Field Notes · No. 002
The Courage
to Be Seen
Well, week two certainly had some adventure. I decided to take a trip to Budapest, Hungary to meet with my sister. She was on a school trip. The appeal was twofold: she would be close to me and she was traveling with some of my former high school teachers. Seeing my sophomore history teachers in Europe after graduating 17 years ago was the ideal version of a reunion for me–keeping my forgotten peers out of the picture. During this trip I had an incident.
There’s been an awful heatwave spanning Europe and I’ve been slowly adjusting to the lack of air conditioning in this new environment. Had I known this, maybe a fall move would have been a better choice.
I was determined to complete my book, enjoy Spritzes, food, and explore the city. I was finding joy and peace existing. One particular day I sat outside, the breeze offering an inviting coolness and promise that my temperature would regulate and bring respite from the heat of the city. I fetched some water and continued reading.
Quickly, I felt flushed and a spell of dizziness overtook my body in a split second. I placed the book down, rested my head in my hands, and felt stillness wash over me. Everything was quiet and calm. I started to hear voices and peeled my eyes open, awakening to confusion. Why was my environment suddenly horizontal? Why was someone touching me? Pinching me? Why does my face sting? Everything all at once.
I must have passed out. I thought my eyes were closed for ten seconds. What happened?
I’m told I fell over hitting my head on a table then onto the sidewalk. I lay on the ground, head bleeding, my lip burst open, growing by the second and blood pooling into my mouth. All I could do…all I wanted to do was return to the peace from which I arose. This was past embarrassment. There were people around me, I had no control. I tried my best to answer their questions through the lethargy, which was the toughest part. I could hear but my body was unable to function. As EMS arrived and loaded me into the ambulance, I could only comply with the situation. Nonresistant.
No insurance. In a country with a challenging language barrier. There was no resistance. I feebly asked for my phone, dialing Szendi and begging the air for her to answer. I met Szendi in 2018 when I joined a one-year MBA program and she has saved me a time or two before. She is Hungarian. She answered, translating everything for me.
As the doctor was stitching me up, I remember crying. The feeling was pain, the tears were gratitude. I knew I would be fine. Szendi sent her cousin, Ildi, to my aid. Within hours tests were run and I was stitched up and ready to return to my hotel.
The following day I was willing to starve rather than go out in public with the state of my face. I was worried about my face; would it be ruined? Scarred? Repairable? My face makes me socially comfortable. I quivered at the thought of people making a judgement of me when it was simply an accident. Would people think I’m homeless or on drugs? I questioned: why would that matter? Why had I internalized either possibility as something shameful? I had to discipline my own spirit. All people are perfect in God’s image.
So I mustered the courage to go out. The rest of the week, asking for ice to fill my small waste bag, my hair pulled back, wounds visible, I continued to discover the rest of what Budapest had to offer. Yes, stares continued, but more people asked questions. I wanted people to ask what happened so they could know the truth instead of creating one.
By the end of it, I had made two new friends. Lilly, a waitress who desires to be an actress, served me with warmth and patience. The second, Charlotte, was visiting from London and now we chat and exchange tips and ideas. I learned some history, ate great food, and experienced the loving-kindness of others. I was happy to be accepted beyond my physical state. While uncomfortable, going in public required courage. In that week, I lived a level of confidence my pristine face never afforded me.