The Insomniac

Hai was born in a small village in Tây Ninh province, just two hours northwest of Saigon. The village was more jungle than city, with overgrown greenery, thick and untreated. Vines hanging from fences, dense bush lining dirt roads. A myriad of sage, emerald, and juniper danced across the dense Vietnamese landscape.

The youngest of three boys, Hai spent his formative years learning from the mistakes of his elder brothers, donning hand-me-down clothes, and fighting for his fair share of pho at supper time. When Hai was just seven years old, his parents made the daunting decision to relocate the family to Saigon, coupled with a promise of a better life and a stronger education for their boys. Hai didn’t mind the transition at first, but reflected that he would most miss playing in the creek that ran along the back perimeter of their acreage.

The move to the big city came with lots of changes for the Nguyễn family. After settling into their new two-story dwelling in the heart of Saigon’s district one, they struggled to adjust to life amongst an influx of people. Being interspersed with an increasing number of citizens meant they all inevitably caught colds and illnesses within the first few months, but none lasted nearly as long as Hai. Beginning as a sore throat that elevated to a strong head cold and then a tumultuous fever, Hai’s illness drained him of all energy until he was just a shell of the vibrant boy he once was.

His illness not only caused him pain and discomfort but so too did it impact his sleep. Hours and hours and days on end, Hai would stare at the walls and ceiling, perplexed by his inability to doze, or even to yawn. And when the rest of his symptoms eased, he was simply left with a waning sleep schedule that threatened his sanity. His parents thought perhaps this came as a response to their life-altering move, some kind of resistance to the cityscape. Their hard-earned cash went directly to an institution, where Hai was then instructed to seek specialized treatment up North in Vietnam’s capital city, Hanoi.

Being diagnosed with insomnia proved to be a condition that impacted more than just his sleep cycle. As he aged, his difficulty in life only increased. Bullied at school for his unusual disposition, lacking the energy to form meaningful relationships. Hai turned to reading as his escape. Something he could do with ease, as everyone around him slept, with only the sound of crickets chirping in the night and the occasional toot of a motorbike. He was soon frequenting at the local library, where his inclination for fantasy gradually developed into a full-blown fascination with science, due in part to watching a documentary on famed Vietnamese Scientist San Thang.

For the next few years, Hai dedicated his time to studying the science of his condition. He researched historic global instances of insomnia, looking for an answer hidden within the pages of countless scientific journals and textbooks. He committed significant intervals to studying methods of dealing with the disease that had stolen so much from him. He even researched previous cases of similar stature to his own, searching for a link between their experience and his own declination.

Despite the debilitating features of his ailment, a connection of his father’s garnered Hai early admission to Vietnam National University, where he specialized his studies on sleep deprivation and insomnia. Sticky notes riddled the walls of his cubicle, some scribbled with ideas and theories to examine, others meant as reminders, helping to drive his research even when, at times, he struggled to remember certain details. Recognizing the cloud that was slowly fogging over his mind, Hai worked with even more vigour, with exceptional rapidity, as he operated against his life’s clock.

It was ultimately Hai, in a lab at the University while finishing his undergraduate thesis, who first discovered the bond between his insomnia and a form of rapidly increasing dementia. What his doctors had failed to do, Hai was able to accomplish at just 22 years old, linking his degenerative brain scans with a rare form of Expeditious Dementia. He spent months analyzing the data, linking his results and symptoms and his study of dementia to form his results, gifting himself a mere two years to live at his present steady rate of decline.

Hai had never thought about fortune. Of what his passion for science could earn him. Instead, he thought of himself, of trying to rectify a life that had been lost in so many ways due to his disease. He also thought of all those who would come after him, experiencing the same trauma caused by insomnia, the same altered life.

The results of his findings proved impactful. Not only did he outline a deterioration timeline with highlighting symptoms and featured ailments, but so too did he shape avenues for combating his indisposition. While his body had transformed until Hai was merely a shell of his former self, his brain had remained active, vigorous against its decline, exuberantly searching for a cure.

Ultimately, his revolutionary research proved entirely accurate, taking him from this life exactly as he had previously predicted. His passing came swiftly, like a feather floating in a breeze. Finally, he was granted the rest he had for so long learned to live without. And with his passing came word of his notoriety, his picture featured on the front page of thousands of international newspapers, his scientific discovery made more enthralling by his direct link to the disease, and of course, his succumbing to it.

Dr. Isla Holmes pronounced him a pioneer in his field. “His exploration will prove ground-breaking in insomnia-related research. Mr. Nguyễn has truly paved the way for future individuals suffering with his same obstacle.” Donned the cover of Life magazine.

“A brilliant man who worked industriously within the confides of his predicament,” stated Professor Ginsberg from UCLA. A man with extensive research experience in sleep deprivation, eager to build upon Hai’s unique research to support his own explorations.

Scientific journals, newspapers, and magazines were not the only entities to memorialize Hai Nguyễn’s namesake. While news of his unexpected life buzzed internationally, it was months later, when the hype had died down and nobody seemed to care much anymore, that Hai’s mother decided to situate his name where it would never be forgotten.

Hidden within Saigon, amongst the busy streets crowded with motorbikes, tourists, and tuk-tuks, housed a quaint and well-kept park. Children cycled across the paths, elderly couples strolled along listlessly, teenagers swung from the exercise machines with haste.

And in the middle of the chaos that is life sat a bench. A fresh coat of paint made this particular bench stand out amongst the rest, while a silver plaque shined brightly with the sun’s reflection between the trees. On the plaque, sporting a crisp cursive font, immortalized the life of Hai Nguyễn.

Hai Nguyễn

2001-2023

May he now relish in his eternal rest.