I have lived my life mostly with internal struggles and victories that are not visible to other people. Most of my challenges were either self-imposed or were imposed by academic work and none of those would make a compelling narrative. So, I will be telling you the tale of the time I reached rock bottom in my life. Now this is the story about something that might have happened to a majority of individuals, but my heightened sense of drama tends to see things a bit differently.
During the summer break between my ninth and tenth grade, I went to the northern part of India with family for leisurely family trip. We were riding horses on top of a mountain and I was scared of horse Riding. Now you may think that what happened next was something drastic like falling off a small cliff or having the horse falling on me. No. None of that happened. I simply fell off the back of the horse, something that happens to almost every horse rider and is no real problem right? Wrong.
As I tried to pull myself up from the ground, I felt that my left arm was unable to move at all. Every time I tried pulling it up, it felt like it was moving yet it remained on the ground unmoving. I could move my fingers but not my wrist or for that matter, my elbow. If I put in some effort, my shoulder was able to move on their own but that was all I could do.
Somehow, my mother understood what had happened and tied my hand with her scarf as a makeshift sling to support it in a ninety-degree angle. What happened after that was the biggest proper adventure I have ever been on. My parents and the horse instructors tried to hoist me back onto the horse but I couldn’t get on the horse now that one of my hands was incapacitated. So, I treaded -with one hand tied-on the pathway that only horses are supposed to cross.
I did not get tired or feel a lot of pain throughout the trip. Thank the gods for adrenaline rushes.
For hours, we trekked down the slope. The sun had been up when I had fallen from the horse and now it slowly set into the horizon painting the sky red on one half and dark blue on the other half. We were late by at least two hours. It all seemed hopeless, yet we trudged onwards because we had no other option. We could not rest, we could not turn back, we certainly couldn’t teleport, we could just walk. In a peter Jackson movie, this would be the time when they show a montage of the characters walking over mountains as a Switzerland advertisement.
Finally, when we arrived on to the main road where cars could go, it was dark. Our driver arrived around the same time we did on the road like the savior he was. He might as well have drifted the car onto the scene and said “come with me if you want to live”.
We sped through the rough roads of the rural area. Each bump on the road had hurt me but I kept it to myself, I had to bear it. I didn’t want to worry my family.
When we arrived at the hospital, an event worth calling Deus Ex Machina happened. The hospital did not usually have any doctor worth two cents in it but on that day, there was a visiting doctor that would have left the next day and he was an orthopedic doctor. He was there because it happened to be the time of a pilgrimage that started from that city.
So those were the most stressful moments of my life. It was actually something that could be considered a situation of life and death in a way. I honestly don’t know how I was able to continuously walk through the forest without stopping even once.
What followed after It was six months of agony as nobody wanted to be around me, I struggled while studying, I struggled while sleeping and I struggled in being able to do almost any basic thing required for living. Yet I pushed on. I had not been able to move my wrist for a major part of the healing period but I made it work out of sheer willpower.