Wounds to Awakening
My own thoughts taunted me. I took a single step out of my front door and my legs fell weak with fear, but I knew it was vital to proceed. Timidly, I made my way to our stagnant Nissan Pathfinder sitting out front. The balmy sun hit my cotton t shirt and stung my tired morning eyes. “Are you feeling ok?”, my mom stated in concerned tone. “Yeah, I guess”, I replied. But truthfully, the feeling in my stomach was like when you walk out of an exam, and the only question you knew was your name. As we drove together in silence on a sweltering 80-degree June day, I pondered why the universe let these things happen.
One unbearable mile from my house, we parked our car in Erickson Kim’s parking lot. Why me? I thought. Resent flooded over my body like wave breaking the surface and smashing onto the scorching sand. Everyone was savoring their perfect summer day; swimming in refreshing pools or laying on a lawn chair letting the rays blanket their skin. But here I was, stuck in this futile office that reeked of latex and Lysol. Neglecting to listen to the receptionist and my mom engaging in small talk, I notice an archaic T.V showing a documentary of sea life darting in-between vibrant pieces of coral; the only viewers were the hard, plastic, waiting
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The whole experience is both horrendous and eye opening. After only just a small surgery most people must encounter, I start to understand something I did not before. I became grateful. There are innumerable people enduring surgeries that I can’t even comprehend, experiencing a life that is unknown to me. They battle for their lives, while we go about daily activities without a second thought. Losing your health for a moment really makes you reconsider complaining about meaningless ailments, especially ones that promise recovery. So often we lose sight of how lucky we are; to breathe, to walk, to learn, to