Mark's mom cried out as she saw her baby groaning in pain, and practically hacking up his lung on the bathroom floor.

In addition to his chest pains he's been having, he hadn't been able to breathe during wrestling practice for a week; chalking it up to some pneumonia or asthma or something. But now it was getting too bad to even walk from class to class in school; or from room to room in his house.

"I'm taking you to the emergency room. Breathe." She knelt down with him on the tile floor, tears beading in her eyes.

Soon enough Mark was driven to the hospital, and immediately taken to get some scans done. After a few rounds of x-rays, various checkups, some paper questionaries and testimonials from his mom (his mom following the doctors everywhere they went and sobbing her baby hasn't been able to breathe for a week). It was clear something was terribly wrong.

For the moment, they put him in a room, gave him an oxygen mask, a machine to monitor his breathing, and told him to press a button to call one of the nurses over if he had to get out of bed for any reason.

Not the way Mark would like to spend a Friday night.