November 19, 2009

  • An Irrational Worry

    I think we all occasionally think about things that could potentially turn our world upside down.  Perhaps it’s the idea of becoming permanently blind or disabled, being a victim of a horrible crime, or maybe being stricken with a life-threatening disease.  While those scenarios have crossed my mind, there is actually something else that causes a constant dread in me that I can’t quite shake off.

    About a year and a half ago, I was on vacation with my family.  My little brother and I had a hotel room to ourselves, so I basically had to babysit him throughout the entire time.  It was very annoying since I couldn’t go anywhere without him tagging along with me.  (Did I mention our vacation was in Las Vegas?  Here’s a tip: don’t go to Las Vegas with your family if you want to have the best experience there.)

    One day, we were returning back to our room after swimming in the hotel’s pool for most of the afternoon.  My little brother was very insistent on taking a shower first, so I grudgingly oblige.  As I’m waiting for him to finish up, I suddenly hear a thud sound, followed by my brother yelling in pain.  I hustled over to the bathroom door and asked if he was alright, to which I hear no answer.  I started to panic, thinking that something really awful just happened, and I began yelling at him to open up the door.

    After what seemed like a long time, he finally opens up holding a small cloth over his forehead.    He was crying and looked like he was in a lot of pain, so I asked him what in the world just took place.  Apparently, he had slipped and hit his head on the shower knob.  When I took the cloth off his forehead to examine the damage, I saw a button-size wound that was bleeding pretty badly.  Luckily, it ended up being mostly a surface cut (although a rather big one), so after I cleaned it up and put on a band-aid he was okay.

    As I look back on this memory, there is one specific part that plays back to me very vividly.  As I assessed his wound to see how serious it was, he looked up at me with the sadest eyes and groaned “Gor Gor…” (“big brother” in Cantonese) in the most woeful, agonizing way possible.  I don’t know why exactly, but hearing that dispair coming out of him tore me up right then and made me think of the worse.  Thankfully, it wasn’t the case that night, but what if things had played out differently?

    Ever since then, I find myself consistently worrying that something awful will happen to my little brother, be it illness, a crime, or an accident, and I would be helpless to do anything for him.  I know I shouldn’t be stressing myself about this too much since it’s really out of my control, but I can’t push that thought out of the back of my head.  I am just afraid that one day, he will look at me with those same sad eyes from that night, call for my help, and all I can do is watch in horror as my little brother fades away.

    Hopefully, that scenario will never become a reality. 

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