Wrestling gave me the strength of mind to get out of death's hold

This First Person article is the experience of Semir Ali, who lives in Regina. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see  the FAQ . 

As a son of a refugee and a racialized person, I had always felt like an outsider growing up in Canada. But on the wrestling mats, the playing field felt equal.

I’d lace up my boots, lock eyes with my opponent and ready myself for battle. When the bell would ring, I’d seize wrist control and drive in underhooks, sweat dripping as I blasted through my opponent's legs and into a takedown — forcing him into defeat. Life made sense on these mats.

I was 17 when I began thinking about my future beyond the hallways of high school and dreamed of competing at a collegiate level. I felt invincible and bound only by my imagination.

I didn’t know then that just one gut-punching ache would mark the moment my life changed forever.

It was an ordinary December morning in class when I felt a sudden urge to visit the bathroom.

I quickly excused myself from class and made a beeline to the boys' room down the hall. Sitting on the toilet, I ruminated over what I had for dinner the night before. Was it a case of undercooked chicken? That was my best guess.

But what came next, I couldn’t explain: blood. 

During that winter break, I took frequent trips to the bathroom and also had serious cramping. My body felt like it was trying to explode from the inside, and all I could do was dry heave to defuse the bomb.

In the span of two weeks, I had lost 20 lbs. 

I was admitted to the Regina General Hospital in January 2014 and spent a week hooked up to machines. I received intravenous hydration, blood transfusions and an endoscopy.

I remember being wheeled from room to room, the