Welcome to the world

Yep, it's all been happening here. Just finished water birthing, no, not me, my jungle (!) friends. Sort of a bit ying/yang for me being a full on hospital (yes please way more pethadine), girl. So, there's this big paddling pool in the Lodge, filled up with hot water, a bit of deep breathing and then out pops Junior. Couldn't be easier.....from a watching, sympathetic glances, just push, point of view. Midwife then tries to pass over the placenta. Err, no thanks, don't you have a medical incinerator in your car. Clearly not. Would someone like to bury it? Clearly that someone isn't me. I don't do burying. Even the first, lasted 24 hours, rabbit ended up in a shoe box hurled over the mountain, with a quick prayer mind. Imagine, digging away, burying this yucky looking white plastic bag thing and then the chicken (she thinks she's free range) or second much more healthy rabbit dig it up. Oh joy. You know, there's 'at one with nature' and 'at one with nature'. So, stalemate, it goes in the freezer, to go home with the new parents - so their dogs can dig it up. Off they all go a few days later, having hired a new car because they have so much gear (but clearly conveniently forgetting to fit in you know what) and an hour or so later I get a phone call from some students saying 'we're on the hill, can we have a look at the Lodge'. Sure I say, it's tidy but not cleaned. In they come, nutters of course, who happens to 'just be wondering around the top of the mountain?' Anyway, no-body but no-body looks around and opens the fridge and feezer. OMG, they do - something along the lines of 'is there enough room to freeze our freshy squeezed tree bark in there?' or some such nonsense. And, yes, it's still in there, nicely wrapped in a Buy/Shop/Spend/Whatever-A-Lot bag but still RIGHT THERE. So, nutter one says, 'oops they've left their meat in there'. At this point child 1 pipes up, because she is definitely a piper 'oh no, that's a placenta'.

So, the lesson of the day is, when any nutters want to stay, just ensure you have a placenta or two to hand. You know, what I couldn't even be bothered to explain as they winged their way out of the gate super quick.

Now, isn't there a nice little taste explosion/at one with nature recipe that we could rustle up.....

Trust In Me

So, I was gardening today, well actually I was walking around the garden, pointing out things to the gardener, but I did have seedlings (red sunflowers yes red, impressed hey?) in my hand, that I'd grown, anyway, I had that watched feeling. Actually, with a house above and a house at the side and being a source of entertainment for all sorts of reasons, this is a common feeling. Then I spotted it. Ok, so everyone says, here on the happy clappy nature isle, garden of eden blah blah blah, nothing can hurt you, but still you don't really want to be eyeballing a 6ft snake with only a chainlink fence between you. Ok, keep cool, everyone says they're afraid of us, well this one didn't look very spooked, anyway, do they tell you to stand firm and tree like or do they say leg it, what do they do in LOST? I am sort of a bit balanced on a slope and can't really leap away quickly, so I say 'shoo' (umm, bet that terrified him, not), then it does that scary tongue flicky thing, and gives me a look as if to say, if I want you I'll get you because I know you had surgery 3 weeks ago and you can't hop skip and jump away. By this time, the gardener has long gone, (happy for any excuse to escape from me droning on, ignoring all full moon planting prerequisites and when quite frankly it's Friday and who cares it'll all be grown back by Monday), so I edge back and tell Kaa to wait whilst I get my camera. Clearly, he is well trained as when I return he is still sunbathing. Then he gets all camera shy and slithers back into his hole under the tree......now, do I tell my son so he can go all Jungle Book on me hoping they'll bond and sing together or do I keep my mouth firmly shut.....

When it all goes horribly wrong....

Ok, so here you are sitting here in paradise, just living the dream and then one day, without warning,something happens you can't control. You suddenly get sick. Right, this is how it went....

