Summer of 2007, though the sun was glittering and of course broiling, yet I remained next to the darkness and walked under the shadows. Unfortunately to those who were surrounded around me, were up against the stress, because I was what you can say going through a phase of “puberty”. The times of being emotional, the anger issues, and of course the heat just had to sugar coat everything, even the smallest things overwhelmed my body and things just got out of control. It became worse as I was in the process, I caught myself bickering with my mom a lot, clueless of what she was trying to imply and all she could do was try and lecture me.
But with the rush of anger taking over my mind, it leads to another, unexciting to an unusual physical behavior. I never understood why I got so mad, why was this anger building up so fast over something so small? It was rather pointless when I thought about it, getting mad over a petty situation. During the time I was in my house, conflicts grew and fights were endless. It was late at night, and my mom was in a different city; in a business run. We were arguing over the phone, and I couldn’t take it anymore, all we did was go in circles, and everything inside of me was just building with the antagonism.
But with that raging fire, I took my fist and forced out a hard hit against a filling cabinet. Creating a huge dent, and yet without feeling any sensation of pain. But then when I looked down at my injury it was the size of a plum, and the color was in a velvet red shade. I was confused, I asked myself “Is my hand broken?…. ” my sister in law was infuriated, she hated seeing me being so wrathful. She took me to our bedroom, and laid my hand on the pillow while rubbing the hot oil on my hand to ease the pain. We laid there for thirty minutes; I began to cry and wimp over and over.
She was so worried she couldn’t help and just took me to the hospital. Where all I could feel incompetent, and the retched agony. The Vietnam emergency hospital is what you can define as “CREEPY”. The walls were dark, the lights were dimmed, and it looked like a broken hospital. The halls were in a dark empty silent, like a taunting hospital. I was taken into a room where they did an x-ray on my hand. As I was waiting; sitting along the aisles of empty chairs waiting for the results.
I then hear a rushing woman, running down the obscure hall, and what do you know it was my aunt rushing over to me (my second mother). She asked me so many question, having her by my side I felt comfort, after the explanation, I lied on her lap and hope to not be removed anywhere. Few minutes later, the nurse came by and said my bones where displaced. I didn’t clearly understand what the nurse was suggesting me to do. I felt uneasy, and nervous what was about to happen next. As we walked through the dark halls, I noticed a patient sitting on a bench in the middle of the dark garden.
He was sitting there in a full white hospital gown. He looked lonesome and sad, but all I could do was walk beside my aunt’s side. As we crossed the black garden, we entered the second building of the hospital. We approached a strange room, I felt rather paranoid, and also anxious of what will happen next. As the nursed slide the metal door; I peeked and saw that the doctor was awakening off his bed on the left corner. For that I was disturb, the doctor put on his white coat. He came by and talked to the nurse, looking through the report.
I assumed he was a vicious man, assuming from his expressions. I was afraid to be alone, and didn’t want him to cut open my hand. He asked me to lie on the patient’s bed, I looked up and above my head was a bar, the doctor told me to raise my hand. Freaked as I was, he then started to strap a weird wrapper around my fingers; that was tied on the bar. My hand was hanging like a fresh sausage, he took these weights that were tied and laid them over on my arm, where the weights begin to pull down my arm, while my fingers are being held and stuck in the wrapper.
I tried to control myself, from the quenching screams and tears. He slowly added more weights on my arms; the weights were killing me inside. The moment the doctor took a seat next to my head, he examined my hands. And out of the dark night, I couldn’t control my screams as he was pushing my palm, moving the bones. I released the pain, and screeched out; all I could do was screaming and cry. The man continued pushing my hand several times; the pain wouldn’t leave me alone. My aunt was sitting outside in the halls by herself witnessing every pain.
I couldn’t believe was in this room, where a man was pressuring my hand in order to position the structure back into its place. The man didn’t comfort me, he actually complained at me for screaming. But overall after all that pain I went through, the man wrapped up my arm with a white cloth, colliding my arm with a white paste. I left the hospital in a deep, cold silent, I never once looked back, and through I felt like the time went by so slow, the night was just the beginning of a sleep.