It feels like I won the lottery

🍁Chacha Jaramillo✏️✍🏻
4 min readFeb 23, 2022


-money can’t buy this

My wish, let me anyone else’s dream was to win the lottery. In my case; I did win it. I gained a lot of friends, met new friends; I’m happy.

I got married, had a good job, have a wonderful, responsible kid.

We both worked hard and saved as much as we could to afford a house.

We had a goal in mind; a challenge to solve, a motive to live.

We were young; nothing could stop us.

Yep – that adrenaline that runs high; we can solve any problem, nothing is gonna stop us now.

Migrating to a new country; at a young age was a very exciting idea, almost like being owner of my own destiny. I’m fact, anyone is the owner of its own destiny.

Very few have the privilege of landing in a country that offers peace of mind and a great opportunities of being successful, no sweat, no tears.

Opportunities came , opportunities went. Some sad, some happy, some exciting; like a roller coaster, started with a big push( many turns, no brakes. My eagerness to learn everything never allowed me to give up.

I look at mistakes and failures as a experienced in life, some stronger than others, some with no life in it, like a dessert. No life to save, no fruit of labour to harvest. Not everything comes served in a gold plate; I remembered listening when I was young.

But I was stubborn, resilience, a gift or a spell, it knocked at my door.

I welcomed it.

The day I was admitted at the hospital, everyone thought I had lost my mind, yelling and. screaming like a schizophrenic, hallucinating I was injected 6 different times that night, another one one. Whatever sedatives they used on me that night it lasted a couple of hours, it came to a point it was becoming dangerous. After a rough night, I started to calm down.

I don’t have a recollection of what really happened.

My last recollection?

I was complaining about a back pain.

That night I had chicken soup but wasn’t that hungry to eat it.

I remember when I woke up I was laying on a hospital bed.

Before that, I remember having some soup. Had a back pain. I was always suffering very strong pulsating migraines.

That’s all.

I vaguely remember my husband telling the doctors and nurses, that he has won the lottery, having met me, getting married to a very strong willed woman he could’ve ever met; that always made him happy.

For him I was his lottery.

He was supper happy to have met me and to have a kid lovable and responsible.

In deed, both of them are.

Without their support, I would not have been here writing this story and others to show people everything is possible, and never to give up.

I still remember and I still lingers in my head and thoughts, the comments I heard from doctors I was never ever going to walk by myself. Having a stroke did have produced damages to my body.

For sure their experience told them I was never ever going to walk again.

I was 50 at that time.

I couldn’t accept it.


I remember sitting in a wheelchair and being pushed by my husband along the corridor, to the hospital garden for a change of scenery. I remembered on my way back rolling by some other patients, having a lost look, not knowing what was going on with them, although very well taking care of, their will to continue living was slowly dissipating, evaporating, through their fingers and no one to help and stop it.

I could read the fear in their faces,

Abandonment was their scape to such pain.

Nope; I thought, not yet.

To get out of bed, four nurses have to come to help me get out of bed.

And I only weighed 50 kg.

I enjoyed being lifted by a hoist, but deep inside something kept grinding my thoughts. I need to be free. Hard one. How?

I was taught how to turn to grab the side bed rails to get up. Sit up on the bed side, then move to the wheelchair.

I had to learn how to walk, like babies, I had a walker.

For adults.


I pushed hard to learn to walk.

I succeeded.

I went through a lot of physical therapy to gain mobility in my muscles, that paid in the long run.

I got discharged from the hospital after a year and a half of continuing therapy.

Now I’m at home.

I walk with a blind stick.

I take long walks with my husband and son.

I write stories hoping to inspire many or maybe one individual to pursue their hopes, never give up.

Maybe I was lucky.

Maybe God gave me a second chance to tell everyone everything is possible and achievable with love and prayers.

Maybe that’s the reason why I was given a second chance.

After 25 years together, still feels like I won the lottery.



🍁Chacha Jaramillo✏️✍🏻

Hello everyone!👋I found writing helped me cope with anxiety and mental health. My stories relate how resilience helps you with overcome life’s obstacles♉️