Have you ever got hurt? I think hurting is just a stimuli. Your reaction to it. You get used to that. Pain. You can get used to pain. You can adjust to it. You can adjust to pretty much anything. Just as long as there's routine, right?

Routine. Human mind, it craves it. Needs it. But if you take that away, that's when you start to lose your shit.

When you take away day and night. No signs, no patterns.

You know what's even more crazy?

Even though you know what's happening and you try rationalizing, it won't do any better.

People think that torture is pain. It's not pain. It's time.

It's time to slowly realize that your life, it's going to be over.

It's over. Now all you got is the nightmare. Time to think of it, over and over again in you head. You and me, we got time.

I was never hospitalized during the time I was in India, but as I moved to Australia my health started deteriorating with nephropathy, gastropharesis and anxiety.

March 2016, I was working as a restaurant manager at the Grand Pavilion. One fine evening, I finished work and came home. I had my dinner and was trying to sleep.

I couldn't shut my eyes, and started feeling anxious. I had trouble breathing. I started having a bad nerve about it. It went on for an hour or two. I kept strolling around the house, feeling restless.

I couldn't sense my levels dropping, nor did I check as I just had my dinner. I looked out the window. It was pitch black.

There was no one else in the house. An eerie feeling was gradually taking upon me. I felt like calling for an ambulance, but then I thought against it as I wasn't sure if will cause any troubles for my visa or if my medical insurance would cover it or not.

The only person who came to my mind to call was my boss, as he knew everything about my medical conditions. I explained it to him about what was happening he said he will come over.

While I was waiting for him, luckily Rachael showed up at home.

She saw me half laying on the stairs, holding my stomach as I felt it was burning from the inside.

I couldn't stand the pain and I was having trouble breathing. She asked me what was wrong, as I tried explaining her, I was repeatedly going out of breath.

She hugged me and sat beside me, while my boss showed up.

He had already called up an ambulance to take me to the nearest hospital. Not long after, I could see the red and blue tint of the ambulance lights approaching on my Window.

They took me in and checked my levels, I was 2.9mmol/L.

They gave me a Glucagon shot and took me to the hospital. I was just laying on the stretcher and kept looking up. Random thoughts kept crossing my mind, as we approached the hospital.

They transferred me on another stretcher as they carried me inside. I could smell the familiar iodoform smell of the hospital. I was never too fond of it.

They put me on a drip and gave me a sandwich to eat. Finding a vein was like finding a needle in a haystack, repeated needles does that to you. The nurse tried both my arms and couldn't find one, so then he tried the back of my hand finally got one and put a cannula in.

Rachael sat next to me talking to me all this while. I asked her to go home as she had just came home from work when she found me in trouble.

Shaker, my boss stayed for couple of hours and then left. I was kept overnight at the hospital, by myself.

My levels kept dropping again during the night, and the nurse got me orange juice and a sandwich.

At some point, I finally drifted to sleep and in the morning when I woke up, my levels were 18.3mmol/L.

It was one hell of a night with my levels going on a freefall from normal to low, back to normal and then back to low again and then alarmingly high.

The next afternoon, I couldn't take it anymore. I was begging for the doctor to discharge me as the boredom was hurting me more than the needles. I desperately wanted to be out of there and go back to work but Shaker made me take a few days off work so I could recover.

Little did he knew, I needed to get out of the hospital to recover.

Work helps me take my mind off my ailment. I had to be off work for a week.

After a week, I called my parents, and I told them what happened to me as I didn't tell them while I was still at hospital.

I didn't want to worry them while I am alive and fine. My parents were worried for me but they did understand why I didn't call them sooner. That was my first memoir being hospitalised and being there just by myself. I wouldn't call it the best feeling ever, but being there laying on my bed, I had no phone connection or Internet, just a small room, and myself.

That gave me enough time to think and reflect upon my life, and my actions.

I could think about what are the things I wish I had done earlier, and the things I'd wish to do when I get out of the place.

So how did it go for me in there ? I told nobody about my fears, but when I was carried in for the first time, I did not want to be there, the one who distracted my boss, and my parents from their routines, just because I felt weak.

After all these years, I feel lucky to be here, and to be able to share these experiences with you.

To the readers, I'd just suggest, hold no regrets. Go out there, do it!

Life is too short to be holding dreams in your heart, while you could be out there and follow what your heart says. We just have one life, It's all about what you make of it!