The Day I Almost Died

There comes a time in every man’s life when he is faced with his own mortality.  Unfortunately these moments come at the most inopportune times and they are unattractive, unsettling and offensive.  Regrettably for me I had two such moments all on the same day.  Once at a very small airport on an Island called Nosy Be in Madagascar and the second more protracted one on the international flight back to Johannesburg all culminating in just over 12 hours of unadulterated hell.

This past December hubby and I agreed to take our annual holiday and spend it in Madagascar.  We both had a hellishly busy year and needed to get away to place that was remote, tranquil and quiet.  We decided to go back to Sakatia Lodge, a place we visited back in 2009 which met all the requirements for the relaxing break we so desperately needed.  We decided to stay for 12 glorious days, and glorious they were, at least up until day 11 that is.

You see, for the first 10 days we lounged around, I read three books, we swam, snorkeled, scuba dived and went horse riding.  It was utterly fabulous!  Then came day 11.  I woke up not feeling my normal gay self.  There was a distinct discomfort in my abdomen and I had a slight fever.  Naturally, I thought I was constipated seeing as I am full of shit most of the time anyway.  But, even though I was in some pain we went ahead and did a day trip and we were also scheduled to do quad biking in the afternoon.

The day trip was pretty much overshadowed by me being in pain, having difficulty walking and secretly wishing that I could have a bowel movement to ease the discomfort I was feeling.  I ended up in three rather dodgy public toilets, each time sitting down waiting for the dump that never came.  By late afternoon we made it to the quad biking.  By that time the rational side of me knew it probably wasn’t a great idea, but seeing as it was our last day in Madagascar I was determined not to ruin anyone’s fun and try to have some fun myself.  Sadly, it was not on the cards.

You see, when you have the apocalypse happening in your innards going up and down hills on a quad bike for two hours is not as much fun as one would think.  I was in pain, being shaken about, getting dirty and sweating profusely.  It wasn’t pretty.  It wasn’t fun.  It felt like it would never end.  But two and half hours later it did end and after taking the boat back to the lodge and consuming a large number of laxatives I finally made it back to our bungalow, stripped down to my underwear and lay on the bed in front of the fan reeling in pain.

The lodge manager eventually brought me a handful of pills:  a strong laxative and something for abdominal and ovarian cramps and spasms.  It did help somewhat and I made it down for dinner even though I didn’t eat anything, but I did have a couple of gin and tonics.  At exactly 4 o’clock the next morning, an hour before we needed to take the boat that would take us to the taxi that would take us to the airport; I woke up in excruciating pain.

I was crawling on the floor unable to stand upright.  I thought I was going to die!  A couple of pain pills and thirty minutes under a warm shower, I managed to get dressed, get on the boat, then into the taxi and got to the airport.  Then the real hell started.  Our flight to Antanarivo was cancelled due to the plane’s engine having some kind of problem.  We ended up being delayed for four hours waiting for another plane which could take us directly to Johannesburg.

In the mean time the pain I was experiencing grew exponentially worse to the point that I was actually hyperventilating, sweating and unable to stand up straight.  This placed me in a very precarious situation.  If I looked too sick the airline could prevent me from boarding.  After all which airline would knowingly welcome a medical emergency 30 thousand feet up in the air over the Indian Ocean?

All I could think about was that I didn’t want to pass out and wake up under a mosquito net with a Catholic nun patting down my sweaty brow with a dirty wet towel while praying for me, with the sound of chickens and goats outside, while hubby is being molested by a priest and the natives rummaging through our luggage.  Luckily my tan and Botox sufficiently concealed how sick I was and standing and sitting in the airport with my hands placed on either side of my ribs made me look more annoyed that our flight was cancelled rather than me being in pain.

After what felt like an eternity our plane finally came and we boarded.  The plane took off and 15 minutes into the flight I turned to hubby and said “I don’t think I am constipated.  I think I need to go to a Hospital!”  He had a look of total helplessness on his face and from that point on his job became to give me a pain pill every 20 minutes and to pray for a tail wind.  The 3 hours and 26 minutes flight was utter hell.  I was in pain, couldn’t breathe and was alternating between having a fever, chills and sweating.  At that stage the cabin crew knew there was a problem but choose not to get involved.

As we were making our final approach to Johannesburg I was never as happy to see that smog filled skyline.  I was almost home and I was going to live.  The plane landed and within an hour I was in hospital.  First they thought I had appendicitis and then after numerous blood tests, X-rays and a CAT scan I was finally diagnosed with double pneumonia.

