A boy named Zafran.... (part 1)

Last Saturday turned out to be 'the' most memorable event in my years of teaching (well, up to this point). The day appeared to be just like any other ordinary day and that was where the twist came in. I was having English period with my year 4 and things got ugly. Not literally though. One boy of mine, in fact one of my favourites, had an epileptic seizure. Gave me a fright he was. 

A read-aloud comprehension session was soon replaced by an agonizing scream. I looked back and saw, to my horror, the boy holding his finger as if it was caught on fire. Barely reaching out for his shoulders, the boy, continued with his screams, now, as it seemed, tried to bury one of his arms into the chest.  

The anguish pain was soon replaced by a sick, gurgling sound. The head jerked uncontrollably, the mouth twitching to the sides in a frenzy. In an attempt to do something, I tried to carry the boy, but futile it was, the best I could do was to drag him onto the floor and laid him there. 

Feeling impotent, I screamed for help, not knowing what to do, I shouted at some pupils to get help, shouted at some more, pleading for space and air for the poor child . Few minutes later the fits seemed to slow down. Holding the boy in my arms, calling out his names, praying and wishing that the boy will gain consciousness any time soon, I took a gallant step to check for the breath. Registering what was happening, I completely lost it, shouted at the remaining pupils to get help from the staffroom. With a whole crowd of pupils rushing to search for aid, I was left alone (with one or two pupils), fat tears forming at the sides of the eyes; "He stopped breathing", I repeated countless of time in my head....

By the time aid is here, it will be too late, I told myself in despair. Just then, the boy resuscitated, swaying with minimal control of the body. Murky it was, now the room seemed to be dazzling and blinking. Aid came one tad bit too slow but all was well. 

The boy was rushed to the hospital but the aftermath of the event lingered. The heart palpitated like there was no tomorrow and all colours drained from my face. If something were to happen to the boy, I would have blamed me for the rest of my pitiful life, I told myself in great disgust.