Saved by a Miracle
Saved by a Miracle
She was driving too fast. She kept reminding herself that she was driving too fast. But she was blinded, blinded by tears, blinded by her anger, her helplessness, her limitations. She had always pictured herself in the darkest most depressed of her moments, doing this. Running away, like the damsels in the movies only to find that her family has come to take her home. She had never pictured herself driving, after a complete episode of yelling and exchanging of vows that can never be fulfilled. She had never imagined the amount of emotion contained in such an endeavor, the amount of effort one needed to run away from his loved ones. She could never picture the heartbreaks when she saw the movies, could never completely feel how it actually felt when one devastated soul actually took a step out of his house, a place he lived for an eternity.
Here she was, trying to erase that horrible episode from her mind. Trying desperately to repel the source of so much misery. Trying to run away from the people she loved the most in the whole world. But she was lost in thoughts, faraway from reality. And the world of thoughts is a dangerous one. She skidded around a corner to find a truck coming at her at unimaginable speed. But she was too engrossed in her problems for her mind to register the call for an immediate left turn. There was a hideous explosion of sounds as the two vehicles collided, accompanied by radiating bits and pieces of all shapes and sizes. The impact of the collision compressed the metallic body of the car against her and she was crushed in between layers of metal. Pain laced her entire body as she remained there, packed in her car, losing herself in her own pool of blood.
She could hear calls and shouts outside but she could not discern them. She felt life leaking out of her like the blood escaping from her body. She had always thought, what it would be like dying after a valiant victory. Dying while she lay in her pool of blood surrounded by people she knew, faces she loved, asking her to stay like it was ever even a choice. She never knew that the first thing she would feel is, regret. She never knew that so many regrets would fill her up, like a balloon full of air. But here they were, coming by the dozens, confusing her, crushing her, deeming her so helpless…
Someone had called the ambulance. People were pulling at the dented door, trying to get her out. They were calling to her but she made no response. They finally got the door out of the way and carefully pulled her out of the hunk of metal that was once her car. The ambulance personnel carefully and quickly hooked her up to the machines and ventilation pump. She presented a low, diminishing pulse rate. The siren came alive as the ambulance cruised through traffic to the hospital.
She was lying on the stretcher, that was moving towards the OT. Nurses and doctors wheeled her around the hospital halls towards their destination.
“What is your name?”
“Yes, good, good. What is it?”
“Very good Amanda, just stay with us. Don’t sleep. What do you do?”
“I’m …an ..architect..”
“Amazing, splendid. Do you know where you live?”
“Superb. How do you feel?”
“I feel…I feel…painful…helpless…” She added after a shuddering breath, “So many…regrets.”
They had reached the OT by then and the doctors quickly moved on to work.
Amanda was 10 years old. She was watching her brothers play. They were not allowing her to play with them. Her sister was studying for her math test so she could not ask her. She finally goes up to them.
“I want to play. Please let me play, big K.”
“Sorry, Mandy. Cricket ball is quite hard, it can hurt you.”
“But I am so bored! Let me do anything simple.”
She ran inside and complained to her father. Their father came out to ask the boys to let her play. Something crashed the window. A ball came in. The boys got scolded and were punished. Amanda felt triumphed then.
But she convulsed on the OT table now, as she felt sorry for ever being the cause of pain for them.
Amanda was 15 now. She was asking her mother to let her go outside with her friends. To the mall. Her mother denied. Again and again. She yelled at her mother. Threw a vase into the wall. Her mother started crying as she angrily slammed the door of her room.
A single tear escaped her half opened eyes today. A single tear in consolidation to the millions her mother ever shed because of her.
Amanda was 22 now. She was sitting, huddled in a corner as she watched her brother fighting with her sister’s husband. Arguing first, then the voices rose. She heard yelling. She felt small and powerless as she always did when they fought. She squeaked a protest when suddenly, the fighting started. She ran now, towards them trying to come in between. They stopped as she did. She yelled at them now. Yelled at them for being inconsiderate and selfish. Yelled at them for being weak enough to hit one another. She told them she never wanted to see their faces anymore because they were not worth it. Instead of being ashamed, they yelled at her for speaking at all. How easily masculine ego is bruised. They told her to back off and shut up. She couldn’t even breathe the stifled hateful atmosphere. She took her coat and keys and told them she hated them. Told them she will never come back. She could hear her parents protesting but she couldn’t live in a place where human emotions got the better of their humanity. Where ego surpasses blood or where abuse beats respect. She had been immature herself, once, but she grew up. Why couldn’t people around her do the same. So she just took the car and drove out.
She regretted leaving her parents behind.
She regretted yelling at anyone.
But she regretted most of all not getting a single call from anyone, wishing her back.
Amanda was in a medical ward now. She felt stiff and sore, from cuts and bruises and hard bandages. She could barely move a muscle. She didn’t feel good. But she felt peaceful. She felt something has eased out.
She tried rotating her head. She winced with pain but she needed to look about. She gasped when she saw her father standing in the doorway, talking to the doctor. Her mother was crying in his shoulder. Her sister and her husband sat on the bench, praying. Her brother was walking back and forth, crying. Her breath caught when she saw the tears. Man, he looked in so much pain. She called out but no sound escaped. Instead there was an audible gurgling that bought everyone’s attention. They pushed the doctor away and circled her, calling her name. Her brother was crying in her arm. Her parents were kissing her head in turns. Her sister was tickling her feet, sobbing as she did. Her brother in law looked ashamed and kept apologizing.
She didn’t feel angry anymore. She wanted to tell them but she had no words, no gestures to help her. She tried raising her left hand. It landed on top of her brother’s head. He smiled as she gently fondled his hair. They all did.Share