All I could see was the blinding whiteness of snow. It was eerily quiet until a frosty wind hit me and sent alternating sensations of sharp pains and dull aches through my entire body. The sound of the gust whirled by like a ghost. The intense cold was making my arms start to go numb. I was wearing nothing but a gown and wool socks, both of which had been dampened by the weather. Where was I? How did I get here? My disorientation was making me nauseous. I felt a forceful jab in the pit of my stomach – my body was alarming me that I needed to vomit. I took deep breath after deep breath until the discomfort subsided.

I fought against the pain as I struggled to wade through the heavy snow, which was about waist-high. I stumbled and stumbled, trying to gain my balance in the unsteady snow – but nature was unforgiving. For every successful step I took, I must have tripped three or four times. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized I was alone in an unforgiving sea of snow and a harsh bright blue sky as far as the eye could see. My cries for help were lost in the vast wilderness. I screamed at the top of my lungs with every fiber of my being, yet nobody heard me. Until you experience this, you do not really know what it means to feel alone.

I began desperately to look for anything familiar – anything to take me away from the white of the snow and blue of the winter sky. I summoned all my desperate energy to try to stand and run. I was able to gather a decent gait and must have made it 20 feet until I fell from exhaustion. Never underestimate how much energy and concentration it takes to run in snow – it’s as if your movements are all in slow motion, yet the effort of each step is tenfold. Nevertheless, I was determined to get somewhere – anywhere – even if I didn’t know where I was going.

I mustered up more energy and made another run for it. I was able to make it another 20 feet before I lost my balance and fell into the snow. I tried to use my arms to brace my fall, but they were so cold that I couldn’t get them up in time. Intense pain echoed through my body as I let out a scream. I began to cry as I realized that my efforts were being ignored by nature. The sudden urge to vomit returned, but I was able to quell it.

Despite my strides, I still could not see anything other than the snow and the sky. But I had hope – it was the only thing keeping me alive. My body was beaten, by voice was unheard, but my spirit refused to give up. I gathered myself again, taking longer than the previous two times combined. I was in the most pain I had ever been in – the kind of pain I would not wish upon anyone else. Starting to run again seemed like it took superhuman strength – the kind of strength needed to push a car off of someone who had been run over. I was able to get my first step on solid ground, then the next step, then the next step. Although I was making progress, I felt that I was inching closer and closer to death with each step, as if the grim reaper were waiting for me at my unknown destination. I hit stride after stride for what seemed like an eternity. I was going to make it to where I was going. Then, I heard a sudden pop. It felt like my legs had been taken out from underneath me. I collapsed to the snow-covered ground in throbbing pain. My ankle had swollen to the size of a tennis ball. I let out one more writhing scream.

Tears streamed down my face. I gave up. It was too difficult. I got nowhere.

As I looked up, I saw a red spot in the snow, about five feet in front of me. Even though I didn’t know what it was, it renewed a sense of urgency in me. I jolted towards it, not remembering that my ankle had just been sprained and possibly broken, sending a searing pain through my barely-live body. I crawled through the snow like a desperate swimmer towards the red blotch. When I finally arrived, I started digging frantically, hoping that whatever it was would provide an escape. With each scoop, my bare hands got closer and closer to freezing over. I could feel the life being frozen out of them. I felt a jab in my stomach again, but this time I gave in to the vomit. I burped out mouthfuls of blood.

There was a hand in the snow. It was a body. It was cold, but was it alive? I kept digging and digging, hoping to find an escape. There was a face. It was my face. I was staring at a dead body – and the body was myself.

I heard a constant beeping. I opened my eyes, but could barely see. I tried moving, but couldn’t. I was in a hospital room. I struggled to move and rattled the bed I was on, trying to desperately escape. Something was holding me down. I screamed.

A nurse rushed over to try to subdue me. I felt confined, just as I did in the wilderness.

“What happened? Where am I?” I pleaded to the nurse.

“You’re at St. Mary’s in Minneapolis,” replied the nurse.

“Did you save me from the snow? What about the other body?”

The nurse stared at me blankly.

“Ashley, you were T-boned by a drunk driver. We had to amputate your arms.”

I inched my sightline to the side, and I saw what I had feared – stubs where my arms used to be.

“There’s nothing we could do. We had to amputate. I’m sorry.”

I stared at the ceiling, which consisted of blue and white tiles.