Relieved that we found out what was wrong with me, I was ready to go home and have a shower.  As I was collecting my stuff to go home the doctor looked at me with a very perplexed expression on his face and said “No! Stop!  You are a very sick man we are admitting you to hospital now.”  To which I responded “Ok, but I’ll go home, have a shower, get some stuff and come back.”  To which he rather abrasively responded “There are showers in hospital!  You are NOT leaving”

Then there was the HIV issue “I know this is a sensitive matter” the doctor said “Are you immune compromised?” he asked.  “Well, I smell like shit, I am in pain, can’t breathe and have been in transit for the last 12 hours in my condition, the only thing that is compromised right now is my fucking patience!  AND NO I am NOT HIV+!” I responded and then proceeded to ask him whether they always assume that all gay men who come into hospital with pneumonia have HIV.  In retrospect I guess I was a bit hard on him, but then again I was not in a good place at that moment.  I was admitted minutes later.

I was in hospital for 5 fucking long days, had blood drawn 17 times and had 12 injections.  The day of my discharge I had a particularly rough morning.  The student nurse who tried to fix my IV ended up bursting one of my veins.  I completely lost it!  I phoned hubby sobbing pleading with him to come and fetch me.

After composing myself and returning to my room, my doctor came and just as he asked me how my evening was I lost it once again but this time spectacularly so doing the ugly cry with snot dripping from my oxygen tubes that were stuck in my nose.  Like an emotionally disturbed child I was sobbing holding out my bruised and battered arms pointing at each of them while being completely incoherent.  He ended up discharging me but under strict conditions.

The doctor told me to monitor my temperature every 4 to 8 hours, I had to return for more blood tests, was to get bed rest for at least one more week and if I had any breathing problems or if the pain increased I was to return to hospital immediately.  In the sternest voice I have ever been spoken too he conveyed all of these conditions and ended with saying “If you do not follow this you could die!”

I have been home now for a couple of days and am feeling better.  They say it takes some time to recover from pneumonia and I can attest that it is not fun.  I will not be going out in public for at least a couple of more days, my arms and hands are still bruised making me look like a heroin addict.  At least I made it home, am alive and maybe someday I will look back at this experience and think it is funny.  But for the moment it really isn’t very funny at all!

(Disclaimer:  This blog post was written entirely in bed while medicated.  I'm in no position to operate heavy machinery and I suspect I should not be blogging at the moment either!) 

Till next time.

Pinky & the Brain: Aquatic Domination

This funny video was the brain child of Jacques Vieira of Sakatia Lodge who would come to us every morning and ask "So boys, what's your plans for today?" to which hubby would answer "The same thing we do everyday..."

Then there was our Quad Biking trip around Nosy Be island.

The best for last, our dive - truly spectacular!

Don’t Look Like a Terrorist

There’s no two ways about it, the world after 9/11 irrevocably changed. And no industry felt the effects of 9/11 more than that of the aviation industry. Gone are the days when flying was relaxing, when checking in for your flight took just ten minutes and your biggest concern when boarding a flight was being seated next to a morbidly obese dude with chronic flatulence. Nowadays, the biggest threat to flying, apart from the odd annoying volcanic ash clouds, bird strikes and/or wind shear, are terrorist and airlines have devised intrusive and humiliating measures to counter this threat. Having had my fare share of humiliating run-ins with airport security, customs officials and cabin crew, I thought I’d share some of my tips on dos and don’ts to help make your next flying experience as smooth and stress free as possible.

Do NOT look like a terrorist. Now you may ask, what does a terrorist look like? Well, I cannot tell you for sure, but suffice to say if you do look like one you will be searched and interrogated. Therefore, always make sure you are abreast of the newest fashion fad for seasoned terrorists and then avoid wearing that! Avoid reading any material containing the words Al Qaida, Osama Bin Laden, Jihad, Taliban, Hijacking and/or Bomb Making in its title, as it will land you in an interrogation room. Pre-ordering a Halaal meal while you check in online is also not a good idea, especially when your name clearly indicates that you are not Muslim. I talk from experience people. Earlier this year I mistakenly clicked Halaal as food preference and I was harassed by airline staff 4 times: once during check in, once during boarding, and twice during the flight. But, even remotely appearing like you may be a terrorist, sympathetic towards terrorists or in any way affiliated with terrorists are not the only hurdle you will face at an airport.

No matter what your mood when you arrive at any airport always be cordial. Sure you may smell and feel like shit after your eleven hour flight. Sure you may be tired because the dude next to you snored the whole flight through keeping you awake. But no matter what your situation may be, know this - security and customs officials do not give a rat’s ass about your problems. Even if you are late for your flight they will take their time and any snide remark or inkling of an attitude or noncooperation from you will, in all probability, lead to a full body and/or cavity search. Which leads me to another important rule to remember – always wear nice underwear! Because you never know when or where you may be asked to strip down to your tidy withies and we don’t want to be any more embarrassed than we need to be. And then there are those tedious security questions.

