Gratitude Doesn't Even Describe It - PART 1

I have always thought about writing about a cherished and life-affirming period of my life. It's a true-life story and it's going to be in series. I hope I get to encourage and inspire you with it. Here's my story:

 Gratitude Doesn't Even Describe It - PART 1

One day, some months after my twentieth birthday while I was lying on the hospital bed with my right leg hanging, writing in my diary about my many dreams, I realised something. I may never walk again. Surprisingly, I wasn't scared - I was numb of all feelings except that burning sensation in my fractured leg. It was as if I could feel the blood vessels vibrating. But I ignored it. I couldn't also pray the whole time. I thought it was odd that I felt this way but I couldn't help it.

Me & my hot legs! hahaha

I saw someone coming in. I knew it was my Dad. No one else was allowed to see me at six in the morning. I looked up and for a beat he looked at me with an expression that seemed like sadness. Everyone seemed to wear sombre looks. I was used to it. He sat beside my bed and I continued writing. I wrote about how I imagined being that CEO, only right now, I didn't believe it!

A moment later, I thought back to one night, a year ago. My room mate and I were discussing. She kept saying that it couldn't be stopped. "What?" I had asked. "Accidents, sicknesses and especially death." She spoke slowly, her teeth seemed clenched, eyes focused straight up at the ceiling. When I pressed her for more, she said, "I'm afraid I'll end up just killing myself." At that time it had given me shivers, a clammy feeling ran throughout my body. But  I talked myself out of it saying she was only being dramatic.

Well, here I was a victim of accident - one of the things she talked about! More than anything I wanted to break free. I worried that I might remain tied to that bed. I was stuck. So I figured if I couldn't change the situation, maybe I could pretend it wasn't happening. And I decided that what I needed were books and a small radio. And I made my dad get them.  I would exchange novels with one of my favourite nurses. The books were my ticket out of whatever I thought I was in.

To be continued ...