In the late 1960s, seat belt laws began saving lives. The late 1970s saw a significant drop in fatalities due to drunk driving regulations, and smoking restrictions from the mid-1990s have also contributed to public safety. Yet, when it comes to gun violence, we still struggle to find effective solutions.
In October 2006, I found myself in a foreign country, taking a small van ride home as the sun set. Suddenly, a fireball burst in front of me, and a deafening blast erupted in my left ear — the loudest sound I had ever encountered. Panic ensued as people screamed for us to duck. As bullets flew, I instinctively shrank down, grappling with the uncertainty of whether or not I had been hit. “I think I’m okay,” I repeated to myself, hoping to stave off the fear.
As the van came to a halt, chaos erupted. I hesitated, contemplating the danger outside — could a gunman be targeting us as we exited? I caught a glimpse of a man in front of me, blood streaming from his head, an image that remains etched in my mind. I later learned that a woman seated next to me pushed me toward the door, breaking my paralysis of indecision.
We both exited, and she quickly succumbed to panic. I focused on calming her, guiding her away from the van to safety. As we waited, I touched the back of my neck and felt blood. In shock, I discovered shrapnel embedded in my skin, prompting me to request a hospital visit instead of returning to my hotel.
When her boyfriend arrived, they became my lifeline in a city where I had only one friend waiting 30 minutes away. As we drove, even the sound of a branch snapping made us flinch, a testament to our heightened state of alert. At the hospital, I confided in my friend about the possibility that someone had died during the shooting. She wisely advised me to focus on the present.
The X-ray revealed two small pieces of shrapnel lodged in my neck. I opted to have them removed back home rather than undergo immediate surgery. Upon returning, I noticed a small patch of hair had come loose, likely due to the injury.
Twelve days later, I was back at work when a balloon popped during a celebration. Overwhelmed by the sound, I locked myself away to cry. It took weeks to process the trauma, and during a Thanksgiving dinner, the weight of an empty chair for another family hit me hard. I had to step away to let my emotions flow, realizing that my trauma was still very much alive.
Miraculously, I was fortunate. I had access to a hospital, a ride, supportive friends, and health insurance. Two weeks after the incident, I learned that the gunman used a rifle and only killed one person. The absence of automatic weapons and high-capacity magazines in that country likely saved my life.
I often reflect on how different my family’s life would be had I not survived. Would they have held memorials for me? Would my absence have altered their paths? I think of the friendships and love I share, and the void my absence would create. Without me, who would have read at my friends’ weddings or offered support during tough times?
To the politicians in that country, your strict gun laws may inconvenience those wishing to own semi-automatic firearms, but they have also spared my loved ones from enduring unimaginable pain. I believe you made the right choices.
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In summary, my experience with gun violence serves as a reminder of the fragility of life and the importance of gun safety laws. I am grateful for the support and resources that helped me recover, and I hope to continue sharing my story to raise awareness and promote healing.
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