I'm so grateful to my friends who prove to be more like family in times like these. They meet us as the hospital, take us out for lunch and to pick up medication before dropping mum and I off at home. These friends make living away from my own family bearable.
It's about five hours after the accident and mum and I are back home. We are sitting on the couch in silence. I haven't even opened my windows - which is the first thing I usually do when I get home. We are reeling from the past few hours. Mum doesn't say much, but she busies herself with the necessary admin that comes with such unfortunate events.
The sun sets over Sea Point, making my apartment dark and cold. As I take a hot shower and prepare for bed, I can't stop the movie playing over and over in my mind. It's black and white. Slow motion. The white car zigzagging downhill not knowing that it's going to hit me.
Crash!
...and it repeats.
I talk to my cousin who says something so profound that it brings me to tears.
"God has a lot more for you to do."
I say my prayers of gratitude and fall asleep.
The following morning, I am in a lot of pain. All over.
When I take a shower I catch a glimpse in the mirror. Half of my left breast is bruised. I find another bruise below my navel and another one across my thigh. I am grateful for these bruises as they remind me of the importance of a seatbelt and how it saved my life.
It's hard to believe what happened. The other driver told the cops that he was changing lanes and lost control of his vehicle, causing him to crash into me.
I refuse to spend time moping at home so mum and I take a bus (my first time) to the Waterfront. It's Sunday and I'm sure it will be busy, but I feel like I need to be outdoors and walking. However, I find that I am slow in movement and I am in pain everywhere.
I don't know why exactly, but I become emotional. Mum tells me that it's a normal reaction and she comforts me. I walk around the Waterfront, but tears stream down my cheeks as if uncontrollably.
Again, I say my prayers of gratitude that my mother is with me.
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My hired car arrives on Monday and in every phone call my dad encourages me to drive. He reminds me of the knocks I've taken in life and that this is something I can overcome in no time. I hope he knows how much his encouragement means to me.
When it's time for me to actually take to the wheel again, I drive on 20km and am weary of every single oncoming car. My heart races, but I don't show my mum that I'm nervous.
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I have the week off from work and I spend my days taking it easy and go for treatment. I decide to travel to East London with mum on Thursday and spend the long weekend at home. The pain in my body increases and my emotional state is that of a roller coaster.
I feel the need to be with my parents and the thought of being alone in my Cape Town apartment leaves me with a hollow feeling. I have no choice, but to return to the Mother City. I have to go back to work. I'm not entirely excited about returning, but I have no choice. Or do I?
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