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One thing I remember clearly was that I felt very swollen and bloated. When I saw my stomach, I almost felt like I looked pregnant so big was it. The doctor said it was because I was retaining fluid and that he guessed I had about 20 litres of fluid that had to be "drained". My hands and feet were so dried out that the skin was peeling even after my mom and aunt would massage them with cream often twice a day. I also remember that when the doctor asked where I had pain, I would only say my stomach. By this time my right arm, which had fractured, had healed after a pin had been put in. I had no strength to move myself not even sit up or turn on my side. Only 6 weeks after the plate had been put in my pelvis was I allowed to start attempt walking, which would only be in January.

On the eve of 13 Dec I had the first experience where I literally thought I was going to die. I had a dream and in the dream I was eating. Because in hospital I was constantly told that I am not allowed to eat or drink anything with the ventilator tube in my throat, I immediately wanted to pull out the tube in my dream. This is exactly what I did however it was no longer a dream. I struggled to breathe. Initally I did not realise that the tube was out as it was still in my mouth but I knew that i could not breathe properly. It was late at night and initially I could not see a nurse pass or when I did they did not see me wave. Eventually a male nurse saw my hand and came to me. He realised after a while that the ventilator tube was no longer in and as soon as he took it out of my mouth I immediately started to vomit non stop. He had to phone the doctor. The ventilator can only be put back in when I am sedated and had to be done by a doctor. It felt like hours before the doctor came. The nurses tried to use the manual pump to give me oxygen but I thought there was no hope. When the doctor came I was soon sedated and woke up the next morning with oxygen in my lungs!! It was a good feeling. I remember envying the nurses and people walking past who could so easily breathe and take it for granted and wished that I could have the ventilator out and breathe normally. The nurses loved drinking coca Cola and would walk by my room with a bottle of col Coca Cola sometimes even drinking in front of me. How I wished I could just have one sip!!

On 15 Dec I had my first CT scan. Up until then I had not yet had one. Now I know, I detest CT scan. As I mentioned before, Joburg hospital is a massive place with many different sections; however, Joburg Gen only has one CT scanner. So only at 10pm at night did I get to have my CT scan. The reason my first experience was so traumatic was because I was still on a ventilator and when they take you to the scanning room, on the other end of the hospital, the ventilator does not go with, only a pump that had to be manually pumped. For the most part I struggled to breathe. The nurses were not pumping the oxygen properly and sometimes I had to even pump myself. It was a horrible experience and when we got to the scanner we had to wait atleast half an hour. Not to mention that during the CT scan you have to hold your breathe, when I felt like I had no breathe to hold!!

About an hour after the scan when I was back in my safe haven, my ICU room, the surgeon who requested the scan, came to me and wanted my mom's number. Unfortunately I hadn't had time in between my mom's arrival in SA and then to memorise her new number. Obviously. He said they needed to urgently speak to my parents as I had to go for surgery first thing in the morning. He finally got hold of them somehow. I was not happy at all about the surgery's timing as the next morning, 16 Dec, was my best friend, Sune's wedding, where I was suppose to be a bridesmaid. My parents were gonna come in at 9am, before visiting hours, so that I could watch the wedding via skype.

The following morning my parents were at hospital very early and the doctors came round 8am to take me to surgery. In surgery they discovered that I had a ruptured intestine and that all my organs were covered in fetes. After the surgery, Doctor Motilal, my surgeon, told my parents that there is no hope for me to live and I would die in 48 hours. All my organs will start to fail one by one and I would die. My parents did not accept this as God had said differently from the start.

One of the symptoms of septicemia is a high temperature. This was very clear in my case. All I wanted constantly was ice. The nurses would bring me a bowl of ice and I would rub it on my forehead. When all the ice had melted I would pour the cold water over my head. The nurses did not like this as my whole pillow would be wet as well as my hair. Eventually the nurses refused to give me ice which made me very upset as ice was a distraction for me from the pain and also helped my temperature and my bruised eye. So I got my brother to smuggle ice into ICU for me. Eventually the head nurse, Nurse Hani, caught us smuggling the ice in and told us off strongly. Then one day when I caught doctor Tilley, the ICU doctor, on rounds I signaled for him to come. Through hand motions and my alphabet card I told him I wanted ice, he allowed me as much ice as I wanted as long as I did not burn my hands of the cold. The nurses could not refuse me anymore.