To the Reader:
It was hard to write this essay, and it was even harder to revise it.
I spiced it up with more descriptive details, added some metaphor at the end and got rid of some “cluttered” sentences and unnecessary repetition. In general I asked myself about the purpose of my writing, which, believe it or not, startled me for a while. That is a good question. I never thought about why I want to write about this very week of my life. Probably, to make people aware of the fact that this can happen to anyone, make them precise what they have, or make them happy by realizing that they are surrounded by a family. I just wanted to share my horrible experience, because I dont think everyone went through stuff like this and it might be interesting to read.
Life Collapse followed by a successful revival.
This is a little story of my big struggle. My life can be divided in two parts: Russia and the USA, or, being more precise, cloudless and worriless existence back home and challenging survival in the alien country. I say “survival” because of many well-known things common to every immigrant, starting with difficulties finding a (decent) job and ending with psychological disorders that can happen to an individual who have been experiencing cultural shock and alienation. We all guess about the difficulties we may face abroad, but some of us dont know to what extend we will be exposed to them.
I love the USA, its friendly people, wide range of opportunities, finally, Black Friday sales, and I also faced one more side of the country that I did not think about: healthcare. And in general it turned out to work much better than the one in Russia.
That evening I felt pain in my chest and a shortness of breath. I decided to sit down and relax, but it did not get any better, so I was taken to a hospital and diagnosed with a spontaneous pneumothorax (lung collapse). When I asked the hospital staff what it means, they hurried to explain it to me, and one of them even printed out a Wikipedia entry on that diagnosis. No one from the people surrounding me knew about this diagnosis, which is very weird (and this rare thing had to happen to me). I went through two surgeries. The doctor said later if I waited for twenty more minutes before going to the ER, I could have died.
I remember squeezing my moms golden chain with a cross in my sweaty hands (they asked me to take it of my neck), how hard it was for me to breathe, how somebody told me to look away, how one of ER doctors was trying to insert the tube by poking me in between my ribs for about fifteen times, how he would go in between my bones with his finger to make some space prior to stabbing me with the tube, I remember hearing my own groans, and it felt like they belonged to someone else. I was only given morphine (a drug almost identical to heroine), which just made me high and did not knock me down. All these doctors manipulations made the cut rip even more, and I felt cold blood running down my torso. After the doctor succeeded in pushing the tube through (which felt like a knife inside of me), his assistant said: “congratulations, your first surgery went well.” Noticing my face full of surprise, the other one hurryingly added: “ah…well… as of today.” I was shocked to realize that I was their ginny pig.
Then the second surgery followed which was more complex and took about three hours. The recovery took much longer, I felt like I was struggling to survive, I had a hard time walking, breathing and even sneezing.
Being here by myself (having no family whatsoever), I went through a hard time, but I am glad I received a lot of support from my friends and I feel blessed to have some of them ready to come and be with me all night long, no matter what.
That happened on February, 2011, when the protests in Egypt got more intense and led to Parliamentary re-elections. In 2011 it is claimed that Osama Bin Laden was killed. Radko Mladic, the former Bosnian Serb general responsible for killing 8000 Muslims was found and arrested (though he could hardly walk- thats how old he was). Terrorist attack in Norway happened in the same year: 68 people killed by a gunman. Russia: the parliamentary elections are found to be fraudulent; hundreds and hundreds of people protest near Kremlin. New York: same sex marriage act is signed, Occupy Wall Street protests start.
It is really hard for me to associate this moment of my life with any events that happened in the States or in the world. When I was in the hospital, I could care less about what was going on outside my window, most of the time I was unconscious. Still, I think I can draw parallels with only one event, Bin Ladens death. He had been searched for such a long time, but eventually was found and shot, though he tried to hide so hard. The same scenario was with me: sooner or later the collapse should have happened, simply because my lungs are my Achilles heel. It is good that I went through a surgery now, because the older you get, the more complications a surgery can bring; same with Bin Laden: he could have killed more people, but he was caught before he caused any more harm. Osama Bin Laden was the reason the World Trade Center collapsed, triggering peoples doubt in their future, same with my health: pneumothorax was the reason my lung collapsed and it was fixed by a doctor inasmuch as Bin Laden was “fixed” or eliminated by U.S. soldiers.
