That’s what I want.