I
was trying, unsuccessfully, to keep my panic in check,
one stroke at a time, breathe deeply, nothing will
happen, sooner or later I will make it to shore. My
blood pressure was escalating to its outer limits
and my heart was bursting out of my chest. I was fighting
against the current and against pure fear. Coming
back to shore was completely different than swimming
out. Swimming out was easy.
There
is a construction site further down river; they are
building some type of river walk on the outer side
of the immigration pier and it was there that I saw
my salvation. It was a metal cable that was attached
to a concrete embankment at the far end and to the
shore on the other. That cable was like a good Samaritan
appearing from out of the wilderness. I braced myself
and, one stroke at a time, slowly I edged toward the
cable. The pressure of the water was increasing and
my energy was draining. I had to make it to the cable
before the current pushed me beyond it. There was
nothing else to grab. Progress was slow. My breathing
was fast and hard and my legs were beginning to cramp.
Finally, it was near and I reached out and was able
to grab the cable.
It
was at this point, cable in hand, and holding myself
aginst the current, that I was able to fully feel
the immense force I was dealing with. I had to pull
myself forward along the cable and I accomplished
this by pulling myself hand over hand along the length
of the cable. The process was slow and strenuous,
but swimming, by comparison, was a futile effort.
Pulling myself along the cable one arm at a time was
like reeling in a 200-pound fish. The current made
each pull a great exertion. I would pull myself along
briefly, then rest and take a few breaths and then
start again. Slowly I made it closer to shore.
Call an Ambulance |
Eventually
I reached the muddy bottom and I felt safe again.
I dragged myself up and looked at the sandy hill I
had to climb to reach the road. It was just a small
hill but it felt like a mountain. My heart was still
pounding and my skin was flushed red with exhaustion.
I crawled, I didn’t climb up to the top. I just
wanted to lie down. But there were crowds of Thai
people looking at me and I couldn’t loose face.
I struggled to retain a shred of dignity as I walked
along. My objective was no longer to swim to Laos,
it was now to try and walk upright without crumpling
over on the side of the road. After about seventy
five meters, I reached the Thai immigration pier and
I found a grassy spot. I vomited copiously.
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