Survival Meant I Chose To Be Selfish

I was asked why I never said anything, why I didn’t tell anybody – why I chose to be selfish? I was and still am; not sorry.

I did what I had to do to keep me sane and emotionally stable. I did what I had to do for me.

Looking back now, I realised it was tough for me to process what had just happened. The mission was to start walking again, talking coherently and writing. I tried to get myself back to one hundred per cent Sadé, that was who I knew, and that was all that mattered. 

The helmet you see above was my friend – by force. Since a quarter of my skull was removed, my head was very vulnerable. It was my scalp and then my brain – no bone to cover that area, so I had to wear it anytime I stood up. It was my protector. I had to wear it for six months, and now, three years later, I still have it. It is a reminder of what I have overcome.

With God’s mercy, it all started happening very quickly. When I moved to the rehab hospital, fourteen days after the incident, I started walking independently. I didn’t have time for that bull sh*t. Of course, the prayers from family and friends and Gods protection allowed me to make so much progress; three months later I even celebrated my birthday in the hospital – it was a party! I don’t think I was allowed, but you know, God is my best friend, so he made it happen! 

When it became do or die for me

I always tell people I never cried about my injury whilst I was in the hospital or became depressed about my situation etc. They find it hard to comprehend, still confused as to why. I knew I was going to be better, so why cry over spilt milk? It made no sense to me. But, there was a day where things changed. I was discharged and back at home. That was when the day came along, and I did cry. That was the day when I decided to be selfish in my decisions. I wanted to survive, I needed to survive, so I chose that journey.

January 2018 it had been four months since the injury. I was seeing a speech therapist, going on little walks, learning to spell, I was even getting too excited and thought I could go out with my friends – with my helmet on. I had a doctors appointment regarding the results that came back from the angiogram. In simple terms, an angiogram is when they put a tiny camera through your large artery in your thigh and move it to the brain and look at the vessels to see what caused the problem from the inside. All was well, I was even excited to tell the neurosurgeon my good news of how far I had come – but he had a different story to tell me. 

Sadly, he told me I had another aneurysm growing on another artery. It wasn’t as big as the first one, but it was still a significant danger. I stared at him in complete shock. Today, I still feel the same emotion I did that day. It always feels like Deja Vue. 

Who was trying to kill me? Who did I offend or hurt? I was evidence of what God had done. And still, after all this progress, there was another issue just as bad. 

I broke down. 

The tears kept falling, and I couldn’t even take myself out of that point. It was too much for me to handle. I couldn’t act like things were okay anymore. Mentally I was on a cliff and wanted to fall. I had had enough. All I just wanted was to live my life in complete joy for once! I had gone through so much struggle in my life. Why couldn’t I have that?

I wanted to sustain happiness for a long time – for once. And even then there was still something that was trying to ruin that for me. I asked the doctor many questions through my tears, and the replies just felt like blow after blow. I had to have another surgery where they would clip the artery. As part of his job, he had to tell me the possible downside/side-effects, which included death. I did not want to hear it. My mum calmed me down, and the next thing I created space for, was to find out when this would happen. At first, he told me sometime in June. I laughed and said that was impossible – I did not want to walk around with the helmet for another six months. Complete error. 

In the situation, he was a gentleman. He made some calls and moved people around to create space for me. I was informed I would have the microsurgical clipping and cranioplasty on the same day in March. Once I knew the date, I checked out. For me, in a sense, it was now out of my head. I couldn’t think about it anymore. It was causing me anxiety; stress, doubts and was leading me to start questioning God. I did not have any space for that and I didn’t want to cause the new aneurysm to burst because of my stress, so I decided to forget about it. Only my mum and my fiancé knew; that was it. I decided to tell no one. I chose to be selfish – to save myself. Is that so wrong? I think not. 

From that day up until the day I had the surgery, I told no one, nor did I think of it when I was alone. Out of sight, out of mind. Survival was the only thing that kept me going. The only other day I thought about it was when I was in the hospital the night before the surgery. All the months of burying it came out at once. As someone that loves her sleep – I struggled that day and I still never told my friends about it. My mum messaged them to tell them I was in the hospital for the surgery; otherwise, they would have known the day I woke up and felt ‘normal’ again. 

What I learnt at that moment

Never take what you have for granted. Never abuse the fact that you are alive, well and able to do things which other people don’t have the freedom to do. As humans, we do this subconsciously; not intentionally, but it is what we do automatically – no one has ever questioned it. 

As a survivor, let me tell you from experience, be continuously grateful. We are incredibly fragile. Life and death are the two sides of a coin. Every day it is like a poker game of what side your coin will fall on. I get it; if you don’t experience it, you will never know. 

The reality came for me when I survived my brain injury and then had to deal with knowing there was another situation just as serious. It came to me when I chose to ignore what could have made me decline mentally and physically. It brought me patience and more peace. I became less argumentative; it taught me to live and let live. It taught me to forgive, delete things that you didn’t need, told me to stop fighting other people’s battles. I realised that you never know what could be waiting for you on the other end.

My coin was standing upright – I was in limbo, deciding which way to go. That shit is crazy as f*ck. Life is too short. Every time a second passes and you are still around, thank God. 

My mindset was to continue; it had to be positive. I always say crying and complaining about something you cannot change is a waste of time and energy. Use that same power into developing yourself. Use that same energy into finding different avenues to improve yourself. One day you will look back at your injury/sickness and say, ‘you tried it, but I am still going strong’. I am not saying it is an easy path, it is a humongous struggle, but the reward at the end it so much better.