Accidents happen to me all the time – I play a lot of sports in Melbourne, where I am finishing a master’s degree and potentially storming towards a mixed netball grand final. I have broken my back, dislocated my kneecap, torn my groin and had appendicitis. But it was a piece of cereal that gave me my biggest scare.

I was 16, on a family holiday to Malaysia in 2015. My parents and I were staying at a resort in Kuantan on the east coast. It was just me and Dad at the buffet that morning; we were keen to wolf down a quick breakfast so we could reserve a spot by the pool before it got too busy. Dad grew up in Malaysia, so we used to visit quite often, and whenever I was there I would look forward to a nice bowl of Honey Stars. It was a tradition of mine.

They’re honey-flavoured, star-shaped pellets of sugary goodness – a treat for the growing teenager I was. I had them every morning of the trip the same way I eat any cereal: without milk. I never got on board the milk-and-cereal bandwagon because it makes everything too soggy, though soggy wouldn’t have been the end of the world, considering what happened next.

I was about a third of the way into an admittedly enormous bowl when suddenly, mid-mouthful, I felt an excruciating pain under my shoulder blade; it was as if someone had come up from behind and stabbed me. Within seconds, my moaning and groaning caused heads to turn. Dad kept telling me to pull myself together because half the resort was staring at us, but the pain wouldn’t let up, so I decided to head back to my room to try to sort myself out.

Walking back, I must have looked as if I had drunk 15 beers. I was trying to walk in a straight line but keeling over every few metres. Once I was in my room, I spent the next 20 minutes writhing about on the floor, until the pain stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Over the next week, I experienced shortness of breath going up and down stairs, and when I tried to hold my breath underwater, I would feel a little bit of pain in my shoulder.

I didn’t see a doctor because Mum told me our family had a history of adult-onset asthma, and my description of the pain sounded consistent with what had happened to a couple of my aunts when they first had asthma attacks. So we decided to sort out my asthma once we got home.

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Seven days later, while we were in Singapore, Dad went to hospital for an ear infection. I was still having spells of shortness of breath, so I tagged along. After an X-ray, the doctor discovered a piece of dry cereal had made its way into my lung and, to everyone’s amazement, caused a puncture. I experienced what is called a pulmonary aspiration, which is when you inhale something into your windpipe and lungs. The excruciating pain I had initially felt was the subsequent collapse of my lung. The pain subsided only after it had totally collapsed. Since that breakfast, I’d been breathing with one lung.

I was rushed into emergency surgery. My surgeon did his medical degree in Melbourne; he started telling me about how Australians are all “bred tough”. Before I knew it, he jabbed me with a long, corkscrew-shaped instrument. I immediately passed out. I woke up half an hour later hooked up to what looked like a tiny vacuum, which was slowly removing the excess air from my lung and reinflating it. I was stuck like that for five days.

After leaving hospital, I was required to wait a few extra days before flying home. Then the seriousness of what had happened hit me. I had flown from Malaysia to Singapore with a collapsed lung; the doctor said I was extremely lucky we didn’t hit a certain altitude, or they would have had to make an emergency landing to keep me alive.

Within a few weeks of arriving home, everything felt back to normal. Unfortunately, I punctured the same lung last month during a netball game. But this time, I got it sorted out straight away.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that if you feel something isn’t right, get it checked out. The experience hasn’t scared me too much, though: I still eat cereal without milk.

As told to Joseph Arthur

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