With its off white walls, dreary and dull surroundings and the pungent smell of some godforsaken chemicals, the room felt excruciatingly depressing. I had to summon all my reserves of strength to keep my eyes open. But all I could see was medical equipment strewn around. With my arms and legs covered in plaster and me on a saline drip, it seemed as though I was fighting a losing battle with life.
As soon I held on to the bed to get up, I felt a shooting sensation in my arms. It seemed as though 10 needles had been inserted into my body without any warning whatsoever. All I could do was scream my lungs out for help. And almost immediately, a stream of doctors rushed into the ward to regulate my breathing which had spiralled out of control.
How had I reached a hospital? What had happened to me? Am I going to survive this? More than a day had passed without me even being conscious. The last I remember, I was flying to New York with my family. Despite my desperate condition, I was still trying to figure out the exact turn of events. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t realize someone else enter the room.
“Hi Matt. I am Adrian from the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB). The doctors didn’t want me to be here so fast lest you suffer a fatal attack. But the situation is so desperate that I need your help. I rushed into the room as soon as you gained consciousness.
You are the luckiest man on the planet right now. Surviving that sort of a plane crash with just minor injuries, you really got to be God. There were just 4 others who we were able to rescue from that ill-fated jet. But all of them are fighting for their lives.
I am not sure if you can hear me. But if you can, please tell me what happened that night on Rossia Airlines Flight 204.”