They take me out of the ambulance. They shake me a bit, but with all these drugs running into my veins, I cannot feel a thing. The doors open, I feel like I’m flying on my bed. On the ceiling, the neon lights are running on the opposite direction, just like in a movie.

They put me in the 3rd compartment. Above me, a sticker which reads: “Fast track 3”.

The doctors arrive, they ask me questions again. I give them answers, but with no real belief. They talk around me, they exchange point of views on my case like if wasn’t there. "Hey, Ho, I’m alive" !

They move me again. New corridors, new neon lights. I have no idea where I am, or where I’m going. My brain switches off every two minutes. It’s a succession of blacks and whites.

I arrive in the trauma emergencies.

I finally manage to stand a bit on my arms. I look at my leg. I think: “It’s not a knee, it’s a footy ball ! Holy sh*t my knee”. I’d like to cry, but I already know I’ll have to be strong in the coming hours.