The Secret Life of Charlie St.Clair

9. Hope

“Will you let me go for Christ's sake? Will you take that phony dream and burn it before something happens?”

― Arthur Miller, Death of a Salesman

15th March

Dear Charlie,

I've been in your room for a while trying to figure out what I would have put in the speech I'm not sure I'll get the chance to make. So far all I have is 'My brother Charlie was…'. Your room had always perplexed me It's the exact opposite of you. I remember you always made your bed with military precision, all your books and text books were neatly filed away on shelves. The trophy's and medals from when you were on the football team and from debating and other academic achievements were stored in a glass trophy cabinet our parents had gotten you at about 12 or 13. Your room was always immaculate, though I can never recall seeing you clean it. In a way, I kind of hated it. Completely lifeless, it seemed to be a complete antonym of everything you were, or at least what you allowed me to know. I guess you used it as a sort of façade, to convince our parents that you were the person you were pretending to be.

In other news I went back to the hospital, this time to get my back checked out. After he finished examining my back he sat down and looked me in the eye, before addressing me and mum.

"Mrs St.Clair, Lucas, I have some news. There is a new experimental procedure that is working on rehabilitating paraplegics. They are starting clinical trials and looking for volunteers. Thus far it has been successful and I was looking through you're case files and you a prime candidate for the procedure due to the short period since your injury and your athletic background. Of course no surgery is without risks, due to the nature of the breaks in your spine, complications in surgery could lead to the loss of arm movement and even full paralysis. As well as this, infection after surgery could result in the loss of both legs physically." he stopped talking as I opened my mouth to say something, but when I could not find the words continued "I know it's a lot to take in and a hard decision to make, especially now as you're probably still adjusting to your current situation. I also know that it's unprofessional of me to give a biased opinion, but I would urge you to consider the treatment, because if it works, it could really give you your life back Lucas".

My eyes were trained on the floor, afraid I'd throw up if I looked up. I felt like he'd just pulled the rug from under me, I was finally reconciling with the loss of my legs and now I was facing the prospect of getting them back. Neither me nor mum, spoke for a few minutes, until I broke the silence "will I be able to run again" I asked, the doctor leaned back as if anticipating that question, "yes, with lots of hard work and persistence you could gain most of you motor functions back.  It's even possi…" I cut him off, "no, no that’s not what I meant will I be able to run. Will I be able to sprint, compete, will I be the fastest, will I… will I…" I pause "will I be brilliant". The doctor straightened again and my heart sank, he said finally after a brief silence "so far, tests have only  been able to bring back 60% of functionality back to patients, and while that may be enough to see you walk again, and maybe even run it will certainly not be at a competitive level", that’s all this was, all it ever is. False hope. They both looked at me, waiting for an answer and I gave the one, hoarsely at first but the with more resolve "Then I'll wait.", mum shook her head besides me and the doctor started to explain to me how this was my chance, now is my chance. " No." I said calmly "No, No, No. sprinting, competing, that is…was my life and if this surgery can't give me that, then I don’t want it because not being able to compete is not being able to live, whether I'm in a wheelchair, on crutches or walking, it's all the same to me. If this surgery can't give me my sport back, then I'll wait until it can.