Almost doesn’t count

This afternoon, as I was walking home, I heard someone call my name. I thought it was just my imagination but I turned to the sound nonetheless and was surprised to see O, my friend’s sister. I walked back to the main road then felt and heard something zip by my right ear. Then something hit the lower part of my leg, close to the joint connecting leg and foot. A metallic thud hit the ground.

When I looked at it, I saw that it was an axe-blade, rusty but still sharp-looking, about 6 inches long.

Running on autopilot, I walked towards O and managed to engaged in small banter. In the corner of my eye I saw a construction worker emerge from the site and walk toward the alley where I just came from. When O left, I saw that construction guy was clearly looking for something. But before I got close he found the errant axe-blade and scurried back to the construction site. When I looked up, I saw a face peering down. I wagged my forefinger at him, a bunch of cuss-words in three languages (in English, Filipino, and Khmer) welling up in my throat. I also saw that there was no protective net on the side of this 4-storey building.

When I got home, I was shaking. For all my seeming non-chalance when talking about death and dying, I realized how scary it feels to have a close brush with death. I was lucky that the blade missed my head by a few inches. I certainly didn’t want another hole in my head! My leg throbbed a little, but I wasn’t complaining. I mean, I could have lost an ear! This feeling is close to the one I felt in our near mishap in Sihanoukville barely two weeks ago. This was just more intense because it happened to me.

I couldn’t imagine what would have happened to me if things turned out differently. I hadn’t renewed my health insurance because I lent the money to a friend, who hasn’t paid me back. This added another layer to my already thickening apprehension.

I wanted to write about the meeting that I attended but found myself unable to focus. I felt tired, and not just because of the 8-hour meeting, I think. When M asked me if I wanted to have coffee later, I told her I’m not sure because of the way I was feeling. But as we went into a conference over at Yahoo Messenger, I found myself typing crazy funny things like crazy. And soon after I was laughing as well.

I realized I couldn’t stay home, so I met M, D, and Y for coffee. Before leaving, I told my landlord what happened and asked him to talk to the owner of the building. He promised to do so. I said I didn’t want any apology; what is more important is they put a protective net on that side of the building to prevent other accidents caused by the ineptitude of the workers or equipment failure or whatever. I guess I’ll know the result of this conversation tomorrow.

In the coffee shop, I allowed myself to laugh along with tales my friends and I told each other. That is, until I went back home. And tried to make sense of it by writing this.