The airport has no place for a sense of humour. If you think you are a stand-up comedian please make sure you stay very far away from me when checking in at the airport or going through customs. All airport staff has their sense for humour surgically removed on their first day on the job. No matter how stupid or fantastical the questions they ask you may be, answer them as brief and concise and non-incriminating as possible. I once made the mistake of answering “Did you pack your own luggage?” with “No, my husband did”, causing a twenty minute delay as they searched my bag. I was also recently asked in Kenya whether I “ever assemble or tried to assemble a nuclear or chemical device”. Naturally after being asked this question I paused as I was trying to figure out if the natural poison concoction I developed last year to ward off pests in our garden constituted a “chemical device”. So I answered “No, not recently”. Needless to say both my luggage and I were thoroughly searched and each item carefully inspected. Speaking of luggage...

Be very mindful of what you pack in your hand luggage. A couple of weeks ago I took a national flight for a short business trip. As usual when I checked in the check-in-counter-chick was adamant in reminding me not to leave any electronics in my luggage that’s to be loaded into cargo. Being the seasoned traveller that I am, I knew not to do this and I had my laptop, BlackBerry, their respective cables, a digital recorder and its batteries and my camera and its cable in my hand luggage. (Guess you can see where this is going). I gaily made my way to the security checkpoint, got my little plastic container, took off my watch and belt, took out my laptop and BlackBerry and placed all my items in the container.

As I, my bag and other items made our way through the metal detector and X-Ray machine alarms sounded and I was immediately pulled to the side. “Please empty your bag” I was insolently instructed. Apparently all the different items in my bag looked like pieces of a homemade bomb ready for assembly. As I emptied my bag the pièce de résistance fell out – a knife (don’t ask). The one time I forgot to check my bag before I leave home and I left a big ass knife in there. It was confiscated, I was questioned and I, my “bomb” and knife delayed my flight with a good 26 minutes. And then there is your passport. Possibly the most important document any traveller owns.

Make an effort to look like your passport photo. Sure many of us don’t look our absolute best on our passport photos and there is a reason they don’t allow us Photoshop or Airbrush these mug shots – the reason being that if you don’t look like your mug shot customs won’t allow you to enter the country. Exactly this happened to hubby and I with our last trip to Madagascar. You see, a few days prior to our departure both hubby and I decided to bleach our hair. We figured that blonds have more fun and therefore being platinum blond on an island would be ten times more fun. Boy were we in for a surprise.

Once we departed from the aircraft in Antanarivo and completed our little entry form, we fell in line to have our passports checked and stamped. When we reached the top of the queue our trouble began. The custom official looked at our passports, looked at us and looked at our passports again before handing them off to a second customs official who then took us aside. With a thick French accent the bearded lady asked “Is this you? Is this you here in the passport?” pointing to our pictures. “Yes it is, it’s only the hair that’s different” we responded. “No, not you, no, no, no.” She responded clearly befuddled. A good 15 minutes of negotiation later which also addressed my weight gain and subsequent weight loss, at that time, she was finally semi convinced our passports contained our likeness and we were allowed to legally enter Madagascar.

Yes, flying after 9/11 and the subsequent stringent security measures do, at times, make our lives difficult and drive me mad, but at the end of the day it’s all done in an effort to keep us safe. After all I do prefer landing at an airport rather than the alternative – intentionally crashing into a building. It is an inconvenience that is here to stay and an inconvenience we best get use too. I do hope my dos and don’ts will contribute to making your next flight less stressful and a much more pleasant experience.

Till next time.

"Mad" Air to Paradise.

2009 was without a doubt a long and difficult years. Therefore, during August I decided that hubby and I needed a holiday destination that was remote, beautiful and affordable. We needed to go to an island! So my search began for the perfect location. Every spot I found either was too populated, too expensive or really rural, and we don’t do the roughing it thing. Finally, I heard about the Coup d'etat that happened in Madagascar during January 2009 that lasted until November. My first reaction was “Fabulous, so it will be cheap!” After searching several lodges on the surrounding islands I found the perfect spot, a place called Sakatia Lodge and made my booking and so our adventure began.

On Boxing Day we were scheduled to fly to Madagascar on “Mad Air”, so nicknamed due to their lack of keeping flight schedules, lack of English and warning passengers that smoking and lying in the aisles of the plane drunk is strictly prohibited. Our flight was delayed by an hour, which was a good thing because our luggage was overweight. I was horrified as I am incapable of travelling light and every item in our luggage I viewed as absolutely essential. So we sat on the floor, redistributed some items and Voilà we ended up checking 3 bags into cargo instead of 2. Having had to also catch a national flight from Antananarivo to Nosy Be, I was seriously concerned that we would miss our 2nd flight, but was assured that they would keep our flight grounded until we arrived there. On arrival I was pleasantly surprised to find that this was exactly what they did and we made it safely to Nosy Be along with 40 other annoyed passengers who were delayed 2 hours due to us. So you can imagine the stares we got.

