It was similar to any other weekend morning that I had, where I would have to drag my ever so reluctant body out of bed before my mom would start making noises and comment on how sloppy and unhealthy I am for not being up bright and early. Who wakes up at 9am on a Saturday anyway?
So anyway after managing to persuade myself to get up, I sat by the side of my bed and immediately I noticed this sharp stabbing pain on the right side of my chest. Like when somebody gives you a nice hard punch to chest but the pain is slightly sharper and it had a throbbing feeling to it too. I thought to myself, so it’s one of those rare days where I happened to wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something. Oh well, hopefully it’ll go away as I soon as I get my body warmed up to get through the day. That’s what I thought, but what happened next was completely out of my expectation.
By noon I was already grasping at my throbbing right chest while I gasp desperately for air and wince in agony simultaneously. My mom said enough was enough and decided to rush me to the nearest hospital’s emergency room to have me diagnosed. As soon as I stepped past the automated sliding doors, the nurses’ reactions were swift because as soon as they saw me, from my facial expressions they literally could feel the pain I’m experiencing, so they then immediately whisked me to the doctor’s office to be consulted and diagnosed. The doctor said he couldn’t detect the source of all the pain I’m experiencing just by using his stethoscope and the other simple instruments that he has, so he suggested I go for an X-Ray to clarify my problem, which is not a good sign.
As soon as I got my X-rays taken, I was told to wait obediently at the reception area while I silently groan on the inside till the results were ready. Thankfully, the results were out pretty swift, but I don’t think it was because of their efficiency, but more towards the critical condition that I was in. I was rushed back into the doctor’s consultation room again, and with a stern look, he gave me the results which I was ‘eagerly’ waiting for.
To put it simply, I ruptured my right lung; like how a balloon would if you were to poke it with a needle. The pain was not from the hole in my right lung like how I thought it was, but instead it was caused by the air that I breathe in leaking into my chest cavity through the literally miniscule hole which would subsequently create a pressure in my chest cavity that would push my organs against each other, hence the agonizing pain. That’s as simple as I can put it.
I won’t elaborate on it any longer because it’s already starting to become painstakingly slow and boring. But that is how and why I no longer can go scuba diving anymore, even though it has been 4 years since the incident happened.
Not to say that I can’t dive though, it’s only a matter of whether I make it back up to the surface alive or not.
Maybe I’ll be keen enough to place my life on the line in exchange for doing something I’m madly passionate about.
Who knows?
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