The terrible sliding stopped, and I hung silently against the slope. Three faint tugs trembled the taut rope, and I hopped up on to my leg. A wave of nausea and pain swept over me. I was glad of the freezing blasts of snow biting into my face. My head cleared as I waited for
the burning to subside from my knee. Several times I had felt it twist sideways when my
boot snagged. There would be a flare of agony as the knee kinked back, and parts within
the joint seemed to shear past each other with a sickening gristly crunch. I had barely
ceased sobbing before my boot snagged again. At the end my leg shook uncontrollably. I
30 tried to stop it shaking, but the harder I tried, the more it shook. I pressed my face into the snow, gritted my teeth, and waited. At last it eased.

How does the writer use language to describe how he feels