In Search of a Ray of Hope

Chapter 4

As soon as I heard Papa's trembling voice and his urgent plea to come to the hospital, a wave of panic washed over me.

 I couldn't believe how my body trembled as I got off the jeep. It felt like I couldn't even walk, but I knew I had to get to the hospital immediately. I wondered if Mama knew what happened. Did she already get the news?

While waiting for another jeep to arrive, I tried calling Mama, but her line was busy. I had a feeling she already knew. Unable to wait for the next jeep, I decided to book a Grab to get to the hospital faster. Our house and the hospital where Papa was were on different routes, so I waited on the other side of the road.

Standing there, anxiously waiting for my Grab, I felt so restless. Why did emergencies always seem to drag on like this?

Finally, the Grab arrived. "Manong, sa hospital. Pakibilisan na lang po," I urged him as I got in. Normally, Grab drivers would strike up conversations with me during rides to keep passengers entertained. But today, I couldn't focus on anything Manong was saying. I just needed to get to the hospital as fast as possible. 

Upon reaching the hospital, I immediately searched for Papa. There he was, getting his hand stitched up. My heart sank. What happened?

I rushed to Mama, who was standing nearby. "Ma, what happened?" I asked, my voice filled with concern.

"It was a motorcycle accident," Mama replied solemnly. 

I felt relief that it wasn't something more severe, but also worry about Papa's injuries. 

"Good thing it was just a self-accident and no one or he didn't bump with another vehicle," I thought to myself, feeling grateful that the situation wasn't worse.

As we stood there in the hospital, waiting for updates on Papa's condition, my mind raced with questions. How severe were his injuries? Would he need surgery or extensive treatment? I couldn't help but replay the events in my mind, trying to piece together how the accident had occurred and how fortunate it was that Papa hadn't collided with another vehicle.

Despite the initial relief that it wasn't a more serious accident, I couldn't shake off the worry and anxiety. The sight of Papa getting his hand stitched up was a stark reminder of the fragility of life and how quickly things can change. I silently prayed for his swift recovery, hoping that he would be back on his feet soon.

Papa's motorcycle accident wasn't the first time such an incident had happened. Just two years ago, he had been in another accident while riding his motorcycle. That memory loomed large in my mind every time he got on his motorcycle.  The previous accident had been a terrifying experience for our family. Papa had sustained injuries that took weeks to heal, and it was a stressful time for all of us. Since then, every time he mentioned going for a ride, a knot of worry would form in my stomach. I couldn't shake off the fear that history might repeat itself. Motorcycle accidents can be so unpredictable, and even the most experienced riders can find themselves in dangerous situations. It was a constant source of anxiety for me, knowing that Papa's love for riding came with inherent risks. Despite my concerns, I also understood that riding his motorcycle brought Papa joy and freedom. It was his way of unwinding and experiencing a sense of adventure. I respected his passion but couldn't help but worry about his safety each time he revved up his bike. The accident had taught us all a valuable lesson about the importance of caution and safety measures while on the road. We emphasized the need for Papa to wear protective gear, follow traffic rules diligently, and stay alert at all times. Still, the fear lingered, a nagging worry that I couldn't shake off easily.