I awoke in a hospital bed. When the doctors and my family tried to explain that I was in an accident, I went crazy. I tried to pull off the breathing machine and the tubes and lines connected to my body.
TUCUMAN, Argentina ꟷ The only memory I have of the day my body was crushed in a drunken hit and run is my feet walking through the city center that afternoon.
In fact, I have no memories from the weeks or months before the accident. The full year prior remains spotty and unclear.
On that fateful Saturday, I went to the store to try on clothes for a party later in the evening. I vaguely recollect returning home that afternoon.
My parents drove me to the party – a birthday celebration for my friend from college where we studied medicine. Later we went to a club where the accident occurred. Walking across the avenue, the car apparently came toward me. When it hit, my body flew fifty meters and landed on the boulevard.
I awoke in a hospital bed. When the doctors and my family tried to explain that I was in accident, I went crazy. I tried to pull off the breathing machine and the tubes and lines connected to my body. Doctors tied me down for my own safety.
I had been in a coma for two weeks, but it took far longer to accept my new situation. People told me I could not walk, and I struggled to understand why. I always walked before, so why couldn’t I walk now?
Part of my confusion could be attributed to the terrible neurological damage I suffered. Doctors wondered if I would ever be able to study, walk, or even speak. Often, the type of damage I suffered included myriad long-term effects.
I defied the worst cases scenarios, but my life changed a lot after the accident. I had no tastes in things and no personal history to remember. Recovering my identity would be the longest process of all. I used to say that before the accident I was dumb. The truth is, living through such trauma changed me.
My final surgery at the clinic sought to repair my windpipe. Long term reliance on a breathing machine caused adverse effects. With my windpipe closing, air could not enter my body. Doctors cut out a piece of my windpipe and left me for 15 days with my chin stitched to my chest.
One bad move and the area inside my neck would separate. I could easily die.
Inspired by the support from my family and friends, I fought on. I fed off their energy, returning it to them by recovering day by day.
Now, five years after that horrible day, I am just now returning to normal life. Last year I finished my degree in medicine and today I am in a medical residency. The accident inspired me to study neurology. I devour books on the topic, knowing that I suffered. A neurological injury is not a person’s entire identity. Yet, you have to reconstruct yourself from nothing.
For me, this reconstruction is like a second birthday.