A shade of green grass, new fabric, a terrifying sound, an act of running, and a luminous haze.

I was in the eighth grade on that spring day of March 2015 when I finished my school homework and went for a walk in the neighborhood with my mother and aunts. I thought it was a normal day, but on that day my life has changed completely, changed irreversibly. The sound was terrifying – it was a shell! We all ran in the opposite direction of the sound, and when we stopped on the side of the street, I told my mother I couldn’t move my hand. I lifted the sleeve of my green sweater, and all the trapped blood gushed out, like a waterfall, a red waterfall attacking my green clothes. A large shrapnel from the just- fallen shell had pierced my hand.

Cars didn’t stop to help me. Fear and escape ruled the place. But my aunt didn’t give up; she threw herself onto a speeding car to force it to take me to the nearest hospital. My mind refused to comprehend what was happening. My vision became foggy with a luminous haze, and then I lost consciousness.

Was it a nightmare?

I opened my eyes to find myself on a hospital bed. Perhaps it was a dream, a temporary dream. I blacked out again, seeing the members of my family and my school teachers visiting me, coming close and moving away without understanding what was happening around me. When I woke up, they told me that the shrapnel had penetrated my hand, severing an artery and a vein. Doctors tried to repair the damage through surgeries, but the result wasn’t a complete recovery; there was a 30% disability in my right hand.

Doctors told me that my survival was a miracle. If it weren’t for my aunt’s desperate attempt to save me as quickly as possible, I would have died from heavy bleeding. 

I couldn’t believe them! I couldn’t believe that my hand would remain this way. It will heal, like my knee did when I fell while playing football. This wound will heal, it’s just a matter of time, and everything will return to how it was. 

Every morning I tried to move my hand, refusing to believe it wouldn’t return to its former state. I stayed home until the exams. I escaped, denied reality, hid from everyone, and felt I was done. I distanced myself from society for four years, during which I felt like a dead person, studying a little and living without any motivation.

But can a sentence change my reality? Words don’t completely change, but they ignite a dormant spark within.

That’s what happened to me while watching a motivational TV program titled “We Can Do It.” The host said, “Don’t wait for society to fit into you; fit yourself into society.” A simple sentence made me realize that I could try. I committed to physical therapy for 3 years, accompanied by a ball and a rubber band; my daily therapeutic tools. I felt that small ball became part of my continuous journey to score goals against adversities.

Academically, I gave my utmost before the high school exams, studying 16 hours a day, and trained my hand to write with a specific technique. Would the exam defeat me? No; I wouldn’t allow it.

I was never among the top students throughout my school years, but I had decided to unleash all the energy within me. Indeed, I achieved almost a perfect score. I was happy, proud, and believed in my abilities for the first time. That confidence allowed me to control myself and reject suggestions to study pharmacy. Instead, I chose medicine. I loved it and believed I’d succeed, regardless of what was said about the difficulty given to my hand’s impairment.

University was a completely new beginning. Studying medicine helped me understand the muscles of the hand, finger movements, and where each vein and artery runs. I even overcame the embarrassment of my disability, openly sharing my story. Accepting my hand’s condition paved the way for numerous friendships. I found myself in extracurricular activities, volunteering, tutoring, and camping in nature with many. I believed that everyone has a key to unlock their potential and must find it to overcome their challenges.

Competition is my key, which I realized when considering what motivated and helped me. 

In the past, watching football was an escape from facing society, but it gave me the key to my breakthrough. I want to win against everyone who doubted my success and capabilities. I want to win by excelling despite challenging circumstances, to specialize in radiology, to become an inspiring, supportive, and accessible university professor, and someday to improve my hand’s usage to play the Oud amidst those whom I love.

In this war, we are all wounded. I lost part of my ability to move my hand. Others lost their legs, education, homes, futures, or families. We all suffer, but we never give up on winning life’s matches.