Brooke's continuing adventures

The next day we set off early, planning to drive around the island and spend the night in Kuta, on the south end. We spent the morning climbing the volcano, twisting, turning, going up and down (mostly up) and through some pretty heavy rain.  Eventually we made it to the top. I mentioned to Charles that I was a bit frightened to go down. I looked ahead and all I could see was jungle and winding road, but it was no longer raining, and the road looked dry. I thought to myself that we must be in a bit of a rain shadow and that the worst was over. It would still be a challenge, but I would try to keep my speed down.   

Unfortunately, about a half hour in, I was trying to slow down as a sharp turn was approaching, and I hit a slick patch of road. I (and the bike) went flying into the bushes (which were surprisingly soft). I had pants and long sleeves and running shoes on, so I had barely a scratch from the fall, but my leg was not so lucky. Just from looking at it, we could tell that it was at least dislocated.   

 At the same time as the accident, a Danish couple on a tour of the island happened to coming by in their van taxi (in fact, they might have distracted me as they came around that corner, but I try not to think about that, it was a good thing they were there). They pulled over and came to my rescue. Their guide suggested they take me to a local health center in Sembalun, about 15km away, so Charles, the Danish husband and the guide carried me to the van, and off we went, Charles, and some passing locals following behind on the bikes.

The health center was a bit of a trip. They carried me inside and put me on a bed, took one look and said they needed to call the doctor. Then they gave me a shot of pain killer in my behind (the Danish woman watched to make sure it was a fresh needle). Meanwhile, about 30 local women in head scarves and their children gathered around the windows and the sides of the room and stared at me as if they didn't know white people could be injured. Another woman in a head scarf then arrived, (I assume she was the doctor) took one look at it, and said I needed to go to the hospital, and they would call an ambulance to take me there. I asked if I could take a taxi, thinking it would be cheaper. She laughed and said there were no taxis there. Then some guys pulled on my leg a bit and put it in a makeshift splint, made out of wood and bandages. Charles didn't think they were doing it right. I think he was right.

 An ambulance came and drove Charles and I to a hospital about an hour away, back down the mountain, passing the crash site.  The road must have been super slick because even the ambulance was sliding around, and it was traveling at a snails pace on the curvy roads.

Ambulance in Indonesia apparently does not have the same connotation as ambulance does in the States because people were constantly tail gaiting us and trying to pass us, everything except letting us through. It was ridiculous. All I could do was laugh.

When we arrived at the hospital, they rolled me in but didn't have an open room, so they rolled a guy out into the hallway, then rolled me in between a sick child and an old woman, both of whom were hooked up to IVs and seemed to be running a fever.

They took the splint off and looked at it. By this time it was pretty swelled. They told me I needed an x-ray, but either their x-ray machine wasn't working, or they didn't have one, I wasn't really clear. There wasn't really anything they could do for me here. I would need to go to the hospital in Mataram, Lombok's largest city.  We couldn't wait to get out of that dirty hospital, so they wrapped it in another splint, another ambulance was called (one that had just brought in a dead guy) and we hopped in (or in my case, was carried in) and drove for another hour.  

The hospital in Mataram was a little more professional – a very little, but at least they had an x-ray machine.  From the results of the x-ray they told me it was dislocated and the knee was broken, but it was a clean break, and I'd get a cast. Their bone doctor, however, was in Jakarta, and they didn't have anyone else who really knew what to do. They said I could either have an ambulance take me to Bali that night on the ferry, or get a temporary cast and go to Bali on my own the next day. I opted for the temporary cast, as I just wanted to get out of there and find a nice hotel with TV and air conditioning. I figured if my trip was going to be over, I might as well spend what money I had left and be as comfortable as possible. They left me sitting there for a while, and eventually came back and told me that they didn't have any of the usual material they would use to make a cast, but they had some other material that wasn't as good. I believe they said it was feldspar.  At that point I just wanted to get out of there. I told them to go ahead and make me a cast, and get me some crutches so I could get around.

