Ok… a few people have chased me up. I’m slow. I have been really unwell. I am sick of saying sorry for not blogging every day… feel free to step in
What I wanted to tell you guys about was what happened in the hospital. Stuff really that’s been going on for some months. Where it has come from I cannot say. I couldn’t actually write these words down in the hospital – too triggering.
Let me (try to) explain.
I’ve never been one to suffer anxiety. Am I old? Maybe. Is driving around the world, alone, perhaps a little more testing than I gave it credit for? Almost certainly.
But what could possibly go wrong, right…?
I am not sure when I had my first claustrophobic experience. I think, when I caught Covid right at the start, the first 3-4 days, I was stuck in tent really worried living on sleeping pills and panadol. For 3-4 days. Was I scared I was going to die? Nuh. But I was in a weird place. Feverish, hungry, uncertain, a bit scared, wondering why I was there and not in the bosom of people who love me. I did have my buddy Geoff – he was in his $400/night resort room…
Following on from that, every time I slept in the tent I needed lots of open space to see the stars. I had a nervous episode and suffered claustrophobia most nights.
Then along came the panic attacks. I had a couple of goodies maybe on my own in northern WA. Just mistook them for stress. But, the big daddy doozy happened when I was 20m underwater in Timor Leste. I think it started as claustrophobia – a mask, a reg, tired, stressed. I freaked out v badly. V v badly. I let this go for a bit thinking it would improve. Big mistake. I spat out my reg (never good – you need air). My buddy tried to get to me, gave me his reg. I signalled I was toast – took off to the surface. He tried to stop me – held me back. I ripped his reg out, and I think his mask in mad wild panic. I took off to the surface. No air. No sense to recover my reg or inflate the BCD. Total, white hot, irrational panic. 60 feet is a long way to fin with empty lungs. Honestly, at one stage I thought I was toast. But I did it… I hit the surface. That first breath of fresh air was indescribably good. As was the feeling as I inflated my BCD and floated.
Believe it or not I dived again in Komodo. This time I was at 5m – a controlled dev dive with a dive master. I had 3 dives that day, and dive 2 threw up the same outcome. This time I relaxed, went back down and finished the dive – and then did a third… Not sure of the sense of that, but I wanted to get back on the horse. I also felt this one coming and recognised it – it was far easier to save myself without that irrational fear.
So, how does this relate to a hospital in Sumbawa last week? What was so triggering that I couldn’t even write it down last time?
Because, the whole time I was there, I was in this tiny room. There was a window, and I camped by it for hours. But it was tiny and I couldn’t open. I was stuck in that room for almost 5 days – they wouldn’t let me out. Worse, I was connected to that drip 24/7. Now this isn’t unusual. But I spent most hours of that period in a state of mild panic. Now, rationally I knew what was happening I breathed, I relaxed, I meditated. But sometimes the emotions really started to get dangerous. Never too dangerous – I was always stayed short of that blind panic moment. But it was close – most of the time.
I begged the staff one day – let me downstairs. Just let out the front door for 10 minutes. Let me breathe real air. They agreed – sent me down stairs. But no one thought to tell the 5 x 1.8m 20-something security guards, who took a dim view to patients walking outside pushing their IV drip on a trolley. We did have an unpleasant standoff at the door for 5 min – I could see and taste the air just behind them. Five of them against a sick, tired, panicked 66 year old with an IV drip on a trolley. Hardly a fair fight – and they knew it. Because I won!! I think they sensed the danger sheer panic can create in an unpredictable patient carrying his IV on a trolley who may well drop dead in front of them. They finally stepped back and let me walk 2-3 meters outside. I did that several more times. That really, really helped.
Like I said, even writing these words while I was in that room, uncertain when I’d get out, was triggering. I literally could not acknowledge them. That’s why I waited.
So what happened then? They let me out on Friday. I went to a tidy resort on the coast. They were fantastic. I sat in a room for 3 days trying to get some, any, energy to keep rolling. I couldn’t. I was totally destroyed. But I had a compelling event I could not ignore – my tourist visa had expired. I was literally in Indonesia illegally – huge risk of being deported. So yesterday I pulled myself into my truck and drove from Sumbawa to the ferry terminal. I managed to drive on to the ferry – I crashed, sorry, I mean I slept. The ferry arrived into Lombok and I was faced with a crazy 3 hour drive to the capital, Mataram. Peak hour, into the sun, more motorbikes that I’d seen on my life before. Zero energy… and I mean none. But I arrived at my planned destination where I met the world’s best visa agent. She has my passport, she has paid my fine and she is renewing my visa. So it was worth it… well, I didn’t have a choice. I just had to get here.
So, early to bed last night And you know what? I woke up at midnight – a panic attack… Wtf…. But I am getting attuned now. I ripped open the curtains, I opened to window and I sucked in a bunch of fresh air… and marvelled at the wonderful skyline Mataram has to offer a panic stress victim at god knows what time of the night… Well, ok it was midnight but you get my drift.
So there you have it. If you remember my first blog I talked about this experience being about me finding me, finding out who I am. I have to say it’s that and more. And some of it is pretty ugly.
I’ve a friend coming to visit next week. Then I am flying directly home – home being Sumner in Christchurch. Then over to Sydney. I need the love of my best and oldest friends, and my kids, very badly. I need to see the world’s best GP. I need to get this shit sorted. Honestly, I cannot continue if this is my reality….
They used to say back in my younger days… never show weakness. Never show vulnerability. Thank goodness those stupid days are behind us. Acknowledging this stuff has been so therapeutic… believe me. I am the luckiest person I know.