Part I: The Night of the Attack
Woke up at 8:00 am with sore biceps on my left arm. The powerful mix of fear and adrenaline kept me drifting in and out of consciousness the entire time I was in bed. As soon as I got up, I dictated a message on an iPad to my friend Anna. Despite the fact that I’d spent half of my life in the US, I still had an accent thick enough to send Siri into a cognitive frenzy, autocorrecting with abandon. I asked Anna to get on FaceTime or Skype.
Anna was sitting at her kitchen table, still in her bathrobe and wet hair, drinking coffee. We spoke in Russian. Anna is also from one of the former Soviet republics, and lived in San Francisco at the time. We had met at an International Women meetup years earlier. I told Anna about my night, sparing no detail. She held onto her mug with both hands. She didn’t blink for the longest time.
“When you didn’t respond to my texts last night, I thought you were working — you said you had to prepare for a job interview in the morning, so I thought you turned off notifications,” she said. “Does it hurt?”
“No, not at all, which somewhat worries me. I have to go to another ER later today, at the Highland Hospital in Oakland, to get an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon. I may need surgery.”
“I can’t believe this… You know, I really didn’t feel like going to that talk last night, but since we all planned, I didn’t want to back out,” said Anna.
“That’s so strange, because I thought the same thing. But then ignored the feeling.”
“See, we need to listen to the voice inside,” said Anna.
“But how do you know when to trust that voice? What if it’s just a fear? Or just being too lazy to do something? I don’t know… Where was that voice last night when I got on the wrong train and happily decided to walk home from the Lake Merritt Bart station?”
We let the question hang in the air for a few seconds. We then briefly caught up on Anna’s life.
“Why didn’t you call me last night?” said Anna.
“It was late and I didn’t want to bother anyone. They took good care of me, except for the waiting — lots of waiting between X-rays and check-ins, and forms, and the police. I couldn’t believe how outdated and slow the whole system is!”
Anna skipped work that day and came over. I asked her to stay overnight, because going back to San Francisco at night wouldn’t be safe. The world felt dangerous to me, especially at night.
I made crepes. Because, why not? It was tricky to spread the batter on the skillet quickly. Anna poured the batter as I held the pan with my left hand. I then quickly tilted the pan back and forth to spread the batter around. When the time came to flip a crepe, I held the skillet handle with my right thumb and index finger and used a spatula to flip with my left hand. I was slowly discovering my left hand’s untapped utility.
We spent most of the day drinking coffee, going over the previous night’s events, and philosophizing about life. We talked about the unpredictability of life and how one small decision can quickly change the entire course of one’s life. Around three in the afternoon, as instructed by the doctor at Kaiser, we finally headed over to Highland Hospital.
The emergency room was packed. There were families with kids, young and old, mostly people of color and Hispanic background. No one seemed in agony or in a hurry. I couldn’t quite understand the meaning of ‘emergency.’ If you were not visibly dying, then you put your name on a list and found yourself a seat.
After what felt like eternity, but was probably just a couple of hours — during which I filled out more forms, got another round of X-rays, talked to a social worker, and checked in with a couple of administrators — a physician assistant (PA), a middle-aged white man in scrubs, wearing glasses and holding a clipboard, called my name.
Anna and I quickly walked up to him as he stood in the middle of the waiting room. He began to ask personal questions, right there, in front of everyone, without even making an effort to lower his voice.
“Any chance you are pregnant?”
“No,” I said.
“Any?” He paused, looked up from the clipboard with his left eyebrow raised and repeated, “Any?” He held my gaze a few seconds longer than was necessary and way longer than was comfortable for me.
“No chance,” I said. Anna and I both tried to keep a straight face and avoid bursting out with laughter.
Maybe when you’re dealing with life and death situations, privacy is not a top concern.
Other than that awkward moment, the PA was patient and kind with me. He said they would take good care of me at Highland. After rewrapping my hand, he told me I had an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon on the seventh floor and would need to go back to Kaiser to get my original X-rays.
I still didn’t know how bad the fracture was, but judging by the conversations I overheard at the Kaiser ER and the PA’s facial expression as he examined my hand at Highland — it wasn’t going to be a quick fix.
I didn’t sleep well that night either. At one point I felt sharp pain in my right hand, screamed, and jumped up, waking up Anna.
“If this is how you screamed when they jumped you, then they’re probably more traumatized by the whole thing than you are,” said Anna, who seemed rather annoyed. She brought me a glass of water and said I had to calm down.
“It’s all in your head,” she said.
“I think I did something to my hand that caused a sharp pain,” I said, but didn’t argue after she kept insisting that it was probably a dream.
Also, fuck those kids. I don’t care if they are traumatized.
Unable to fall back asleep, I returned to my to-do list, mentally crossing over the “ER visit” and adding new items. I fell asleep before I could finish it.
- Order a new debit card and credit cards.
- Buy iPhone 7, or the cheapest one, at T-Mobile. This time I’ll get it in rose gold. I hope they accept personal checks. Need to remember to take my passport with me.
- Get cash at the bank. Oh nice, T-Mobile and Chase are next to each other!
- Pick up X-rays from Kaiser. Need to call them tomorrow, so I can get the CD before Tuesday.
- Buy painkillers. Strange, the pain is almost gone. What did I do to it earlier? It really hurt. But why don’t I have more pain? Is my finger slowly dying? I’ll look creepy with my right ring finger missing.
- Should probably buy some food. Need to eat healthy, more fruit and veggies…
Moments in Words 