It was a random day in the summer of 2012 in Bangladesh. I and my brother were having a little bit of fun in the living room, unaware of the nightmare that would ensue shortly afterward. I enjoyed playing with the couch cushions to build a "floor is lava" situation. This wasn't very popular with the rest of the people in the house, but I didn't really care because I was like 10 years old and not very mature. But for my family in this house, the biggest problem would come in a short while, they heard a loud screen and encountered a scene that would end up in stitches and a nightmare of a day.
What happened you ask? Well, this 10-year-old kid decided that when his brother simply walked behind him, he got scared and ran forward, right onto the corner of a wall. There was instantly pain, and bleeding soon began. Immediately, my mom heard the screaming and was on the scene. There were a lot of people at the house back then, my mom, my brother, and my grandma, as well as people that worked at the house. Upon the occurrence of this incident, my mom quickly realized that my bleeding wasn't stopping, so she rushed to find a band-aid.
But that's where my mom discovered a problem...there were no band-aids with her or anywhere in the house. Out of options and realizing that the bleeding was not stopping, she decided to take me to the hospital. So, my mom, one person our family employed to take care of the house (We'll call him Alan), and the driver all hopped into the car with me and began driving to the hospital. The thing with our family is that the driver and Alan were very close to us, they had been working for us for a long time, which is common in Bangladesh. So Alan was holding an ice pack covered in a tissue, to stop the bleeding. Meanwhile, my mom was talking to our driver.
Now our driver was good of course, he knew the fastest ways to get to the hospital. But the problem was that the roads in Bangladesh, especially Dhaka are extremely crowded with cars. Being the 8th most populous country in the world, the traffic wasn't convenient. It also probably didn't help that through all this pain and chaos I was still causing mischief and being annoying. After a long time waiting in traffic and dealing with my crying, we finally arrived at the hospital's emergency room.
We immediately told them what was happening and they placed me in a bed. The doctors and nurses quickly assembled around me and determined I needed stitches in my forehead. Luckily there was no concussion (which I would experience a few years later which was also not a fun experience). After that painful situation, we finally were able to resolve the incident and head home.
The doctors also instructed us to change the bandage regularly and come back after some time to get the stitches removed. So that's what we did and a few weeks or so later, the stitches were removed. But it still left a huge memory for our family and was definitely not a fun experience for any of the parties involved. Most of all? The stitches had left a scar on my forehead similar to Harry Potter's mark, which was funny. All in all this incident was definitely funny and something we are able to laugh about years later.
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