I cycled across Europe. I swam across rivers and seas. I ran up and down mountains.
I was fit.
I was healthy.
I was laying flat on my back in the hospital where they wanted to keep me on bed [ar]rest for six weeks with a catheter shoved up my…
We chilled on the beach and had an evening braai.
We did a morning Table Mountain expedition.
Our family reunion was only three days long, we had to cram in as much awesome as possible and were headed straight from there to wine tasting.
I ran down the mountain with my little big brother.
It’s an exciting run made even more stimulating when your shoes have no grip.
We followed the tar mac to the cable station.
And that’s when I stumbled.
And while my legs failed to catch me, my face did.
The uber arrived to take us to wine,
We went to the hospital instead.
I couldn’t walk.
Doctors. Nurses. Doctor. Stitches.
More nurses. Another doctor.
A CAT scan.
My brothers breezed in and out of the emergency room,
Casually contacting my medical insurance to make sure I could afford to breath the hospital air.
I’d arrived in hospital with nothing but my smelly mountain clothes.
Not even a phone.
Turns out I had real insurance.
Even if I only took it out in January…
(Thank you again AJ for making me get my act together!!)
Everyone was friendly.
Everyone had a sense of humour.
So they should have been joking when the doctor told me I’d fractured my hip and probably needed surgery.
I might be wise. I may be mature.
But a broken hip was about fifty years premature!
That’s when I cried.
After a sleepless night of prayer, pain meds, and freaking out
(And minimal liquids because a bed pan is no laughing matter.)
The orthopedic surgeon arrived.
I braced myself.
And I kid you not when I tell you that he looked like an angel when he uttered the words “The breaks are not as bad as we initially thought and you don’t need surgery”
And then he shone even brighter when he said they’d be releasing me with crutches on the promise of “good behaviour.”
With a full bag of medication, and two aluminium legs,
(and A LOT of paperwork)
I was wheeled out of the hospital – A prisoner set free.
And just in time to join the family for dinner.
I can’t believe how lucky I am!
Not just that I had insurance and was released without surgery or a catheter or six weeks of hospitalised bed rest…
But the people who have cared for me…
The friends and family who have prayed for me…
The fact that I was actually in a country where I have friends and family.
And speak the language.
Life on three legs is a big step up from bed rest,
But as a normally overly-independent gypsy,
It’s not easy to watch other people carry my stuff,
Change their plans for me,
It’s not easy to sit back and watch other people do all the work!
(But the meals have been fantastic!)
My Cape Town adventure was meant to be all about enjoying the mountains and beaches and sunshine.
It was going to be an action-packed physical adventure.
And while I have had to give up on most of that,
I have had adventures that count – time with people!
Undistracted time, because all I can really do is hobble from one couch to the next to sit and relax and enjoy exceptional humans.
(And fortunately Cape Town has a few pretty, crutches-friendly places to relax in)
In my last blog (Billionaire and a Half) I explained how rich I am thanks to people,
And I have to echo it again!
Thank you to everyone who has housed, carried, helped, prayed, driven, and chilled with me for my recovery!
You guys are amazing!
Today I see the surgeon for a follow up to make sure I’m healing as I should.
So please take a moment to pray, hold thumbs, hope, or simply send good vibes that everything is going as it should!
And take a moment today to enjoy your body!
Appreciate your health, your legs, your freedom!
Appreciate your life!