Can I have a scan?
Why?
Because I can feel this big lump in my tummy.
What sort of scan?
I dunno - you know the one you have where you can spot a baby.
So you're pregnant?
No I'm not.
How do you know?
I know, trust me.
Have you taken a test? You do look a bit thick around the waist.
(I feel the waiting room patients strain slightly to hear more and see more)
No, but I am not pregnant ok. (And I grudgingly breathe in)
Ok, but you need to know the name of the scan.
Ok, it's an ultrasound.
All our scans are ultrasound. (in that you complete moron voice and I don't care even though you're sick)
Ok, show me your list of scans.......ok, it's trans-vaginal (I knew she just wanted me to say this in a tiny waiting room where everyone has absolutely nothing to do but listen to your desperate pleas for attention)
Yes, that's correct. (like I'm on this points system)
Well, can I book an appointment then please?
No, come back with a Dr's certificate.

At this point, I realised that sickness was not going to guarantee me a quick bypass around the system here and a first class ticket to communication excellence.

Ok, so then comes the insurance company. I get a form, get it completed and return it to the office. There, I get absolutely no sympathy, I guess they've seen it all before of course, so she just tells me she will submit it to Head Office, . This is on Tuesday, and I tell her I'm due to leave the country on Sunday. On Friday I return to the office and she tells me she's tried to jiggle (sic) it along but heard nothing so contact their office, in the country where surgery is taking place and oh, good luck.


So, I have surgery in 5 days, no insurance confirmation and an amount of EC$20K to pay on arrival at the hospital. I go to the bank, no far too easy that, can I get $20K out in one go - no way, have to give notice. Ok, no worries, I can pay by credit card. Here we go.

Hello, please tell me my credit card limit and balance?
$8,000 dollars is your limit and your balance is nil.
Ok, great. Can I give you $8,000 to put on my card.
What? (pronounced wur-arrr-ttt - sounds far more intimidating you know)
I want to go over my $8,000 limit to $16,000.
No, I am sorry we really don't advise you going above your limit, you might find it difficult to repay us.
No, I'm not, I am giving you in hard cash $8,000 and in return you are going to say I have $16,000 credit limit.
No, I'm sorry it is hard but you have to apply to increase your credit card limit.
But I'm not really you know, I am giving you $8,000 in real notes and I already have $8,000.
Well, on maybe one really important occasion you could go above your limit - what do you want to buy anyway?
I don't want to buy anything, I want to speak to your supervisor.
I'm sorry she will say the same thing as me and it's Friday afternoon and she is going home soon.


I put the phone down and cry.

So, off I go, overseas, to have surgery. I stay in hospital a week. During this time I am asked on two occasions, after surgery, if I would like to see my 25cm, 4 kilos in weight, lump. Now, if it was a baby, yes, but my very very large, very vertical scar, removal of various other organs too, reminds me there's no baby so I decline all offers, much to the nurse's obvious disappointment and observation that inferred I was the mad one as 'everyone' else saw theirs. I wonder, do you think they take a picture of it too?

So, finally I leave and I make it to the carpark, get in the car, and then, even on a Sunday, some jobsworth, clearly single, with no life outside his debt collecting job whatsoever, from Administration, has followed me.....and bangs on the window waving a big wad of paper. From experience I can tell this is the very itemised down to each cotton wood ball, invoice.

You need to pay before you leave - it's an exuberant (sic) amount. (He gesticulates in a breathless voice).
No, I'm not. (Suddenly, I feel empowered, here I am, can hardly walk, constant flashes of hot searing pain, family miles away, completely fed up and the insurance company, who are meant to make your life easy, have failed me). I'm back on Tuesday, I will settle it then. (I say in a don't mess with me voice)
Well sign something.
Ok, gimme something to sign.

So I sign my life away and we finally drive off.

Tuesday, comes and we're off to see the insurance company. Very nice chap and all that but absolutely nothing is resolved, they are questioning a pre-existing possibility. Clearly, I was definitely aware of my growing baby imitator many months before my insurance came into effect, not. So, during our chat, he advises me that the lady in charge of the insurance office in Dominica was very very excited about joining the company's Mediterranean cruise this year. This really wasn't the best bit of information to pass on to me but in my worn down by red tape state, I weakly retorted that I hoped that by actually paying my claim it wouldn't reduce their cocktail and canape intake. The VNC (keep up) found this so hilarious that he couldn't speak for a while. Funnily enough, neither could I.

Finally, I have my stitches out. But they don't come out. So I have a lot of drugs. Fab. They still don't come out. Then I have an injection right into my belly button, not so fab. Stitches come out. More drugs. I'm done.

