In the realm of life-saving measures, seat belt laws implemented in the late 1960s, drunk driving regulations from the late 1970s, and smoking restrictions that began in the mid-1990s have all proven effective in protecting countless lives. Yet, the issue of gun violence remains a persistent challenge.
In October 2006, while traveling overseas, I found myself in a terrifying situation. As I rode in a small van at sunset, a sudden fireball erupted before me, followed by an explosive sound that reverberated in my left ear. It was the loudest noise I had ever experienced, and for a moment, I feared I had permanently lost my hearing. Panic ensued as passengers screamed for everyone to duck, and instinctively, I shrank into my seat, unsure of where the bullets were coming from or how many there were.
The van came to a halt at the side of the road, and frantic voices urged the driver to keep moving. We lurched forward and eventually pulled into a gas station. As people exited, I hesitated, consumed by fear that a gunman was targeting anyone who dared to leave the van. In that moment, I noticed a man in front of me, his body swaying and blood streaming from his forehead in a horrific manner. That haunting image is seared into my memory.
I later learned that a woman sitting next to me pushed me toward the door, a nudge I needed to overcome my paralysis. We both exited, and she immediately began to scream. I focused my energy on comforting her, guiding her away from the van to a safer spot near the gas station. The seconds of silence stretched into minutes, and I slowly realized we were no longer in immediate danger. My new companion informed me that her boyfriend was en route to pick us up and take me to my hotel.
While we waited, I touched the back of my neck and felt something wet. Blood. A wave of realization hit me; I could have been shot but didn’t feel it due to shock. I located a small piece of metal embedded in my skin, hardly larger than a bug, and determined it was not life-threatening. I asked her boyfriend to take me to the hospital instead of my hotel.
When he arrived, I felt immense relief. These strangers had become my lifeline in a foreign country. On the drive to the hospital, a branch snapped under the car, and my friend and I instinctively ducked again. Once at the hospital, I learned that I had two small pieces of shrapnel lodged in my neck. The doctor offered two choices: surgery then or wait until I returned home. I opted for the latter.
After being released, I returned to my hotel and noticed a clump of hair had come out in the shower. I realized the metal must have cut my hair before piercing my skin.
The next day, I flew back home, where my father arranged for the surgery at his hospital. My mother shared stories of Vietnam veterans who had shrapnel that sometimes expelled itself years later, while others lived with it indefinitely. I couldn’t help but reflect on the gravity of my situation.
Twelve days later, I was back at work. While colleagues prepared for a party, a balloon popped, triggering an overwhelming wave of anxiety. I shut the door and let my emotions spill out in sobs. A few weeks later, during Thanksgiving, I could not shake the thought of an empty chair at one family’s table that year. I abruptly left the dinner, overwhelmed by grief.
Despite the trauma, I felt an immense sense of gratitude for what I had. I had access to medical care, a friend to help me, and the ability to call for assistance—privileges not everyone has. Two weeks after the incident, I discovered that the gunman had used a rifle and that, thankfully, he had not used a more lethal weapon. This fact alone likely saved my life and spared my family from an unimaginable loss.
I often ponder what life would have been like for my family and friends had I not survived. Would they have held memorials? Would my absence have left a void too painful to bear? These thoughts are heavy, but they also fill me with gratitude for the life I have now, and the connections I cherish.
I extend my thanks to the politicians in the country where the shooting occurred. Their gun laws, while making it difficult for some to access certain weapons, also spared my loved ones from enduring grief on my behalf.