I May Have Missed the Maths Test but I Didn't Miss out on Life!

Every human existent has a story to tell, I mean, how can we not when life itself is a story? I too have many stories; the told and untold, stories without an ending yet, sad ending stories and happy ending stories.

On this edition of the hive learners weekly posting topics, we are to tell a true life story with a happy ending. And after searching through my mind archives of true life stories, I decided on this favorite one of mine. I know I've previously made references to it in few of my past blogs but I just realized I haven't actually written about in storytelling mode.

So, sit back, relax and let me tell you the full story about my near-death experience in 2017.

It was one Monday morning in November, 2017. I was asleep in the hopes of being awakened by an alarm I forgot to set. More amusing, it was Saturday in my dreams and I was enjoying the moment of having to sleep for as long as I wanted. Suddenly, I started hearing echoes of my Mom yelling my name; “Chidimma! Chidimma! Aren't you going to school today? It's 7:15 a.m”

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“School? Jesus! School!… Maths make-up test!“ I chanted like a mad girl as I sprung up from my bed, forgetting to say morning prayers or make my bed. Even my younger brother was still laying in his bed and I was supposed to be his alarm.

However, with the speed of light, I managed to get ready by 7:35, ate 5 spoons of rice and stew then at 7:45. Then, I stormed out of the house with my brother. For someone who hated Maths but not as much as red inks on her report card, my life depended on that maths make-up test which was to take place at 8:30.


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The distance from home to school was 45 minutes, that's if there was no traffic and the only way to get there was to cross the road and board a bus. Perhaps it was my fault for not double checking before jumping into that busy road of “fast and furious” cars, or the fault of that woman who drove recklessly in a rush to get to her son's school. But it wasn't the time for blames. The damage had already been done, my left leg was hit by her car right after crossing over to the raised concrete curb that demarcates the roadway.

And at that moment, I fell to the ground but quickly got up and dusted myself because I was unaware of what had happened to me, it was as if I went numb for a while. I wanted to believe I was okay and still in tact but the shouts and screams from onlookers jolted me back to sensitivity. That was when I looked down and lost my balance. I couldn't feel my leg anymore, all I saw was blood, my bone sticking out and more blood. Again, I went numb with shock but tears flowed. A lot of things were going through my mind, pathetic thoughts I'd say, but you can't blame me, I was only 14.

In the midst of the commotion, a Godsent hero came through and administered first aid to me. My fractured leg was tied to sticks with ropes for support and to minimize the bleeding. God! I felt the pains, severe pains. My parents were contacted and they arrived the scene almost immediately. Subsequently, I was rushed to the hospital for surgery. I really have no idea what the surgeon did, I just know that my bones were worked on, my cut was stitched and the fractured leg was wrapped in cast.

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During the few days of admission in the hospital, I was depressed, I tried to stay positive to no avail… I mean, I was grateful to God for saving my life, yes, but my overthinking got the better part of me. I kept thinking about the probability of being crippled for the rest of my life. I kept wishing it'd all just be a dream when I woke up but I kept waking to see that pink coloured cast on my leg.

After my discharge from the hospital, I went home to my family who were really of great support to me. They made sure I wasn't left alone to wallow in the mire of my condition. My mom particularly took really good care of me. When I was bedridden and unable to do things for myself, she was always there, she would pray for my quick recovery and cheer me up when I was feeling down.
My classmates and friends too were of good support and I was overwhelmed with love when they came to visit with gifts and cards. They told hilarious jokes and I found myself laughing again.

However, for 5 months, it was series of pain, doctor appointments, changing of cast, dressing and physiotherapy… yes, I was taught to use crutches to walk. Though it was frustrating, I learned the ropes real quick.

And as time progressed, I had a change of view about life, I experienced self-improvement and my thinking matured. My healing didn't come so quickly but it eventually happened; my bones finally healed up strongly. On the last day of my appointment with the doctor, my cast was removed and I had an x-ray scan. The reports came out positive and in excitement, I threw away my crutches because I had been waiting so long to do that. Stepping my feet on the ground for the first time in months felt weird, I was like a new born lamb learning to walk. But within a few days, I mastered stability again. Also, I was finally able to take a proper bath in the shower.

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Earnestly speaking, returning back to school and resuming my daily activities was the happiest moment of my life. A few years before now, I was in pains, depressed, bedridden and even depended on crutches but now my legs are straight and totally fine, I can walk, run and probably even fly. Of course, it can only be God!

I may have missed the maths test but I didn't miss out on life and that is the happy ending of my story 🤗.

THANKS FOR READING! ❤️