From Surgery to Sand: My Leap Back to Life

The invitation came from Mushtaq, a dear friend from Swat now settled in the UK. He welcomed us to Liverpool for a much-needed break — a chance to get out, breathe, and spend a day by the sea.

I was not expecting anything extraordinary. But what followed would become a memorable day in my recovery journey.

The Meal That Grounded Us

Before heading to the coast, Mushtaq had something else waiting for us: a feast.

We sat down to a dastarkhwan, full of flavour and care:

• Beef Pulao, warm and aromatic
• Haleem, slow-cooked and spiced just right
• Mutton Karahi, rich, tender, and full of flavour
• Baingan ka Burta, soft, smoky and earthy
• A bright, refreshing mint chutney
• Mango Lassi and Lemonade

It wasn’t just food — it was home. It was community. It was laughter.

And then we made our way to New Brighton Beach.

Unprepared, But Ready

I was not dressed for what was about to happen.

I wore traditional clothes — shalwar kameez, waistcoat — the kind of outfit you wear to visit friends, not to sprint barefoot into cold waves.

But that is the magic of life, especially in recovery:

The best moments often arrive when you are not prepared for them — but your heart is.

The sky was soft and grey. The sea called out. My friends were already in — running, jumping, laughing like boys who had been waiting their whole lives for this moment.

I stood still for a second, unsure if I should join.

Just eight months ago, something like this felt impossible.

After my acoustic neuroma surgery, I lost the balance nerve on my left side. Then came a stroke, which weakened my entire left side. There were days I couldn’t walk unassisted. Days I couldn’t even trust my body to get me to the washroom. Days where I feared that this dizzy, dependent version of me might be permanent.

But there I was.

Shahid, my friend, smiled at me and said:
“Come on, you have got this.”

I didn’t overthink it.
I just moved.

The moment that said: I am back.

I ran.
I jumped.

The cold water bit at my feet. My body lifted — just for a second — but enough to feel weightless again.
Not just in my legs — in my soul.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t as high as I would have wished. But it was mine.

And that was freedom.

A glimpse — just for a breath — of the person I used to be.
The one who chased mountains and seas.
The one who moved with purpose, not pain.
And for a moment — he was back.

The sand beneath my feet felt like a blessing.
It was a blessing.

Not long ago, I couldn’t even stand on my own.

Andrea’s Voice in the Wind

And then I thought of Andrea, my nurse.
Gentle. Kind. Steady.

She always said:
“You will be better.”

I clung to her words like rope during a storm.

And on that beach, in that wind, I felt her spirit say:
“See? I told you.”

That evening, I posted a photo on WhatsApp — just a mid-air jump, frozen in time.

Inam, my friend, replied:

“This… this is what an answered prayer looks like.”

And then:

“That photo could be the last page of your book – Whispers Through The Fog”

And he was right.

That photo didn’t just show movement — it captured a journey.
The pain.
The prayer.
The patience.
The quiet return of joy.

Chai and Cornmeal flatbread

When we returned, tired and glowing, Mushtaq served us again.

• Cornmeal flatbread, warm from the tabakhay
• Bitter/Sweet, strong chai

We sat in silence. The sea had said everything.

To the One Still Healing…

If you’re somewhere in the middle of your acoustic neuroma story — this is for you.

If you have just had surgery…
If your balance is gone…
If your hearing is altered…
If the world spins when you stand…
If you are tired of waiting for strength to return…

Let me say it clearly:

You are not alone.

I have been there.
I am still walking it. Still wobbling, still growing stronger. Still having moments of fear — but also of flight.

Healing doesn’t just happen in clinics.
It happens in:

• Friendship
• Bare feet on sand
• Unplanned jumps in traditional clothes
• Home cooked food shared with laughter
• And words that stick: “You will be better.”

So when your moment comes — even if you didn’t dress for it.
Take it. Jump.

And maybe one day, someone will look at your photo and say:
“This is what an answered prayer looks like.”

Because healing isn’t just recovery.
It’s rediscovery.

And today, I can finally say it — not in totality, not with every piece restored — but with something just as powerful:

I am back.
Not completely.
But the glimpses are enough.
Enough to remind me that I still carry strength.
Enough strength to live a life full of pleasure, presence, and purpose.