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have seen many pictures of my childhood. I was a very sad growing up and my memories from those days are very few. I do remember one day however, my parents dropped me off at a new school near my house. My parents said that my older brother was already at his own school, but I wanted to be there with him. The teachers gathered us together in a big, blue room; with people and children I didn’t know. I felt I had been separated from my brother deliberately and that my parents had abandoned me – I didn’t understand. I spent all morning crying until my father picked me up and took me home. When I got home my brother was there and I was so happy to see him again – it was a relief to have him close again. My mother told my father that she thought it would be best if attended the same school. Sure enough, the next day we both went together. It’s strange, but I don’t have many memories about that school. I know it was very close to a big sports hall, it had a big black board and a large room that was very cold and had floor tiles like in an old farmhouse. They sat us down with a girl - it made me feel a little uncomfortable… I didn’t know anything about girls at that age. I remember they asked us about our families.


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Another memory comes to mind. I was in my grandmother’s room and it was very cold. My grandmother used to spoiled me - like only she knew how. I remember I started to shiver because I so cold. My grandmother couldn’t get me warmed up no matter what she tried – frightened she called my parents. When my parents arrived the thermometer read 42 degrees. I started to convulse. My mother felt helpless, but still she managed to grab me by the legs and my grandfather by my shoulders – they tried to stop me from shaking, but couldn’t. I was like that for over half an hour until finally I was injected with something and washed with warm water and alcohol – the fever went down. According to the doctors, a temperature that high could potentially have caused brain damage.


As I grew, so did my stomach – larger and larger. I would always wet my pants as a child – I couldn’t control it. My father used to punish me for it (he didn’t realize that it was because I was sick). But, my memories are very vague of those times; thank god, because I’m sure I must have suffered a lot… my memories from those years are now like ashes… ashes that will never take form again… in the end, we are what we’ve lived and “what would life be like if we didn’t have memories?”


Como a muchos niños me tienen que operar de las amígdalas, dos intentos y siempre tenía fiebre, era nervioso, al fin me llevan al quirófano, conozco ese sitio tan frío y silencioso, con el que debía familiarizarme. Aún no sabían cuál era mi verdadero estado de salud; primero, encuentro una lámpara que parecía un monstruo; la enfermera le contaba a otra sobre la novela de moda; yo temblaba de miedo, parecía que allí no había amor. Llegó el anestesiólogo, amigo de mis padres y me explico cómo serían las cosas, comencé a sentir que me iba muy lejos… cuando desperté estaba mi madre al lado y me dio un helado de vainilla.
Allí comienzo a tener conocimiento de mi camino por el dolor físico, que es un horno donde se cocina el alma, entendemos nuestra impotencia y cuán soberbios somos.


Like many children, I had to have my tonsils taken out at an early age. It took two attempts and both times I was running a fever. I remember being very nervous and being taken into the operating room. I immediately recognized the cold and silent place because I had become accustomed to the hospital by this time. Even after so many visits, the doctors were not sure what my true state of health was – okay to operate or not. Nevertheless, they decided to move forward with the operation. Once in the operating room, the first thing I saw was a lamp shaped like a monster; The nurses were chatting away about a popular soap opera; and I trembled with fear, it seemed as if love was no where to be found. The anesthetist, who was a friend of the family, arrived and explained to me what the process would be. I started to feel very distant… and when I woke up my mother was by my side. She gave me vanilla ice cream.
It’s at this point, that I start to have an awareness of the journey through physical pain that I was in store for – it was like an oven that had begun to cook my soul; it’s times like these when we begin to understand our helplessness in life and how stubborn we can be at times.


At eight years old my condition was the same – high fevers and an uncontrollable bladder. My father asked the radiologist (also a family friend) for a second opinion. They took me to a dark room in the clinic and put me in front of an ancient x-ray machine. The results came back confusing, they didn’t show my kidneys. One of the nurses told my father it looked as if I didn’t have any. He got angry, dressed me and we left. >>





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