November 2018 Student Spotlight: Eddie (Ahn) Dang
Eddie (Ahn) Dang is an immigrant from Vietnam. He has been in the United States for 18 months. He hopes to pursue a career in graphic design and plans to transfer to complete a bachelor’s degree after completing his studies at MCC. Although he is quiet, he has much to say through his writing.
The Old Man in the Hospital
The cold breeze blew right through my sweater. What was the motivation that made me go out that night? Food. There’s nothing more ideal than a bao to eat during a winter night. Ground pork and boiled eggs wrapped in dough and heated by a steam pot and only costs you 25 cents to buy. I was holding two of them in my hand, one for me, and one for my grandpa who was waiting for me in the hospital nearby.
On my way to his room, the hallway had as much personality as the rest of the hospital. The floor was simply gray, and the walls were white. There was no decoration on the wall at all. The light was too bright for my eyes after I spent 20 minutes outside. Suddenly, I remembered the flowers I brought in that morning. They were worth it; grandpa needed some color in here. I came back to the room and noticed that there was another person in the room. The new patient was an old man who was approximately the same age as my grandpa. He lay there on the bed motionless with closed eyes.
I walked slowly to my grandpa and handed the bao to him. Then, I opened my plastic bag to eat mine. But, the image of that old man flashed in my mind. I stopped. I turned my head and looked at him. He was still lying there, but this time I noticed that he was alone. Then I looked back at my grandpa. He seemed to understand what I was going to say. He nodded his head and smiled. I stood up, held the bao in my hand, and walked toward the other bed where the lonely man was lying. “Excuse me, sir.” I whispered in case he was sleeping. He turned back and looked at me with his lidded eyes as if he was still sleeping.
“What could I do for you, little boy?” he asked me with his low, warm voice. At that moment when I heard his voice, I felt like he had been through a lot. There was a sad feeling when he spoke.
I showed him the bao: “Do you want to have it? It’s warm.”
He looked at me deeply, and he smiled. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” He reached out and grabbed it. Then, he carefully unwrapped the plastic bag. He took small bites. He seemed to enjoy his meal. “It’s the best bao I’ve ever eaten,” the old man mumbled while he was chewing.
I don’t know if he said that because of his hunger, my kindness, or he simply liked this bao.
The silence conquered the room until my grandpa broke the ice. “If I may ask, why are you here, sir?”
The old man replied, “Please call me Minh. I cut my hand when I was cooking.”
“Minh. Where is your family?” my grandpa asked.
Minh, the old man, stared at the windows. He was about to cry, but he didn’t. It might be because of our culture in which man is not supposed to cry. Minh had to suppress his emotion. I wished he could cry. “They left,” suddenly he said. He continued, “I have a disease which causes memory loss. My son, he… he can’t bear it.”
I was angry. “It was very ungrateful of him. He had to stay with you, you are his father.”
Minh said, “It was not his fault. I told him to.”
Then he lay down, and turned his back to us. His shoulders were shaking. “I love my family. My wife was gone so early that I had to raise my son alone. We’re all that each other has. My daughter-in-law, my grandchildren, I love them all. Then, this goddamn sickness got me. It makes me forget their names. I’m tongue-tied when I try to talk to them. They still love me. But do you know how bad it feels when you know the person talking to you is your family and you can’t even remember their name?” His voice was soft, almost fragile as if it and his heart would break any minute. Perhaps his heart was already broken. Then, a long silence filled the room. I thought about my grandpa. What if something like that happened to him? What if that disease got someone I know? How could I bear it when my grandpa asks me who I am?
But, that is an old-age sickness. We can’t run away from it. At that time, as a twelve-year-old boy, I was always thinking about how to be a great man. I wanted to be better than other people, I wanted to be famous, I wanted to be rich, and I wanted to be great. There was nothing wrong with that, but I had never thought about a normal happy life with my family. Since that night, the older I am, the more I become aware of the fact that my family will not be by my side forever. I see how slowly my grandpa walks, how my dad must use his glasses to read, and how my mother’s head has gray hair. After this rain of thought, I fell asleep.
My grandpa woke me up when the early rays of the morning shone through the window. Minh, the old man, was still sleeping. My grandpa told me it was time to leave. I felt sorry for the old man. Placing the vase of flowers, which I gave my grandpa yesterday, on his counter was all I could do for him. My grandpa and I looked for the receptionist to do the discharge papers. We had to wait because the receptionist was talking to a man. That man leaned his elbows on the counter, asked something, and then ran away. “Someone’s in rush, huh?” my grandpa talked to the receptionist.
“Oh yes. He’s looking for his father, who has a problem with memory. I would do the same if I was him,” the receptionist replied.
Grandpa and I looked at each other and smiled.
ESOL Voices is a collection of stories written by ESOL students at Monroe Community College. This publication highlights our MCC students who come from all over the world. Look for a new story each month. We hope you enjoy our students’ stories as much as we do.
— Katie Leite & Pamela Fornieri, ESOL Program, November 2018