Page 8 of Teddy Bear

I remember the horrible burning pain and excruciating stomach cramps every time I tried to pee.

I also remember going to the doctor, horrible, hostile people dressed in hideous white coats who, despite all my efforts, just shook their heads cheerfully, reassuring my mother, who was terribly worried about my fragile, childish health.

It was one of the stronger bacterial infections that happens to every child at some point, and there was no reason to worry.

According to reputable doctors, all it took was a few shots of antibiotics, and within a week I would be as good as new.

My mother smiled, a sharp contrast to my sullen, terrified, and defiant face.

I had never received injections until then.

What happened that day is so well etched in my brain that even now I can vividly see those images before my eyes. What happened that day, in a way, shaped my life into what it is now.

I remember my inconsolable crying, screaming, and thrashing as the caring nurses tried unsuccessfully to get me to lie down on the orange hospital bed covered with a white, sterile sheet.

I remember the horrible smell of alcohol and hospital disinfectants that completely detracted from the singing pictures of the animal kingdom and Disney princesses all over the walls.

This is a trap, this is a scam.

I remember thinking that, very well, immune to romantic princesses and cartoon friends who failed to win me over, I knew without fail that they were about to do something bad to me, or at the very least, something painful.

I remember being firmly convinced that I would never let them come near me with that hideous needle that crouched ominously like the extension of a plastic medical syringe full of liquid medicinal substance. I could clearly see when they were preparing it, and I knew very well that it was meant for me.

I also remember the desperate and embarrassed look of my mother, who was not able to restrain her four-year-old daughter and make her calm down and take the medicine, until my dad appeared at the door.

I remember his unbuttoned gray suit and loosened tie clearly showing how much he was in a hurry to get here. He probably got off work and was rushing to get to the hospital as soon as possible.

I remember his tousled blond hair that fell over his forehead, covered in tiny drops of sweat, and his breathy but completely serious voice that was impossible to say no to.

-Lizzie, if you put up with this and stay completely calm, I will buy you the most beautiful and biggest teddy bear in the world.

I blinked my eyes in confusion and looked at him in disbelief.

I must have tormented my feeble, childish brain for five full minutes in order to get the final solution and answer to this terrible puzzle of loyalty and fear clashing in my trembling, mistrustful heart.

Something about him made it just impossible to reject.

My father was an extremely striking and charming man who, just by his appearance, made it possible for you to instantly trust him and cede control over your life - I guess that was the reason why he made a fortune trading life insurance.

In that cramped hospital room full of fake Disney princesses and sneaky toys, with the clear intention of torturing children like me, I fought the most horrific battle in the world.

On one side was abject fear and an unreserved desire to avoid pain, and on the other was unquestionable love and devotion to my father, and the magical promise of the biggest and most beautiful teddy bear that ever existed.

The choice was obvious.

I looked into my father's yellow-brown eyes again, looking for some more encouragement before I decided to put my limits to the test.

-You promise?

I asked timidly in my uncertain, childish voice.

There was something in his voice that made me feel absolutely safe and secure. I have never felt anything like that in my life. If my father had told me to jump into the fire, at that time, I would certainly and without question have done so.

- I promise Lizzie, you will get the biggest and most beautiful teddy bear.

Without a word, convinced and ready, I nodded my head and obediently lay down on the hospital bed. I let the nurses prep my skin by gently wiping it with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball - a pungent smell filled my nostrils, and then I felt a thin, sharp sting that soon began to hurt terribly.

I gritted my teeth and fought like a lion against the burning and pain that was getting stronger. My eyes watered for a second, but in my head I had a solid, imaginative image of myself hugging my huge teddy bear, and I didn't let the fear and pain overcome me.