After they put the cast on, they asked me if I still wanted the crutches. I'm not sure how else they thought I would get around. I had to wait a while for them to have a set brought in, but they got me a brand new set of light weight aluminum crutches, straight out of the plastic wrap. The first hint of modern medicine I’d seen so far (just kidding).

By this point, Charles had gotten a cab back to Senggigi. As Mataram is pretty close to there, we decided we'd go back and stay the night there again, but this time in a nicer place.  He went to take care of all the details, find a hotel, get the bikes taken care of (which were still in Senbalum) etc. while I had the cast put on.  

So they put a feldspar cast over my knee, which probably weighed 20 pounds, brought me some crutches and called me a cab.

Getting used to the crutches was quite a struggle. I could only go about 10 feet before having to stop and take a break, and my armpits were killing me! On top of that, the hotel room Charles found had a really cool attached outdoor bathroom, but it required going down steps to get into it. This proved to be a bit of a challenge, but I managed to get around alright.

The next day we had to get the boat back to Bali. I had to crutch it down the beach where the staff lifted me into a small boat. Everyone got in around me. Then we went out to a larger boat. Everyone got off, and they had to lift me onto the large boat. Once on the boat I was lucky enough to meet an American couple, the husband of whom happened to be a nurse. He set me up so I was out of the sun and my leg was elevated on top of an ice chest. He also reassured me about taking the 800 mg ibuprofen tablets I’d self prescribed (one every 6 hours) Those were probably the best medical investment of my trip!

The ride back took a good four hours at least, but it was nice to relax a little, as there was little else I could do. I figured once I got to Bali the hospital would fix me right up with a proper cast and all would be well, I’d be sipping fruit juice by the pool in no time.

When we finally reached Padang Bai they again had to lift me into a smaller boat to go ashore.  When we reached the dock, however, the waves were too rough, so they had to go around to the side and find a better spot to unload me. The next spot, right next to the beach, was still too rough, but after a minute, it calmed down enough for them to lift me on to the dock. There was a guy in a wheelchair on the boat as well who they had to remove the same way, and a couple with a small child, so I didn’t feel quite so labor intensive. I wasn’t the only one requiring special circumstances.  

When I finally arrived at the hospital in Denpasar, Bali, they wheeled me in on a stretcher, and about 5 doctors all crowded around to check me out. I was feeling better about the situation. Then they all started laughing at my Lombok knee cast. They couldn't believe it. For some reason this didn't worry me. I suppose I knew I was now in a place where they could fix it. What worried me was what they said when they took a look at the x-ray.  I would need surgery, and they wanted to operate as soon as possible.

I didn't know what to do, and Charles couldn't give me any opinion on the matter. The doctor's were telling me their orthopedic medicine was just as good as any western country, but I didn't have the best feeling about it. Still, I almost gave in.

Charles watched them take off the cast, and I could feel the saw on my leg. The first thing out of his mouth was “Don’t get surgery here!” I was at a loss. I asked if I could call my parents and get their opinion but they wouldn't let me get up as the cast was already removed.  I somehow convinced Charles to do it for me, and while talking with them, he had the brilliant idea of suggesting Bangkok. My mom liked that, as we have friends there who could look after me.  

I told the doctor's I would fly out the next day and that I had family in Bangkok who could take care of me, and they seemed to understand that it would be better for me to have the surgery done their. They hadn't been really keen on letting me take a long flight, but a short flight to Bangkok was ok. They put a full leg cast on me, and I prayed that the leg wouldn't swell up anymore.  After they put the cast on me, they made sure I could get around on the crutches, and one of the doctors put a chair down for me to sit on. A few minutes later it occurred to me, shouldn’t my leg be elevated? I waved down one of the doctors and asked him about it, and he suddenly got a look of surprise, like a light bulb had just turned on. He quickly wheeled in a stretcher for me and asked me who had told me to sit there (of course I had no idea). I noticed he was wearing flip flops, which didn’t seem all that sanitary for a hospital. Then I saw a cat run into the ER. At this point I knew I'd made the right decision.

