Amidst the Wrecks

Thursday the 27th of August 2015 sunk me in a world I knew not. I got mentally lost that no one understood my thoughts. Like everyone else, I didn’t think I would make it out alive. Five years later, I live to tell the story. A story of my brush with death. A story that scarred me physically, emotionally and mentally.

It all begins with the month of August and the year was 2015. I had made many and unsuccessful attempts in looking for a placement as an intern during my long campus break. My last resort was to volunteer at the Kenya Red Cross Society in Nakuru. Luckily, I performed tasks I loved such as getting in touch with people in the society, conducting mass education and practicing the paltry first aid skills I had learned by myself.

One day, an opportunity arose at a non-governmental organization working in conjunction with the Red Cross to send aid to internally displaced persons. Being a person who grabbed opportunities, I didn’t hesitate for a second. My friend Cindy who was required to undertake that task had exams that week, and I volunteered to fill in for her.

I woke up very early the next morning excited about this new role. Like the days that preceded it, I performed the chores expected of me and left the house by 5.00am. Unafraid of the darkness I walked to the stage to board a matatu to town. However, my heart for one reason or the other was troubled. I tried singing it away and braved on. Halfway to town, I received a call that the company vehicle had left and that I had to commute to the meeting point which was a school close to the IDP camps.

On arrival, we had a short briefing from the team leader who split us into teams. I made the prayer as we dispersed into our respective locations. I was still a bit restless so I played music on my phone to calm me. Coincidentally the song that played on my mind was “Angels amongst us,” all this while.

“What could be the problem?” I kept asking myself.

Less than two kilometers from our meeting point, I heard the car brakes screech and the car swerve into a shamba. I quickly took out my earphones to register what had just happened. Paul our driver seemed to be in a hurry despite the road being so rugged. He was driving at a speed of 140km/h!

“Please slow down,” Irene, one of my team mates begged.

Arrogantly Paul muttered, “relax, I have been driving this vehicle for long, I will get you to your destination.”

Within no time, we were back on the road. Paul seemed not to have taken heed of the cries to persuade him to drive at a more reasonable speed. Again, one kilometer away, the car swerved into the sand. Paul tried to figure out what to do and tried to bring the vehicle to a stop to no avail. It rolled and overturned four times before coming to a halt. The wheels continued to turn even as the vehicle remained upside down. Then everything went silent. My mind raced and my heart pounded hard.

I tried to pull myself out of the wreckage when I realized I couldn’t feel or move my legs. “Had I broken my legs? Was that my last breath?” I questioned myself.

“Please save me!” I wailed. My voice was weak. All my colleagues and Paul had managed to get themselves out of the vehicle. “Why wasn’t I able to move?” I tried to pull myself out for the second time. I felt a sharp pain on my neck. A pain I had never felt before. Something must be utterly wrong.

Talking was very challenging so I decided to remain quiet. Outside, everyone seemed busy trying to lift the wreck to allow room for them to pull me out. After a while, my colleagues pulled me out and called for an ambulance.

“Irene kindly call my dad and let him know about the incident. His number is 07……..” I mumbled amidst the pain and confusion.

Unfortunately, we were in a very remote area where no ambulance could reach. We had to think fast as no one understood the extent of pain or injury that I had suffered. Having no other option, we had to use a matatu that had been assigned to the other team. At every movement, the pain kept recurring. Tears rolled down my face, I was helpless and felt so clueless of what was happening. We arrived at the nearest health center. I was taken in fast, basic first aid was administered and referred to Nakuru Provincial General Hospital as an emergency case.

All the way the medics kept checking my vitals as they murmured some words which I guess implied that the case was serious. On arrival I had a team waiting to receive me at the emergency entrance. I tried to look up, and my eyes met my father’s. I was shattered!

Tears uncontrollably rolled down my cheeks. Dad couldn’t help it too… For the first time I saw him weep that much. He tried to hold my arm but my arm just fell back freely to my chest. The nurses were briefed on what happened and I heard one urgently call for a “collar neck.”

Never had I heard of such. We tried to ask on the prognosis but no one responded. They rushed from place to place and called for a doctor to come and conduct an examination. A team of doctors came in worry written all over their faces. One of them cleared his throat to speak. “I’m sorry, but in this case, we are looking at a possible spinal cord injury! However, we need to conduct an MRI for us to give a concrete report.”

“Dad what does the doctor mean?” I whispered. He sobbed slowly and went out of the ward leaving me with no response. When he came back, he tried to tell me that God was in control. That made no sense to me then. The doctors were worried, dad was crying and mum was nowhere close to the vicinity. Mum came in her eyes red from weeping.

A couple of minutes later, the team of doctors came back to the ward. I overheard one of them say the word paralysis. “Am I paralyzed?” “Will I be able to walk again?” I asked. Everyone remained silent. I concluded that the answer was to the affirmative.

Had all I worked so hard for crumbled in minute?” I wished it was a dream I could wake up from. Unfortunately, this was real. I had suffered a spinal cord injury and the once energetic, bubbly and charismatic Cathy was gone!