Untold Stories

After finishing my workout at the Gold’s Gym in Scottsdale I drove home, still experiencing the endorphins spreading through my body. It was one of the three hundred days of sunshine Arizona encounters a year. As I neared my home I noticed several cop cars driving in the other directions, it was a little bit out of the ordinary, however not enough to raise any suspicion. When I turned at my light I noticed our local NBC, CBS, and ABC news station, as well as a helicopter leaving the area. At this point my only thoughts are confusion and curiosity. Once I pulled into my cul-de-sac I saw dozens of police cars, two ambulances, and a fire truck. This is a nice neighborhood, this isn’t supposed to be happening here, at least that was my first thought. Then I noticed crime scene tape surrounding my house. My garage door was open, there were two police officers inside. Still, my mind couldn’t comprehend what it was seeing; I was trying to make sense of something that made no sense. The police officer stopped me, and asked who I was, I told him I lived in that house. He nodded his head, and lifted the crime scene tape to let my car through. With the fear of hearing his answer, I asked, did something happen at my house. He said no. I could finally breathe. However I was still confused why there were cops in my garage, and crime scene tape on the outside of my house. Once I pulled closer to my garage I saw several strangers sitting in folding chairs. A detective approached me and said, “Hello, I think I spoke to your wife already inside…” to which I immediately interrupted, “That’s gross, that’s my mom”. He then explained there was a hostage situation with one of my neighbors, and they were using my house as an evacuation site for the rest. The neighbor apparently had an medical condition and threatened to throw his daughter off a balcony, and once the he was convinced to set her down, he was shot and air lifted to a hospital. Just the sight of dozens of cops and crime scene tape around my house without knowing the situation was enough to give me the biggest scare of my life. Just the idea of something happening to my family so unexpectedly gave helplessness a whole new level.

The only person more stubborn than me, is my brother. So when he is says he is ok, he convinces himself he is ok. Midway through med school my brother had began to experience some pain in his neck, and he immediately dismissed it. Ironically, he was becoming a doctor so he should have known better. However the difficulty and competitiveness of med school discouraged to miss his classes to address this issue until he had no choice. The pain in his neck had begun to grow in a lump, and then a bigger a lump, and then a bigger lump. While in an elevator at Midwestern Medical school my brother collapsed and was sent to a hospital. There the doctors said he had a growth in his thyroid and it needed to be removed immediately through surgery. It was a relatively safe surgery, however there was about a five percent chance my brother would loose his voice, resulting in the end of his dreams of becoming a surgeon. Thankfully the surgery was a success, and he was out of the hospital in a couple days and back inside his medical books. Although the doctor said it was just a growth, my brother still insisted to have a biopsy. About a week later my brother came up to me and told me they found cancer inside the growth and they would have to flush his body with radiation. He sounded so incredibly calm and worriless that his demeanor was enough to diminish my nerves. Three years later my brother is fine, with by far the cutest two year old son you will ever see and another on the way. He is currently surgery resident at Maryland University in Baltimore.

Growing up I had to deal with a lot of arguing between both my parents. In fact those are the only memories I have when I think of us as a family. I’d really don’t think it bothered me growing up because I was so used to it. There were times were 911 was called, but no one was arrested. However this is one specific moment growing up that will never leave my memories. I was eight years old and my mother was reading a book to me in my room. My parents were having another on going argument at the time. Mid way through the story my father walked in holding an eight inch butcher knife. My mom didn’t budge, either did I. I was only eight I had no idea what was going on, and really didn’t react at all. He grabbed my moms hand and then took the flat sides of knife and rubbed each side on the top her hand. I can’t remember what he said, but I know my mom didn’t say anything. He then left, and my mom finished the story. I don’t know what happened after, I don’t think anything did. My parents are still married today and the arguing is no where near what it used to be. It seems an argument breaks out biannually, one threatens to leave the country, then other says go ahead. Two days pass, cooler heads prevail and things are fine. I respect neither of my parents because I think they are both childish and frankly deserve each other. All I know is my marriage will be nothing like theirs.