"As the yak charged at me, I didn't know how to respond, and when it hit me, I couldn't process what had just happened. The pain was so sharp I had lost all hope of survival."

Sita Sherpa, 50, was hit in her belly by one of her own 90 domesticated yaks. The mishap ruptured her torso and exposed her intestines, which remained hanging out of her body for three days. A resident of Sankhuwasabha, she was left helpless in the remote but was brought to Kathmandu via helicopter and received treatment in the city.

"When she was hit, my wife cried for help. I rushed to her immediately, carried her to safety, and called for help in Kathmandu," her husband says. "I am eternally grateful to the doctors who saved her life."

Despite the delay because of the weather, Sita was safely brought to Kathmandu. The doctors finally operated on her; her surgery was a huge success. Luckily, only part of her intestine that was exposed had been ruptured, which prevented an already critical situation from worsening. But Sita was lucky in another respect: as someone from a remote village unknown to the impact of modern medicine, the antibiotics the doctors used on her worked like magic.

"I am so thankful to the doctors and truly blessed to be given this second chance to live," says Sita. "I had never thought my own yak was capable of such a thing, and this still shocks me immensely."

Sita's story hints at a much dire problem: one that animal rearers in mountainous regions of the country face every day and the risk that their distance from quality care puts them at. For her, both services and luck were at play, but for many, this is not the case.

In Nepali, "Aabhaar" means thankfulness. This painting depicts the patient's injury, her shock, and her thankfulness to the medical team that saved her life.

(The name of the patient has been changed to protect his identity.)