An Accident

Many years ago, I was involved in a self-accident. Sensing a gradual drop in my stamina due to enduring months and months of a busy schedule, I decided to pump my muscles a little by trying to lift my chin above a high bar at the beach opposite my school. My attempt worked, and I managed to repeat the same feat a few more times. 

Encouraged by this minor success, I decided to give myself an even greater challenge by swinging around the bar like a gymnast! Gymnastics has remained my favourite sport since I first fell in love with it in 1984. I was watching a live telecast of the Olympic team finals with my family. My heart leapt while watching gymnasts performing release-and-catch elements on the high bar and the uneven bars. I had managed to pick up a few basic skills in gymnastics only recently: front and back rolls, front and back cartwheels and sideways tumbling passes. However, they were not fluid because of the limitations of my bulky physique. I had also worked very hard to increase my strength. After months of persistent workouts, I was finally able to lift myself up with pointed legs by pressing my hands to the ground. However, I could not hold the position for long because of my undertrained arms. 

Despite my lack of gymnastic prowess, I naively believed that I could perform giant swings around the bar. Little did I realise that I was building castles in the air. Any sane person without firsthand knowledge of gymnastics would have readily considered the risk of this action, but I was blinded by my impulsiveness. With a leap, I clung to the bar and kicked my feet upwards. To my delight, I could feel my body rising above the bar, and the first giant swing of my life was accomplished. When my body was making the second swing around the bar, I saw stars all around me, and the sky seemed to be tumbling down. In a panic, I attempted to swing myself back into a clinging position, but I kicked my feet up instead. My weak arms could no longer sustain my weight, and I felt as though my muscles were tearing. 

At that very moment, a sense of foreboding flooded over me. Am I going to die? was my only thought at that time. I did not know exactly what happened, but in my desperation to get down, I released my grip and found myself plummeting through the air. I blacked out instantly when my head hit the cement ground. I thought I was dead, but after a few seconds, I came around, and I experienced a fierce fit of pain. Burying my injured head in my hands, I struggled to my feet. I could hear voices around me, and they sounded familiar. They were my students’! Before trying my hand at the bar, I had actually warned them against running around the beach without adult supervision. In shame, I opened my eyes and directed them to where the boys were. Upon seeing my face, they all screamed in horror. My face was seriously bruised and swollen, and blood streamed from my nostrils in rivulets, staining my shirt. A student gave me some tissue to staunch the flow of blood, and the rest rushed to a nearby food stall to get some ice cubes. When they returned with a plastic bag of ice cubes, I pressed it to the swollen area on my face, and it stung like fire! Tears of pain coursed down my cheeks, and the students looked at me agape. When I fully regained my presence of mind, I instructed the students to make a phone call to the senior assistant at my school. He rushed to the beach and took me to the hospital. I was given three days of bed rest, and the news of my injury became the talk of my school.

A few days after I sustained the injury, I heard loud screeching in my right ear. At first, I thought it was the sound of insects, and I searched all over the house for the source of the noise. When I realised that it was coming from my ear, I was devastated. That night, no matter how hard I tried to shut it out, the noise became increasingly louder. When I returned to the hospital the next day, the doctor re-examined my head and determined that everything was all right. “But your nervous system could have been affected by the fall,” he said. He prescribed some gingko, but it did nothing to alleviate my suffering. I gradually became depressed, and the doctor eventually referred me to a psychiatrist. It took me a long time to get used to the noise. But I was no longer my former self.

Whenever I recall how I was injured, I am overwhelmed with regret. However, no matter how much I cry and beat my chest, there is nothing I can do.