How can I describe the most absurd story that ever happened to me.  Today is Sunday and it is 2 weeks I am lying in the Intensive care. Today I am terribly down. Many months I have to wait before I can be as I was. I will never be as I was. I have scars all over my body. And the pain, my legs hurts so much. They will take a very long time to heal.  If ever...Who will help me?..

This an extract of my diary actually my first few sentences written with my left hand as my right was paralyzed because of one of the many terrible  bone's fractures I suffered. I gave up writing after those few pages. It was too much of an effort.

And today I celebrate my 30th anniversary of that life changing event.
And my life has not been the same as before the accident.

Thirty years. A lot has happened. And I am still here fighting and kicking and dealing with discomfort and pain in my body. But who doesn't? It is just a body. I learned in that hospital bed where I laid for 6 months that I  can watch my body, that I can relax with whatever pain troubles me. Not without effort and not without wetting my pillow. Rivers of tears flew down my young face, especially in the night, alone in a foreigner country faraway from my family and friends. My mother moved to Aix en Provence to be with me, but even she had to sleep in her hotel in the night.

I was only 22 years old. All my life in front of me. And what a life...

The nights were long, endless, I never felt so helpless like I did in that time. I never felt so alone and so  small. For weeks and weeks my only position to sleep was flat on my back, I could just only turn my head to the right and left. Anything else was impossible and terribly painful. Stoic and spartan like a true warrior and a mountain girl as I was I refused to take any sleeping pill or painkiller.  And so I laid there and thought and prayed and kept on breathing and crying.
Eventually dawn came and the nurse's morning shift and another day began.

I haven't forgotten. Perhaps people that knows me don't remember this or is not at all important for them but let me tell you, those people including closest friend know nothing about me.
I can never forget. It is a part of me
It has been now 30 years and I can still tell the story although I hardly have a desire to do so because I find that people are not very interested in listening to such an experience and tend to interrupt, interprete or talking about themselves. So is my secret. Sometimes I write about it usually once a year on this day.

Yes it  is my secret and will always be my secret, 
angels whispering, 
and wings flying, 
light and darkness and light again
how many ways can you say thank you to the Above
for the chance to stay a little longer
to learn to dance your own dance
to be able to say 
I lingered for a moment on the doorstep of the beyond
and knowing that there is nothing to fear.

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