A near-death misadventure
Post recovery perspective
They say your life flashes before your eyes when you are about to die. Well, let me tell you — mine didn’t. I was in the cab at the backseat, diagonally opposite to the driver. In mere seconds, I felt the car racing up and by the time I yelled ‘Bhaiyaa’ (Hindi word for Brother) to the driver as if this brother would realize quickly and control it all — he was asleep. Meanwhile, by the time I finished the word, and my eyes widened, I saw a bright light in front of me — every ounce of existence screaming at me — What have I got myself into? Something horrible is up next. The bright light though conveyed to me that this could be the transition door to the end.
All F1 instincts secretly instilled in me while I stalked Charles Leclerc kicked in, kudos to his intensive training videos and fine looks. I knew I had to save my head and neck from getting impacted. As quickly as I could, I had my hands and legs against my chest to land as an animal on four legs with the right balance and no chance of hurting my head. I was successful. No blood I saw. I could feel my head spinning and had to position back to a sitting position. In no time, I realized how I underestimated this; I couldn’t feel a bone in my thigh, and it was extremely painful to move. Like a jelly bag, I lifted it with both my hands and sat in the backseat, yelping in pain. This is also when I realized that my fingers were not okay.
Indeed, borderline successful, my head was untouched however my femur and fingers were thrashed. I hadn’t shed a tear yet, for my next mission was to get my phone so I could contact my brother. People started gathering around me like a new museum art put up. A man was kind enough to help me scout my phone while others filmed this precious moment. My phone was working despite the throw, the first small victory with a sigh. The call was made, I informed him about the accident and called the ambulance.
While I waited for the right help to come, my brain decided to play a highlight reel of every incomplete deal I had ongoing — my brother over for Christmas, Anshu’s first birthday planning, my new education path, my Antarctica expedition application, my romantic venture — like binge-watching a blooper video of my own existence. I could sense everything crashing down and everything I was possibly working towards to build my life, all taken apart as mere puzzle pieces. I was zoning out of every phone flashing on my face to record a video and was snapped out only when I saw my brother’s face and I told him how I don’t feel my thigh and I don’t know what has happened. I could see his concern for me and anger for the driver. The ambulance was here, and I was laid on a stretcher all in parallel with screams of pain.
I was in the ambulance placed like an object, for any spinal injury could affect my mobility. The doors were shut, and I looked at my brother (to be doctor) with all hope I could possibly gather to ask if I will ever walk again, and this was the first time I cried. I cried my eyes out, through his answer, through the ride to the hospital, through any consolations offered by any/all in the ambulance. It started then, a saga of roofs I stared at — hospital ceilings, ambulance ceilings, my room ceiling and the glimpse of sky through my window. It has been 15 months of which 6 months, I was bedridden and another 4 months — spatially limited, to today that I danced with my friends.
The first night that I slept post hospital discharge, at home — I would have done anything to let someone slap me awake from this nightmare. The next morning, for a moment, it felt like I am a free woman until the reality sank in. This small bit of time where I wake up and feel free to only realize that I am not, happened for multiple mornings until I accepted this to be my reality. No slap, no nightmare, all real — all me.
All things I possibly imagined in my blooper reel, were shred to pieces. I was ineligible for the Antarctica expedition that I had applied for, so ardently. Anshu’s birthday celebration was cancelled because I was such. I had applied for Economics majors and had my first-year exams — couldn’t give that and never went back to it, till date. My brother’s Christmas vacation turned into sleepless and helpless nights. The romantic venture that I was invested in, I told him about this, he checked on me via texts saying, ‘How is your leg and body?’ and went quiet on me until I called him out to hear that I overwhelm him. He never met me after my accident, and I was deeply fond of him to have him as my first few thoughts after I accepted my reality. To top it all off, I had seen all my elders cry and panic and disheartened. So, the life I imagined I was building up to, wasn’t possible now.
Coping mechanism, one must say, I zeroed in on work, literature of all kinds and Anshu. My emotions were all on edge while I felt so wrongly treated by no one in particular but life in general. I have held grudges against any and all involved. My anger was my way to protect myself and defend myself like I had to. Well, I didn’t.
After 15 months, I must tell you some updates — that work I zeroed in on, didn’t reflect any results in fact average performance rating despite bringing in the most revenue in the team because the company is going through reorg and is in no position to reward; the literature I consumed — the world of internet understood I was sad and its overly praised algorithm made me sadder — the articles, the video content, the movies, the books — everything. I lost many people in this due course — many who I previously prayed for. What really, authentically stayed was Anshu and my people. These deep connections one makes, that is all life is about.
Not that Anshu wasn’t sassy with me, he is a 1-year-old kid who very well knew that though I played with him, the whole day, could not take him out to roam. Because I was walking with a crutch, he would shake a lot while I lifted him and walked, and he would hold on to my shirt for his dear life. This smart young human would race with me — our families bet on Anshu’s first steps vs my recovery. My people knew how to bring my spirit back to living a life and back to being hopeful for life. My physiotherapist, Dr. Jessi, I am going to bow down for he has heard me scream the life out of him while he would try to mobilize my leg. I have ranted about my life to him as he is my psychotherapist and scolded him whenever he was overly optimistic. I was difficult for my own people who wanted to stand by me, simply because I was angry at life and the people I lost.
Time seemed to stretch, and I have obsessed over all thoughts, dreams, words — both positive and negative. Owing to all that, as I lay here contemplating my survival, still hungover with the recovery pain — I can assure you, a near-death experience will only make you realize the power of human connection. These connections elevate you and are rightly addressed as ‘My warm people’ by me now.
Recap of the near-death misadventure — Charles Leclerc ignited the urge in me to protect myself and all my people (Anshu, family & few close friends) ensured I focus on keeping that lantern lit for one day at a time until I am on my two legs — literally and metaphorically.
Moral of the misadventure — Crushes are important😊. This wasn’t a battle I chose, and I owe it to myself to let go of the anger and resentment towards those who chose not to stand by me in this battle. I choose forgiveness – for them and for myself.
