This is why I started this blog and this is my journey.
When I was seventeen(17), I had my life already planned. After school I was going overseas to start working with cars. But that wasn’t what life had planned for me.
I was out riding with some friends, not on my horse, he was still not ready to bee ridden so much (age 4). I had the pleasure to ride this old gentleman (age 27), he meant the world to me, he was a safe horse, someone you could trust, he always looked after you.
We had a wonderful ride. Then came our gallop, we were in the middle of three(3) other horses.
There have been rumours, accusations and the most difficult I’ve been blamed for what happened. I may have been young, but I sure wasn’t stupid!
In the middle of the gallop my friend had an heart attack (I didn’t know it then) so he started to wobble, I don’t know anything about this only by saying, I tried to make him go straight. He threw me off, I got unconscious, he didn’t have so much power left so he wobbled a few steps and then collapsed on top of me. The only thing that wasn’t covered up of his body and weight was from my knees and down. Like dad says ‘he had the entirely universe to collapse on, but he did it on my daughter’.
Luckily I had the other two girls with me, so the smallest one jumped up on the second bigger horse and rode up the big farm, while the other stayed with me and the alarm station, 112(911), this girl who rode to the farm, she got this horse up the stairs to the front door!
Amazing, that they went up the stairs, not an easy thing with a horse who has never done anything like that. It only shows that horses also have a sixth sense, ours.
You read correct I got an 700kg horse on top of me. He didn’t mean to collapse on me, but he did. The girls tried to get him to rise himself again, but he had no powers left. He fell down again for his final sleep. (I can’t write without shedding tears for this loving horse, I miss him!) The firemen + some others, from the farm, had to lift him of me, they were 7 men. 700kg isn’t something you just lift.
The ambulance arrives when they’ve got my body free. I had the colour of black/purple, my heart was on its final beat. I was in a deep coma for 20 days. I was in a critical shape, they didn’t know if I was ever going to wake up. I was in an experiment, were they put in a catheter in your thigh and slowly cools you down to 33°c. They pumped me with anaesthetic and morphine. This was a way so the organs and brain would be intact, so no further damage would occur. Thanks to this proceed, I’ve been able to get well so fast.
I woke up 20 days later and the amazing part is that my whole family was there. I couldn’t speak, walk, or breath properly. I was partly paralysed from my waist and down, my right arm was totally dead. I had no muscles left, it didn’t felt like my body. I was weak. I couldn’t do anything without help.
Imagine yourself from an healthy, strong young girl to just lay in bed tired and not knowing what would happen to you. I moved away from home when I was sixteen(16) and I had learned to manage myself and here I was one year later and I couldn’t even talk! I didn’t know who I was..
Before I left the hospital, two months later, I was told what had happened. All I could hear was that my friend was dead. After that information, I fell in an depression for the loss of a hero, my hero. I moved from the hospital after only 2 months, which the doctors didn’t have in mind for me. I was supposed to bee there until school started or even longer. But I gave them an aha experience instead.
I moved to an rehabilitations centre.
My arm started to slowly wake up, that pain!
Everything about that centre was pain, but like they said ‘when your in here you hate us, but later you’ll be thankful for have been here. I couldn’t have said it much better my self. I didn’t stay over there for long either. Every week they had an schedule for what I should do in that week, well I broke that schedule in just 2-3 days. So after a few weeks, the skipped the schedule and they took one day at a time. Before I left that place, I could walk a few steps again.
Finally back home too my beloved animals, family and did I mention my animals. Back at home was hard, I couldn’t walk up the stairs, I had to use my wheelchair from A to B and vice versa. I worked on the steps everyday until I figured out that I could crawl up. Three(3) steps for me was like all the steps in the triumphal arc. Imagine how long that would take for me, it went a little faster when I crawled. It wasn’t until five(5) years later that I could start live like I used to. I got my driver licence when I was twenty(20) instead of eighteen(18).
Moved out…again…moved home again…moved out once and (hopefully) for all again.
I ain’t going to bore you with my problems with the society, people, myself, friends, relationships, money issues, surgeries, mood, tears, fights, not knowing.. All that would just make you feel bored, irritated etc. This story isn’t finished, but it’s a very heavy story I’m writing. I can’t make it write itself, this is a little part for my recovery and my ideas for my book.
I only need some help with my biography. Hope you could get some information of what I’ve been through. I wanted to write more about what’s happened to me after hospital and more about my fight against myself and the world.
Sincerely the starter of this project named Fighting for Acceptance,
The one and only, Elin<3
Fighting for Acceptance 