There is only darkness. My accident finale!

Hopefully this is the final post. I am getting sick of reliving those awful days myself. I chose those words as the title because it was my answer to a question from a friend. I was asked if I ever had anyone in mind during my road to recovery, or is there a motivational figure for me. Well, there is no one. Who can I call 3 in the morning when I was suffering so much that I could not sleep? Who can I call to help me open the toilet door when my palm is still leaking plasma? I am thankful to have friends helping me to buy food but there is nobody who can ease my pain. My parents at Ipoh cannot do anything except try to understand my situation through the phone and give words of encouragement. Who can feed me when I could not hold a spoon properly and food drops out of my swollen lips? In that short amount of time, I found out how my life could be so much worst.

Does that mean I am glad to be alive? Yes, but I am still bitter at being injured. What did other people pay to avoid being injured? What was the price? Could I afford it? Is it as simple as buying a car or it is my fate to be injured either way? During the first night, I could barely sleep. The swelling was so horrible I could not move my fingers without being in pain. I honestly thought I was going to lose my baby finger because it was injured at the joints and it looked horrible. I went through tissue papers as I struggled to keep my wounds clean and sterilized. My thoughts wander about problems I will face when nature calls. I threw them away and concentrate on dealing with things one at a time. With wounds on both my palm and the back of my hands, I have no way of putting them down. There was no correct way to sleep.

I will wake up every other hour while checking my wounds and keeping my thirst or hunger in check. The painkiller is useless. I wish I had alcohol solution or something to numb the pain, at least for me to drink water. Time passed by slowly. I could not concentrate on the drama series I continuously play to keep myself occupied. The pain is constantly reminding me that things are not all right. Why, I started asking. Why me? Why now? If I was late a bit or early a bit things might be different. I would be sleeping now, and the next day will be just another day at the office and the gym. I could not even bring myself to cry. The hatred and anger were overwhelming as I curse silently, thoughts occupying every waking moment. As dawn breaks, I figured I just need to do this a few more nights.

Toilet is a horrible test. Cleaning up is a miracle. I was in a mess. Bloody, smelly and definitely unsightly. As I endured the pain of my wounds on the chin and inner lips, food and water drips through the swelling. I am embarrassed of myself. I could not look at the mirror for long. I admit I was narcissistic but only as motivation for my gym pursuits. And there was nothing I can do about it. None of my knowledge, my strength, my experience could help me. Only time and sustenance. And a whole tanker of patience and faith. Trust in the fact that everything will be alright. If I endure another night I will be closer to full recovery. I will regain everything that I have lost. Things will be back to normal again. I console myself as I see scabs forming. But the road to recovery is indeed long. And sad. The only time I knelt down was when I dropped my last egg, realizing the fact that I am not capable of even holding an egg. Not able to provide for myself. I am useless.

I could not bear to bring myself into the public. I do not know how to deal with the unwanted attention. I could not even eat properly. Nobody understands my situation. Friends joke about it. Asking me to go show how manly I was. It was so disappointing. Like I said, only darkness. I cannot live on others forever so I decided to go get my own food once I could walk properly and my hands can actually hold something. I only carry a single RM10 note knowing food is not that expensive and I could not defend my wallet if someone decides to rob me. My eyes were wary as they met with the stares of others. I tried to make my journey as quick as possible. Sometimes to the extent of reopening wounds. Somehow physical pain is easier to deal with than shame. What kind of lesson in life is this? What can I possibly gain from this? Compassion for the injured and handicapped? A test? What do I gain from scoring an A?

If this is preparation for something or part of a bigger plan, I cannot possibly see a good ending here. This was a tough journey for me. Again, having to go through it mostly alone, I bury myself deeper, losing trust in people, losing faith in my so-called friends.  People who preach about love, understanding and care seems to be living in a different world altogether. In fact, it might even be. We cannot accept things fully without experiencing it ourselves first. Maybe it was all just a lie? Of course you may rebuke me, but maybe my suffering, my feelings, my thoughts are simply hogwash to you, for the very same reason. I can understand why you do not understand. And I hope you will too. I still have much to say but I guess this writing saga has to come to an end. I do not intend to share pictures of my raw wounds to avoid disgusting people, so here is a photo of my recovering hand and knee I shared on Facebook. It is actually expected if you think the wound is not as serious as my writing, but there is no way I could convince you otherwise. I am definitely in a better place now. It felt rather good writing, so I hope you enjoy reading as well.