In recent decades, laws regarding seat belts, drunk driving, and smoking restrictions have undoubtedly saved countless lives. Yet, the issue of gun violence remains a pervasive challenge that society continues to grapple with.
In October 2006, while traveling abroad, I found myself in a terrifying situation that would stay with me forever. On a picturesque evening, I boarded a small van for a brief ride home. About twenty minutes into the journey, a sudden fireball exploded in front of me, followed by an ear-splitting blast that left my left ear ringing. The sheer violence of the sound made me fear I might never hear again. Panic erupted as passengers screamed for everyone to duck. I instinctively huddled down, uncertain of how many bullets were flying or where they originated. With each passing moment, I thought, “I don’t think I’ve been shot. Okay, still not shot.”
The driver managed to pull the van to a stop, and amidst the chaos, people urged him to keep moving. Finally, we reached a gas station where the passengers began to exit. I hesitated, gripped by uncertainty, contemplating whether jumping out would put me in further danger. In that moment, I noticed a man in front of me leaning forward, blood streaming from his forehead. That haunting image remains etched in my mind.
I later learned that a woman beside me had pushed me toward the exit. Her intervention helped me make the decision to escape. As we exited, she broke down in tears, and I instinctively focused on helping her. I guided her away from the van, still alert, as the seconds stretched into minutes without gunfire. My new companion informed me that her boyfriend would pick us up and take me to my hotel.
While we waited, I absentmindedly touched my neck and felt something wet—blood. Instinctively, I checked my fingers, realizing I could have been shot but was in shock. I felt around and discovered a small piece of metal embedded in my skin. Knowing it wasn’t life-threatening, I asked if her boyfriend could take me to the hospital instead of my hotel.
When he finally arrived, they became my lifeline in a foreign country. On the way to the hospital, our car hit a branch, causing us to flinch together—an instinctive reaction to trauma. Upon arriving, I met my friend who had rushed to see me. I mentioned I thought someone might have died; advice from her was gentle: “Don’t think about that right now.” Later, I learned that a single person had been killed, but I didn’t know if it was the man I had seen or someone else.
At the hospital, an X-ray revealed two small pieces of shrapnel in my neck. I opted to have them removed back home rather than undergo immediate surgery. After being discharged, as I showered, I noticed a chunk of hair had come out. I realized then that the metal must have snagged my hair before embedding itself in my skin.
The next day, I boarded my flight home. My father, who worked at a hospital, arranged for my surgery. My mother shared stories of Vietnam veterans who had shrapnel that sometimes expelled on its own. It was a surreal comparison, and I couldn’t help but wonder how different my life would be had I not survived.
Twelve days post-incident, I returned to work. While colleagues prepared for a celebration, a balloon popped, triggering an overwhelming panic that led me to lock myself in a room to cry. Three weeks later, during Thanksgiving with my family, the empty chair for one family weighed heavily on my mind. I abruptly left the table to sob uncontrollably in the basement, releasing the pent-up trauma.
Despite the chaos, I recognized my fortune. I had access to medical care, a friend to help, and health insurance. The most astonishing realization came two weeks later: the shooter had used a rifle, which limited the carnage he could inflict. Unlike countries with looser gun laws, the restrictions in that country likely saved many lives, including my own.
I often contemplate what my family’s lives would have looked like had I not survived. Would they have created memorials for me? How would they have coped with my absence? The thought of my niece and nephews growing up without knowing the love I could have offered is unbearable. Friends would have missed out on the support and joy we’ve shared.
So, to the lawmakers in that country: while you may restrict access to semi-automatic weapons and high-capacity magazines, you’ve inadvertently spared my family from unimaginable grief. I believe you made the right choice.
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Summary
The author recounts a harrowing experience of surviving gun violence while traveling abroad. Reflecting on the trauma and the luck that saved her life, she emphasizes the importance of gun control measures that prevent mass casualties. Through her story, she highlights the impact of loss on loved ones and the profound gratitude she feels for the support systems in her life.