‘What happened to your hand?’, my friend asked me as he looked at a strip of new skin running along the inside of my wrist, six inches in length.

‘Remember my surgery?’, I respond casually.


The path to recovery after a traumatic ordeal is always challenging- one that teaches you a lot about yourself as a person and those around you.

There are days when I don’t remember the pain. These are usually the days when I don’t do anything. Most of the time however, especially when I am in the midst of my workout, , after a couple of pull ups, I feel the strain on my wrist- a reminder.

Over the past year, I have struggled with hair loss, inability to write my own exams, missing out on things because I could not risk it and being dependent on others for my transport. I could not run for 3 weeks, which was destructive for me considering how often I ran for my mental peace. More than anything, I could not do simple things such as eating, writing and taking a shower that are very much a part of our daily lives.

The red scar has faded now, a shadow of its former vitality- red, pulsing and sensitive(even painful) to touch. I recall the look of my fellow classmates as they saw 18 staple pins in addition to the internal stitches that my hand exhibited. It looked frightening. I thought it looked rather cool. The fact that I have a titanium plate inside my hand does not help. Metal that size is not supposed to be attached to a bone in your body. It is not natural.

Today, one year ago, I had my surgery for Kienbock’s disease, a surgery that was decided in a span of 4 days. I got diagnosed on Thursday and had it carried out on Sunday. It was the quickest, most bizarre thing I have ever instigated.

I look forward to the day when I can have the metal plate removed.

Then, I will only have my scar to remind me of what I’ve been through.


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