Authors: Johanna Hurwitz
Mostly Monty
This is what Montgomery Gerald Morris had:
A nickname: Monty.
A birthday on August 15. This year he had turned six.
Asthma, which sometimes made it difficult for him to breathe.
An inhaler. It was made of plastic and contained medicine. He carried it in his pocket wherever he went. If he felt that an asthma attack was coming on, he pulled it out real fast and put it in his mouth.
This is what Monty didn’t have:
A brother or a sister.
A pet.
Monty also didn’t have a best friend.
He didn’t have any real friends at all.
It was no wonder. Because of his asthma, he wasn’t permitted to go running around outdoors like other kids. He couldn’t join the Little League team. He couldn’t plan to go to sleepaway camp when he got older. Who would want to be friends with a boy like him?
Monty’s parents were very protective of their son. They worried about his health. Twice in the past, he’d wakened in the night unable to breathe. Both times, he had been rushed to the hospital. It sounds exciting to ride off in an ambulance with a siren and blinking lights. For Monty, it hadn’t been exciting at all. It was scary. Monty didn’t complain about his limitations, but he didn’t like them either. Why did he have to have asthma anyhow?
