“What is going to happen?” I had wondered to myself.

I was 4-years old and I was going to the hospital operating room. They told me that the doctors were going to take a look at something inside my leg. I was trying my best to put my bravest face on. My parents had assured me that I’ll be asleep while the doctors did their work and everything will be alright when I woke up. Dr. Imamura, my Filipino-Japanese pediatrician, came by my hospital bed and gave me a die-cast miniature bus from Matchbox. That took my mind off worrying a bit. Matchboxes were my favorite toys at the time and the bus would be a great addition to my collection. Dr. Imamura smiled at me and told me to be brave like I’ve always had been whenever she gave me those vaccination shots. She was always so nice and somehow always managed to make me feel safe.

My favorite nurse came in. I can’t remember her name anymore. I tried not to notice the big syringe she held in her hand. Okay, maybe it was a really small one. But for a 4-year-old, every syringe always seems bigger. Anyway, like I said, she was my favorite nurse, so I had to make an impression. I smiled my cutest smile for her. It was time she said. I laid down on my tummy and as I felt her stick the needle in my butt cheek, I tried my best to hold back the tears. I quickly brushed them away with my fingers before anyone else in the room noticed.

A couple of minutes later a couple of guys with a rolling bed — a gurney as I later found out it was called — arrived. But then, I felt that my eyes were getting heavier and heavier. Before I knew it, I was out like a light.