Five Years Later : The Trauma

It’s been exactly five years since I almost lost my life to hemothorax (punctured lung).

With regards to this, I would like to share a more personal story, from my point of view. If you are new here, let me introduce myself. My name is Rina and I survived a gruesome near-death experience exactly five years ago today. I was repeatedly stabbed to the chest, one stab to the hand and two to my back. This is a story that my friends have heard countless times (too often, I must say) and can probably tell the story better than I can.

I’m not gonna go in-depth on how it went down—that should probably be a separate post or better yet, just ask any of my friends. What I’m about to tell today is truly how it changed me soon after. I rarely talk about this. Not even to my close friends because who likes to feel naked about the vulnerable side of them, am I right?

Here goes nothing.

It was right after they stitched me up. 14 stitches all together. I tried opening my eyes but I felt so weak. I managed to only open for a few seconds and I fell back to sleep. What felt like 3 seconds was actually two hours. I was awoken again because I heard loud chitter chatter around me but I couldn’t catch what they were saying. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw a group of photographers and journalists leaving my bedside.

But then a photographer realized that I had woken up and within a blink of an eye, my bed was surrounded by a group of photographers and journalists. It felt exactly like the moment right before I was stabbed all over again—being ‘ambushed’ before I could even make up the ambusher’s face, while being subconscious.

Flashes after flashes. I couldn’t even see their faces! “Who are these people? Why are they standing so close to me? Are they trying to pin me down again?” Multiple microphones were shoved at me. I was scared, I wanted to push them away, I wanted to cry but I was weak. Allah, I wanted to cry so badly; I wanted to scream for my parents, my friends, but I was struggling to even breathe. This went on until a security guard came in and shoo-ed the press away.

When visitors and the press came, I was asked this question over and over again: Awak ada trauma tak lepas apa yang jadi? And most of the time, I’d reply with a ‘no’ or make something up because I knew that deep down, they didn’t really care about if was traumatized or not. They just wanted a story to tell. They just wanted more juice to tell their classmates or colleagues. They may sympathized me but they never empathized me. Hundreds of people came to visit me but among those, only two people came up to me and said “Rina, if you need to seek professional help, psychiatrist or therapy, let us know”

Two. Only two of hundreds of visitors offered psychological help for me. And because I was very shaky and fragile, I declined. Oh how I regret it to this very day. I wouldn’t be suffering till now if had taken up that offer kan?

For a few months after the incident, I was very scared every time a person approached me. I couldn’t sleep longer than 30 mins every time I fall asleep—I would wake up to myself shaking. I lost so much weight drastically (which I have successfully gained back)

Back then, I opened up to someone about this ‘trauma’ and he ended up triggering it, thinking that it was somewhat funny. He hid in a corner behind a bouquet of flowers, covering half his face and stalked me for a few minutes. Little did he know that he left me shaking for my life. I couldn’t sleep. I cried myself the whole day.

Till this very day, I still shake when someone runs next to me or towards me because it reminds me of the moment the attacked jumped onto me before pinning me down. So please don’t make fun of this.

Till this very day, I still get nightmares and wake up in the middle of the night, scared if someone is going to come and kill me. That’s why I always prefer talking on the phone till I fall asleep or holding someone when falling asleep. So please don’t make fun of this.

This is the story that the press then would love to hear but honestly, I needed my privacy too.

Wow, it’s unbelievable that I’ve been able to keep this to myself for five years.