The Fish Saved His Head and Later Provided a Meal

I'm going to share a personal story (with some humor thrown in), at the suggestion of a good friend of mine.  Growing up overseas in third world countries probably made my Mom become a nurse out of necessity, rather than by choice.  I believe I was seven years old and my Brother was three, and we were living in Yemen at the time. We did not have a television, so had to rely on other forms of activities for entertainment. 

One particular evening, we were playing the game spoons.  My Brother slipped and hit his head, cutting it open on the door hinge that had been left in place where there was no door.  As head wounds bleed a lot, he was quite a frightening sight to behold. My Parents quickly went into action mode, my Mother yelling for my Dad to grab some ice to place on the wound.  He ran to the freezer and yelled back that there was no ice.  My Mom then told him to just grab anything cold, probably thinking a bag of frozen peas would do.  He came back with a frozen fish and slapped it on my Brother's head and off they went to the hospital.

Getting to the hospital was a story all by itself, as hardly anyone owned cars at that time and many roads were not even paved.  People got around mainly by donkeys and on motorcycles.  My Dad owned a Yamaha and would drive, while my Mom would sit in the back and sandwich all three of us kids in between them. She would have rocks ready to throw to ward off the wild dogs that would roam the streets and chase the motorcycle.  It was definitely an adventure just leaving the house.  Needless to say, trying to transport a bloody kid to the hospital on a motorcycle was not the best solution, so they finally got a hold of a friend who did own a van.  Upon arriving at the so called hospital, there were more animals running around than people.  After herding some of the goats and other such animals out, someone came to attend to my Brother and almost fainted taking one look at his head.  The fish had thawed out by this time and it was all matted into his hair and it dawned on my Mom that the Doctor thought the fish was my Brother's brains.  Quickly reassuring him that it was not, my Mom removed the fish and placed it in a nearby sink.  The Doctor then stuck a long rusty needle into my Brother's head and walked off for awhile, only to later come back and admit  that he did not know how to stitch it up and sent my Parents off to the Red Chinese Cross Hospital.  They passed the sink on the way out, where the fish had disappeared.  Apparently, some poor soul had stolen it for his dinner.

I guess the moral of the story is, creativity in a crisis is a gift, and no matter how stressful things can get, it's nice when you can look back later and laugh instead of cry.  Of course, not all stories turn out funny or good in the end, so when it does, you have to count your blessings and be grateful you survived. My Mother certainly has this gift and we have many more stories in our family history of travels of where this one came from.  My Mother has been encouraged for years, by friends and family to compile all these happenings in a book, which she is currently working on.  I can't wait for it to be published, so that I can take a trip down memory lane and have some good chuckles.