When I was a child I was a “bubble girl” with a -severe persistent asthma-.
My bubble was a bed covered by a plastic wrap in the ward on our local hospital. Inside was hot and humid, like a sauna -maybe that’s why I have this thin white/reddish sensitive skin-.
My father and his friends worked as doctors and nurses there. They gave me lots of children storybooks since I could not move.
I remember I was ward`s favorite. Never complained with the injections or treatments so nurses spoil me reading me stories and making me company.
Most of the times my mother was too tired -as every mum with a sick child and a home/work life must be for sure- So I started asking every person to teach me how to read.
I had to be fast, most of the time books started to tear apart with humidity before I could end a page.
So I practiced, a lot!
It was springtime and the local hospital was full of lonely old people. All the beds were taken, there were so many beds, that the space between them was just enough for a nurse to stand. Anyway, we frequently received new beds with people from the emergency room. They talked while sleeping, sometimes they shouted out loud and tried to get out of bed creating a chaotic climate on the ward.
Next to my bed was a white-haired man. His skin was reddish too, so I thought we were the same. He was nice, told me stories. It was hard to understand what he was saying at the beginning, he had a very croaky voice.
When there was nothing new to read, I started sneaking out of the bubble, to find some more, with the consequent crisis after, of course. Which I was forced to cover by controlling my breathing to avoid attention.
In my night escapes I hid under my white-haired friend´s bed. He never sold me out to the nurses.
Each time I went further from my bubble. Scared of being caught, I used to run away a lot… until I got caught, by my own doctor.
He thought that maybe I could develop a way to get over my condition and gave me permission to get out from time to time under the eyes of the nurses. But I went further and got to the hospital yard where big old eucalyptus scattered a menthol smell.
It didn’t last. A man in white grabbed me by the arm, put me in a wheel chair and took me back to ward – seems I caused a big commotion with my adventure- a lot of people was trying to find me.
Christmas was near and my parents wanted to take me home. Dad made me a portable bubble from a hairdressing old hair drier so I could go home and move.
I grew up and overcome almost all of my allergies. It has been so many years from my last crisis that I barely remember how it felt.
I ride a bike, run, swim, dance, all that my condition suggested I will not be able to do. What brought me here were the words and worlds in all those storybooks.
I lived 4 years in Paris, now in Santiago de Chile working freelance as a script supervisor for Production Services with this company: https://recipecontent.com
Have 10 years experience working with advertising directors from Canada, USA, England, France and Sweden.
I have a crush for Murakami’s novels. I love travel, music (electronic music, classic, jazz… you name, it is music) radio, studying other cultures their mores & laws, ballet, herbal medicine, health and traditions of indigenous people, also astrology.
I have a strong humanitarian impulse and people skills. I've worked as assistant director -please read my résumé-. In practical terms, I am apt for the organization and I like to participate in cooperative or business efforts that are contemporary and innovative.