Trying to get around with the full leg cast was quite a challenge. It really hit me that night in Padang Bai how difficult it would all be, especially if I had to have a cast like this one for a couple of months. I knew I needed to get to Bangkok to get it taken care of, and I didn't have a ticket yet. I would need to be there by the following night, yet it all seemed so far away. I was worrying about everything from dealing with my bags to how I was going to get around the airport and into a taxi once I got there. Going to the bathroom was a major task, and I couldn't even lift my leg onto the bed. How on earth was I going to get through this? Needless to say, I didn't sleep much.

The next day things all came together. Charles somehow found me a ticket for a direct flight to Bangkok for $300 US, an amazing feat considering the travel agent had told him $800 the night before. We gathered my stuff up, got me in a cab, went to the travel agency to pick up the ticket, and then took me straight to the airport. I managed to speak with my parents in the car and they told me their friend Judie who lives there had recently had knee surgery and had a great surgeon, and she had lined him up to see me. Judie's husband Bill would meet me at the airport. I started crying tears of joy. Knowing I had so much help put my mind at ease enough to let it out. I might be able to get through all of this after all.

Charles was a godsend. He took care of everything for me, got the hotels, the taxis, carried my bags, found my plane ticket and got me to the airport. He even got the cab driver to stop at McDonalds so he could pick me up a Big Mac and fries. And as he was flying home from Bangkok a week later, he came to visit me in the hospital. I don't know what I would have done without him (although I supposed I wouldn't have been trying to drive around Lombok on a motorbike in the first place had I not been with him).  

The Thai Airways counter wasn't open yet, so a Malaysia Airlines employee wheeled me in to where the ticket counters were, set me to the side, and said she'd let them know. Charles couldn't go into the airport because he didn't have a ticket, so he went off to enjoy the rest of his holiday and dive the USS Liberty (which we had been planning to do together).  I was now on my own.

About an hour went by and nobody came to help. I flagged down a porter and asked him to notify Thai Airways and he came back and told me to wait where I was. Eventually I decided to go plant myself in front of the counter. A porter helped me over and set me down.

When the airline clerk looked at me, the first thing she said was "impossible". I had a sudden flashback to Chennai airport in India when I could feel my heart beating in my chest. After all this, what would I do if I couldn't get on that plane? I needed to get to Bangkok more than I’ve ever needed to get anywhere. Time was of the essence and the use of my leg was at stake.

She said they would have to check me in later, and wheeled me to some other chairs. At least this time I was close enough that I could see the counter.  Eventually a man came over with a boarding pass for me. Then a woman came to wheel me to the gate. From that point on, they were just wonderful. They rolled me through immigration and security, got me to the gate and on to the plane and put me in an aisle with two empty seats next to me so I could keep my leg elevated the whole time. I don't think I'd been that comfortable since the accident happened. On the plane, they showed the film 'Music Within" about a man who fought for rights for the disabled, and I had a new found appreciation.  

When we arrived in Bangkok, they put me into a lift which drove me to the terminal. Then they brought me a chair, wheeled me in and took me up an elevator. When it opened, Bill was standing there waiting for me. His first response upon seeing my full leg cast, "Your not going to do much surfing like that!" From hear on out it was smooth sailing. They again rolled me through immigration, over to the baggage carousel, through customs and out to the taxi stand. I later learned that the hospital had arranged for my smooth transfer through the airport.

We took a taxi straight to Bumrungrad International Hospital, which I later learned was one of the best in the world. Thanks to Judie’s efficiency, they were waiting for me when I arrived, took x-rays, admitted me, and wheeled me into my very own hospital room, complete with bathroom and television (with multiple English channels).