Misery at KK

I don't think I've ever felt so cold.
My entire body was shaking uncontrollably, my back ached severely from the pure effort of shivering, I was moaning with every breath I took, and wheezing as well. I couldn't seem to see anything clearly, and according to the two friends with me, I was blabbering nonsense as well.
That was around 4am, July 30, 2009, somewhere near the summit of Mount Kota Kinabalu, where we had reached after struggling in freezing rain and gusty winds for about three-ish hours.
The memories are still etched clearly in my mind.

The confident "hey, this isn't so bad" mood giving way to a dampening realisation that my trousers were thoroughly soaked by the rain and making me cold, so cold in the 50mph wind.
Staring down at the disappearing ring of light from my headlamp, and trying to follow every single step taken by Dawn just two steps ahead. Wondering, at the same time, if my loss of vision was due to the battery failing, the intense cold, spectacles fogging up, the mist that enveloped us - or if I was simply losing my mind.
Staring dumbly at the replacement headlamp kindly offered to me by the guide and not knowing what to do with it. Hesitantly touching it, only to hit the switch and see it go dark, and hear the guide groan in frustration.
Losing my balance on the wet rocks and taking one big step left, only to drop into a waist-height gully as a yelling guide jumped behind me to stop me falling further. Clambering up clumsily, with the last chuckle I would hear from myself over the next four hours.
Staggering after Dawn as she counted her own steps, and stopping every 50 with no small amount of relief whenever she paused, and wishing we would not go on.
Finding myself alone for a few panicked minutes, a few metres away from the white rope, yelling for the guide and realising he and Dawn were just to my left.
Wheezing, gasping, wheezing, gasping, thinking, "What an idiot I must sound like" - and not caring.
Standing amid some jagged rocks just 10m below the summit, staring at my shaking soaked gloved hands, whimpering to myself repeatedly, "I can't, I can't".
Looking up at Dawn and Cheng Wee shouting encouragement, but thinking, "Shall I hurl myself off the cliff to my right to end the pain, or curl up and lie down on this rock, and probably die from exposure slowly?" Then thinking, I can't die here, it's too painful a way to go, and from some sheer instinct, hauling myself up the last few metres, not caring if I broke anything in the process.
Reaching the summit to collapse over Cheng Wee's knees, cursing out loud and hearing him laugh. Asking him repeatedly if we had reached the top, and babbling something like "****, I'm going down now."
Feeling not a whit of emotion - never mind triumph - at summitting, and thinking only about heading down from the cold, while also wondering if I would make it back alive.
Staggering, stumbling dumbly, zombie-like after the guide over the bare rocks on the way down, wheezing all the way and whining to the guide repeatedly, "slow down, slow down, I've got cramps, I'm cold, ouch, ouch, slow down" while he skipped ahead to stop me from slowing down.
Putting both hands on his shoulders to stop myself from tripping as my lower calves and tendons kept cramping up, all the time gasping and whimpering from the cold, and wondering when the wind-blocking vegetation would ever appear at the misty horizon.
Glancing - but not appreciating - the expanse of bare rock before as the sunlight slowly filtered through the mist, and thinking somewhere in the recesses of my frozen mind, "hey, this would actually be beautiful if I were not dying".
Wondering why we were taking a different route down, because this actually looked manageable unlike the treachorous obstacle-strewn way up to the summit - and realising a day later that it was really the same route we had taken up.
Finally reaching the higher checkpoint, and stumbling the rest of the way down alone, wondering if I was heading the right way - or getting fatally lost. Repeatedly tripping and occasionally falling down en route, wondering at which point I would break something - and being surprised when I didn't. Perhaps my legs were too soft to break by now.

Go back again? Maybe.