On arrival at Nosy Be we were transferred by taxi to the pickup spot where the boat would take us to Sakatia Island. We arrived there with a young newlywed couple, a mom and her son and a group of 13 people. While waiting for our luggage to get loaded onto one of the boats the woman asked me and my hubby whether we were there on our Honeymoon, I just giggled and told her no we have been married now for 3 years and this was just a normal holiday. I could tell some of our group was taken aback by her frank nature and we were in for some interesting times. Eventually everything was packed and we boarded our boats and set off to the Island. We were welcomed there by the couple that runs the lodge and a much needed rum cocktails. We were briefed on the workings of the lodge, then finished a delicious dinner and fell into bed to be roused the next morning by the awakening forest and the gentle sounds of waves licking the shore - we woke up in paradise!

Our 1st day was spent lounging around, swimming and snorkeling - a perfectly relaxing start. Then it was suggested we go scuba diving, something I have never done before. The dive was appropriately called “baptême de qc” French for baptism. The 2 dive masters would do practically everything for us; the only thing we had to do was breath and swim, sound simple enough. However, once I hit the water and got strapped into my scuba gear the 1st thing that went through my mind was “O God, am I really going to do this?” Descending to the 2 meter drop was hysterical to watch. I was bopping around, first on my back almost hitting my head on the bottom of a boat then on my stomach and keeping vertical seemed impossible. Eventually the one dive master took over and I successfully made it to the bottom. Once there I was relaxed and completely enthralled with the wonderland below the surface that so few people get to appreciate. After an hour of diving I returned to the surface hooked on the sport, and we had a second dive later. The only drawback of the 2 dives was that my left year got blocked and I was practically deaf in that ear. So every now and again I had to remind hubby and other people to speak into my “good ear” if they wanted any chance of coherent conversation.
On our 2nd night a British woman and her friend arrived at the lodge that had a striking resemblance to Meryl Streep and she was aptly nicknamed “Meryl”. The next day we were scheduled to visit Nosy Komba (Lemur Island) and go snorkeling on Nosy Tanikely (a Marine Reserve) to swim with wild sea turtles. It would be a short drive to the harbor and then 3 boat trips. On our way to the harbor we made a stop in Hellville in order for some folk to change currency. I was under the impression we would visit a bureau de change and we did, it just was not what I expected. We visited a human ATM who climbed into our taxi with her purse, it was odd and I later heard it was also illegal. While the human ATM was doing her thing I took a short walk through Hellville and counted up to 6 chickens being slaughter right on the sidewalk. I guess they don’t call it Helville for nothing and chickens, ducks and zebus can attest to this!

While waiting for our boat to Lemur Island, hubby said he needed to pee, after enquiring from both our guide (Kiki) and the police I had to inform hubby there were no toilets and he would have to hold it. The 45 minute boat ride was pure torture for him and seconds after the boat hit the shore he sped off and returned to the group much more relieved. Lemur Island was fascinating, we got to feed the Lemurs, saw their indigenous chameleons and I even faced my fear and held a snake. The only bad thing was the heat. I was sweating like a fat chicken in Hellville, and was dumbfounded by some of the other tourist who was walking around with long sleeve shirts and jeans. After some shopping we left for the 2nd Island. An hour later we arrived and were amazed to discover the most beautiful and unspoiled beach. We could not wait to get our snorkeling gear on and find those turtles. I didn’t have to search far before I spotted my 1st wild sea turtle. They are amazing and graceful creatures and I was completely mesmerized and spent the next few hours swimming with them. We had a short but delicious picnic on the beach that included some uninvited guests and these lizards really seemed to enjoy the rice. We then headed back to Hellville where we were returned to our Island by boat and spoiled with the most breathtaking sunset.
On New Year’s Eve the theme at our lodge was black and white. The lodge was nicely decorated and everyone was in the mood for a party, and needless to say the champagne was flowing. After a feast that included crayfish, huge langoustines and much more we were ready for the countdown to 2010. As 2009 ended and well wishes for 2010 was concluded the natural thing to do was go skinny dipping, which the majority of the lodge did, this is also how I lost my pants. Whether I misplaced it or it was hidden still remains a mystery. As they say, what happens on Sakatia stays on Sakatia.

The next morning, being slightly hangover hubby and I found some relieve with Bloody Marys and the rest of the day was lazed away in the warm and calm water. This would be our last day there and we were sad to leave. That evening, while packing our bags, we reminisced on all our great experiences and vowed to return. As our final flight departed and I looked out of the window watching the island I have now become so fond off become smaller in the distance I knew that the experience has left me relaxed, gave me a new energy and a positive outlook for the year to come. Sakatia Island (Cat Island) and Sakatia Lodge was just what the doctor ordered and I hope to be back there soon.

Till next time.

The Obligation to Happiness - by Timothy Guerreschi