I can fly home. Yay! I have to wear those very attractive elasticated DVT stockings. Thank goodness I had bought some jeans, sixth sense because I hardly ever wear jeans. So on go the tights and wow, my legs look like perfect staight pins - wow that's so cool. Then I hobble through x-ray. I forgot that these jeans have a built in/on buckle which sets the machine off. I get waved at for the once over hand machine and the officer lifts my t-shirt. Big mistake. Huge great scar staring at her. She nearly dies but has to say, of course, 'have you had surgery'. I want to say no and look down all surprised but I can't keep a straight face. Anyway, I'm whisked through, put in a wheelchair, onto the plane first, given a free drink. Great. When I disembark I reached up for my bag in the overhead locker though and forgot about my handiwork on my tummy again - passengers below me were put off their holiday cocktails for a while I'm sure.

So, I'm home, I'm recovering, I'm fine. The insurance company have agreed that I am not in fact pre-existing but they are not quite sure what I am. Clearly all the paperwork they send you when you are hooked in and signed up and paying large monthly amounts, corresponds to absolutely nothing that you may or may not be entitled to when you actually get sick.

The plus side is that I have this super flat stomach and of course if I get my DVT designer tights on I'd have these super slim pins too. The downside is that Victoria's Secret won't choose me for their next range - ok, for maybe more than just one reason.

Dedicated to all those who can't travel at the moment.......

Aerial Tram Ride Dominica

Cool, really cool. Just don't look down.

What's this flower then?

A Weekend In The Country - Mermaid's Secret, Dominica

So, here you go, enjoy and don't ask me what the flowers are. However, spot the coffee beans, limes, cocoa, nutmeg, pineapple, cashew nuts (really cool!) etc....It's getting booked up fast....now what are you waiting for?

Midnight Caller

Do you remember that show that had the sexy voice that always ended with 'Goodnight America wherever you are'? Well Patrick here in Dominica could give him a run for his money. So, here's the thing, local pyromaniac cuts down trees and starts a fire and then goes out. Since there's been no rain since I can't remember when, the fire is very happy and soon reaches heights of over 15 feet and carefully burns through leccy and cable tv wires. Anyway, up turns Blue Watch (who carefully connect up in Caribbean time) and soon the fire's out or is it........

Fast forward 9 hours and I'm home alone and off to bed and I can smell a lot of smoke. So I see from my balcony that the fire has reignited and is now in full swing. So, do I just ignore it or make a phone call to the neighbours and tell someone else, thus absolving myself of all responsibility....No, not so easy, Dominica is the go to bed early nation, no-one answers. (Now there's a comforting thought for a later even more urgent matter). I then wake up the Housekeeper who tells me this 7 digit number to ring for the fire brigade - what happened to good old 999? Anyway, here begins my midnight caller moment.

Good Evening, Roseau Fire Station.

Umm, you know the fire you came to today well it isn't really out.

What do you mean?

Well it's still on fire.

Go and check it for me.

What do you mean - go and check it? I can see it from here I am not going anywhere in my PJ's, with my kids in bed.

Well, what does it look like?

A fire, sort of fire-ish and red-ish and basically flame-ish.
(Clearly not on the first page of the regulation Fire Manual then)

How tall are the flames?

I can't really tell but sort of high-ish and worth checking-ish. (I'm loosing my nerve now). Anyway, I'm not asking you to 'der der der der der der' (fire engine sound ok) all the way up here, just maybe pop in your car and have a look......(I realise now I'm sounding girly and pitiful and should just give up)

Well maybe you could check it every hour or so for us?

WHAT?!

Well I could ring you or you could ring me and you could let me know how it is.

But I'm going to bed.....Anyway, I think I've done my duty so what's your name? (long pause - no-one likes this question unless they're in a bar I guess, maybe)

Well, what's your name? (Ah, checkmate)

(So, we both exchange names and both feel on an even keel now I guess)

Anyway, (I say purposefully), I'm off to bed and I just wanted you to know because I don't want my village to burn down....

Ok, but you ring me back when you want.

Umm, ok......