Having survived a near-death experience, I found myself once more challenged by my own body.

It was a seemingly innocuous fall that changed my life eight years ago. I had been on holiday, enjoying sun-drenched days and relaxing summer nights.

 

One evening, as myself and my friends were riding the golf cart from the hotel to our accommodation, I lost my balance as the cart went round a sharp bend. I fell backwards, knocking my head on the cobblestones. Feeling more embarrassed than hurt, I shook myself off and staggered back onto the cart.

 

Apart from having a headache, I didn’t think my situation was that serious, and simply asked one of my friends to get me some painkillers.

 

It was only the next morning, as my friend struggled to wake me, that the seriousness of the situation became apparent. I was vomiting and blood was pouring from my nose.

 

I was immediately taken to hospital and despite my ordeal, I joked with the doctors about the accident. It was only after a brain scan was done that the doctors discovered that i had fractured my skull, and was haemorrhaging into the back of my head.

 

My family was called and told that I had to go in for an emergency operation the following morning. The doctors needed to stop the bleeding as soon as possible.”

 

My family flew in from Cape Town, still not fully understanding how severely I had been injured. My parents walked into the intensive care unit (ICU) to find me in a coma, hooked up to a lung machine to help me breathe.

 

The specialist was worried about swelling on my brain and scans postoperative showed that the frontal lobe was now haemorrhaging. She explained that they were going to keep me in a coma, to allow my brain to heal quicker.

 

Four days after my accident, things took a turn for the worse. My blood pressure was high and my heart rate had accelerated. Instead of being reduced, the swelling on my brain had increased and the bleeding had not subsided. My specialist checked on me every half hour and she had a designated ICU nursing sister watching me 24 hours a day.

 

But my situation was dire. My specialist explained that despite their best efforts, they were losing me. The swelling was constricting the veins, and there was concern that parts of my brain were dying. Like something out of Grey’s Anatomy, one doctor frantically tried to get my father to give his permission for an emergency operation over the phone, while 10 others gathered round my bed. As the permission was granted, the machine was unplugged and with a nurse sitting alongside me manually pumping oxygen into my lungs I was rushed from ICU into the operating theatre.

 

The seven-hour operation was successful, but my doctor warned my family that when it comes to brain injuries, there are no guarantees. At this stage they didn’t know what damage would result, if I survived at all. Having done all they could, it was now a case of “wait and see”.

 

During the next few weeks, my health yo-yoed until I was finally stable enough for my doctor to slowly bring me out of the coma. But no one knew what to expect.

 

When I first woke, my behaviour was like that of a two-year-old. Finally, a month after my accident I was sent to a rehabilitation facility. I was starting to heal, but my therapist warned my family that it would take another two years before they would know if I would make a full recovery.

 

And eight years on, I have, but not with out many challenges along the way. The medication I was taking along with being bed bound for months on end led to extreme weight gain.

 

For me, my life-changing moment was one simple event.

 

Not a big thing by any means, but significant to my spirit at the time. A few months into my recovery, including having been wheelchair-bound for three months, my dad took me for a walk on the beach. It was my first outdoor exercise session. I was still shaky and was winded after only a few metres. But I realised how far I had come and nothing was going to stop me now.

 

I started walking every day then began a light exercise programme at home and slowly became stronger. By the end of the year I was amazed at what I had achieved and wanted to challenge myself more, so I began karate to help with my co-ordination.

 

My accident taught me that having a strong healthy body is of paramount importance. I wanted to educate myself in all aspects of health and fitness so I started doing a Personal Training and Nutrition course. My weight loss was steady and healthy.

 

A year after my accident I was fit and healthy and entered the Health and Fitness Industry. I later furthered my studies in Nutrition for Individuals with special needs. Now my main goal and passion is to help others who have given up on themselves.

 

Moral of my story – REFUSE TO GIVE UP ON YOURSELF!