There comes a point of time in our life when we believe that we are incapable of handling our problems. We think that we are stuck in a situation which we can’t get out of; A maze of sorts, which doesn’t have an exit. At this time, we should realize that every moment, be it good or bad, passes by soon enough. Though all of us are given our share of problems, no problem persists for long. We need to deal with them with courage, with perseverance, with hope.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid there is nothing I can do now,” said the doctor. My face turned pale on hearing this. “Your eardrum is going to rupture, and unfortunately, there is nothing I can do to stop it from happening.” The doctor looked at me, eyes full of pity and helplessness.

“Why did this have to happen to me?” I thought, feeling enervated and weakened by the tremendous pain in my left ear. “Why did it have to happen now?”  I couldn’t believe what the doctor said. The ground seemed to have been pulled from under my feet. I desperately looked around the clinic. The clock showed the time as 10 o’clock on that fateful Tuesday night. Conveniently, the clinic had a pharmacy section, where stacks of medicine were stored. “There must be something in here, some sort of over-the-counter painkiller, some sort of panacea that could ease the pain and prevent my eardrum from rupturing.” To my utter disappointment, there wasn’t any that could do the same. On the plus side, the doctor offered a mild painkiller to somewhat alleviate my pain.

The day had started off on a good note; It was a typical school day; I attended school like on any other day, met my friends, learned my lessons and came back home.

Nothing was out of place, except for the slight cold that I had caught the day before. Come evening, it was as if fate had turned the tables on me. Before one could even bat an eyelid, the peaceful, mundane day took a tumultuous turn. Around 7 p.m., I started feeling a sharp pain in my ear. Ignoring it initially, I went about doing my work. That was the first mistake. Before long, the intensity of the pain increased to such an extent, that I couldn’t stop tears flowing down my cheeks. My parents rushed me to the clinic nearest to our home.

The dialogue with the doctor had me feeling helpless and vulnerable. My parents paid for the medicine, and thanked the doctor. As soon as we got into the car to head home, I sat on the backseat with my mom, took the painkiller, and put my head in her lap. She stroked my hair, and consoled me, telling me repeatedly to be strong, and that this will pass soon. I cried and cried till I fell asleep. When we reached home, I feebly walked to my room, and collapsed onto my bed without bothering to change. My mom came in my room, and put a towel on my pillow. I slept on my side, with my left ear on the pillow.

As the night went on, the pain intensified. With the passing hours, blood from my ear dripped onto the pillow, soaking the towel with blood and tears, in the process. Thanks to the painkiller, there were moments where I feel asleep, but the pain was so unbearable that it woke me up at irregular intervals. My mom didn’t leave my side that night. Whenever I would wake up, my mom would whisper words of consolation and try to make me fall asleep.

Time after time, she would repeat her phrase, “This too will pass.”

These four words were what kept me going, what kept me strong. And she was right; those horrible moments; where I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, where the world seemed to be collapsing on me, did pass. When I woke up in the morning, the pain in my ears had reduced drastically, to the point where I almost didn’t notice it. My pillow was soaked in dried up blood and tears, a dark gift of the terrible night. I sat up in my bed, and was greeted by my mom, who was carrying a tray with breakfast for me. “Thank you mom, for last night,” I said to her. “I couldn’t do it without you and your kind words.” She smiled, and sat down to have breakfast with me.