Thoughts from the Fall

A little over a year ago, on 5th February 2024, just a few days before Lunar New Year, I had a bad fall that could have killed me.  Obviously it didn’t, otherwise I would not be here writing these words.  I will not go into details of what happened.  But I do want to share some thoughts that came from it, since I have been asked about it recently.  

Essentially, I slipped and fell down a flight of stairs, outside but near PolyU campus. In the process cracking open my forehead, probably on the sharp edge of the stairs.  When I stopped falling, I didn’t quite know what happened, whether I was dead or alive, or even where I was. The first thing I was conscious of was that my head hurt terribly.  Then my hands felt wet and sticky.  I opened my eyes, and saw a big pool of blood.  And I groaned internally: “Oh, no!” I heard someone cried: “So much blood!”  Another: “I can see the bones!”  What does that mean?  Did I crack open  my skull?  Or simply that the skin was cut, exposing the bones underneath?  At that point, I realised I probably wasn’t dead, because I could hear and feel.  I could even move my hands and feet, even though they both hurt.  I might still die, but not yet.  

An ambulance came, a medic wrapped my head in white gauze, and got me to the emergency room at Queen Elizabeth Hospital, where my wife was waiting already. I got scanned right away.  Then we had to wait for 3 hours before being told the results.  In the meantime, I took the delay to mean that they had more urgent cases to take care of, that it meant that my case wasn’t that serious, that my skull was probably OK, that they would soon sew up the wound in my forehead and I could go, …  However, my wound was probably not properly cleaned yet; if they took too long, the wound could get infected; the skin could shrink and dry up and make it difficult to sew up; what if a big gap opens up? … 

More than 3 hours later, I was told that they were afraid there might have been a crack in my skull, that they want to X-ray my head again to be sure.  What?  What does that mean?  Was that a clean crack?  Were there fragments?  Did some fragments get inside my skull?  Did they have to open up my skull?  That plunged me and my wife into another terrible crisis.  Fortunately, the X-ray was quick and so was the result.  No crack.  

Now they could sew me up.  By then at least 6 hours had passed since my fall.  What was the state of my head?  It turned out they had no operating theatre, and the sewing up was done in a storage room, where one of the light fixtures had just fallen off the ceiling.  I was staring up directly towards the bare fluorescent tubes while they sewed me up.  The wound was so big, the young female doctor wasn’t complexly sure how to do it, and had to consult a more experienced doctor on the phone before she sewed me up.  Before that, the skin of my forehead had to be peeled back to clean underneath.  The doctor and the nurse that assisted her were very kind and careful, telling me at every step what they were doing.  So I felt kind of safe, although still very nervous.  Despite the local anaesthesia, I felt the needle, every pull and pinch, particularly when the doctor pulled the thread through my skin, pulled the threads tight and then tied the knots.  1, 2, 3, …, a total of 16 stitches.  I keep trying to relax while they sew me up, taking deep breaths, flexing my fingers, etc.  But I guess I wasn’t very successful.  When they were done, my body was soaking wet with sweat.  After that, the long recovery, which was not completely unpleasant.  Soon afterwards, what is left is a scar shaped like the Lion Rock.  

Many thoughts came to mind, then and afterwards.  Why did a simple fall turn out so badly?  A near-death experience, so much blood, and 16 stitches instead of a sprained ankle?  On the other hand, the forehead is probably where the skull is the thickest.  If I have to hit the sharp edge of a concrete step in the staircase with some part of my head, the forehead is probably where the damage would have been the least.  Imagine, instead of my forehead, it was my eye, nose, mouth, cheek, …., that hit the edge, …, I shuddered to image what might have happened.  

I have been reasonably fit, for my age.  I run regularly.  I have run the full marathon many times, until 2019. I travel quite a bit, mostly for work.  I am still working, way past retirement age for our university.  I do not expect to live to a hundred. But I also did not expect to die anytime soon.  So what was God trying to tell me with the fall?  Perhaps to not take for granted being alive and well?   Perhaps to be careful when I go down the stairs?  Or even walking on level ground?   

My wife like to think God is telling me that my work is this world is not finished yet.  I am way beyond retirement age.  Most of my friends, old classmates, at my age are retired.  Playing golf, taking boat cruises, travelling, taking photographs, doing voluntary work, eating good food, playing with grand children, taking it easy.  Yet I am still working practically full-time, and more. Travelling for work, a lot.  

I enjoy my work.  I am truly passionate about service-learning.  It integrates perfectly my faith and my professional career.  I team up with people who share my passion.  I get to know so many people from across so many countries who look so different from me  who share my passion.  What I do enable others to pursue their dreams.  We can see that what we do create real benefits for people in need. And we learn so much from them.  I  know I enjoy learning - that is why I love reading.  We nurture in our students compassion and a sense of social responsibility.  We work closely with many organisations of faith.  The Gospel is good news for the whole person, not just to make people believe in God.  I feel I cannot ask for a better job.  Perhaps that is God telling me that my job is not done yet.  That He wants me to work on it some more.  I will assume that is the answer until He tells me otherwise.