Trouble in Paradise

Leaving a piece of yourself behind.

Very good friends of ours were forced to abort a vacation recently when one of them suffered a ruptured Achilles tendon just a few days into the trip.

The very thought of this makes me cringe. First you have the injury and resulting pain, then the hassle, then the cost. But, I suppose, it’s a risk that all of us take every time we set foot on a plane. I have become a little gun-shy because The Frau has established her own track record for minor injury on the last few outings. There’s usually some sort of far-flung face plant awaiting her on a cobblestone street when we both least expect it.

The first injury she suffered was on our inaugural excursion to Bermuda many, many years ago. We were scuba diving and the last words out of the instructor’s mouth were, ‘ Whatever you do…don’t touch the fire coral !’. So Angie promptly plopped over the side of the dive boat, descended and literally sat on a clump of fire coral. She said it felt like a thousand razor blades impacting her posterior. She kept gesturing frantically at her bottom and I was a little hard-pressed…thirty feet down amid the bubbles….to understand the message. Later, I applied the necessary unguent and tried (not very successfully) to look on the bright side of her backside.

You sat in..what?

On that same trip, while frolicking in the surf of a deserted beach, I was subsequently washed over a particularly gnarly coral head. This took a surprisingly sizeable chunk of flesh out of my side. I just stood there marvelling at the rapid blood loss. In order to get to a hospital I had to climb a cliff, gushing a bit with each step, and then drive a scooter along a bumpy road..all the time screaming at The Frau, who was sitting on the seat behind me grabbing the very location of the injury. The hospital staff told me (in the nicest possible way) to stop whining.  This was, apparently, nothing. They are used to treating tourists who resemble a plate of tartar from their mopeds meeting numerous immovable objects.

Did this deter us from travel? Did it put Bermuda on the disabled location list? On the contrary, we loved the place so much we went back year after year. Bermuda, it seems, was in our blood…and we both have the scars to prove it.


One Response to “Trouble in Paradise”

  1. I hope you didn’t have to suck out the fire coral poison.

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