Operation Father/Son

Spring was ready to turn up the heat and the season was going to change its stage name to summer screaming the eighties were approaching fast. As the small television broadcasted the Athletics beating up the Yankees in the first of a three-game series at the Stadium, a born disabled reality scene played out across the metropolis town.

A father fighting off tears sat at the bedside inside the hospital known world-wide for performing special operations. An intravenous was attached using a needle and the father watched the medicated influenced liquid dinner flow through the tube arriving in the arm.

“I am sorry we did this to you,” the thirty-year-old apologized, “it was for your own good.”

If Ripley’s were reporting this event in their newsletter no one would believe it. An energetic youthful individual marched into a New York City health care facility supported by wooden aides only to disappear. Within the next forty-eight hours the youngster was unconscious and in a body cast. Carrying on Gotham tradition fresh off covering a serial killer who received instructions from a legendary German Shephard named ‘Sam’ tabloid reporters were across the street scurrying around looking for details that could free American hostages a million miles away.

“You are going to be all right, this all was planned out,” the father whispered while downstairs in the cafeteria a film crew gained access for a night shoot featuring a blonde-haired cover model Broadway Rockette playing a nurse fighting against an alien force kidnapping beautiful women.

“I still do not understand it son, they moved something to your inner leg and put it down there then they purposely broke your ankles,” the father explained, “okay you won’t grow anymore but you were not going to be a basketball player.”

Entering the dark room whose colorful nightlights came from the machines a registered nurse wearing scrubs that highlighted kid friendly images handled routine duties checking mechanical pediatric issues occurring during the adult situations happening near the station where she worked.

“Mr. A Simon,” she acknowledged.

“Yes, I am A Simon,”

“They got to the root of the problem and your son will be fine,” she comforted.

Smoothly changing the subject, the health care employee saw the game score before the commercial, “so how are our boys doing tonight?”

“I do not think they are going to come back from the dead like last year chasing the Red Sox,” Mr. A Simon predicted noticing the nurse leave the room gracefully.

Months past Mr. A Simon’s offspring spent the heated summer in casts while recuperating at home, he was able to be tutored and would be moving up into the next grade with his friends. Now that the plaster was removed weekly trips to sit on gigantic balls surviving physical therapy appointments replaced the preadolescent’s recreational activities agenda. But these results only meant by autumn the child would be back to a normal schedule. Surgery fall out could be seen when the crutches changed their appearance. No longer were they the timber type in his armpits instead metal ones were silvery style and if used as a bat he would have a better swing. If the projection were correct as he aged canes or walking sticks would be the last step.

Dropping one loud clanging sounding apparatus Kennedy George manipulated ball and mitt while practicing throwing to his father who was only a few feet away.

“How’s the soccer team doing, KG?”

“Still getting over forty-five targeted shots toward the goal,” KG mentioned.

“That’s good for Junior High?”

“Yeah, I guess,”

“How about you?”

“I got an “A” for a creative English assignment?”

“Really,”

“I wrote about an alien invasion who used a German shepherd to control terrorists and told them to take American hostages in a far-off land to control the Presidential election.”

“Really,” A Simon was impressed, “what was the dog’s name?”

“Millie.”

After the father/son catch A Simon returned to his study and pulled a paperback off the shelf. Written by a well-known columnist the fantasy trip was entertaining in the same manner as what he wrote in the paper.

Sitting down he opened the book and the thought struck him. “My son is going to be a success just like everybody else and he will be a winner in this game called life.”