Raise your hand if you know someone traveling in Cairns who went to the Tablelands!?
(raise your hands)
And who swam in Josephine and Milla Milla Falls!?
(raise your hands)
And who snorkeled in the Great Barrier Reef!?
(raise your hands)
And who dove in the Great Barrier Reef!?
(raise your hands)
And who almost fucking drowned and spent 6 nights in an Australian hospital with an oxygen mask and sporadic nebulizer on, because her lungs were full of sea water after her mouthpiece got knocked out when she was 12 meters underwater?!
(raise your hands)
I think that pretty much sums it up.
I'm alive, but I'm definitely less chipper than I was on Monday morning.
And don't you worry, I'm going over to the diving company in about 20 minutes to pick a bone the size of my hospital bill.
And at least my diving story gets me street cred, as opposed to all those skinny German tourists who just have stupid tan lines from their wet suits to prove they went anywhere.
For details, email. Otherwise I'll post more about my next move as I know more.
And for the record: FUCK YOU, BALD DIVING INSTRUCTOR. FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR FUCKING ACCENT.
(5 hours later)
Ok. Building my bridge. Getting over it.
Getting to Sydney, to be exact.
And while that 3 night hospital stay wasn't necessarily an ideal use of my time, it did put things into perspective.
For example, I didn't have a stroke and now have to use a diaper and eat a soft diet.
I also didn't drown.
Little victories, I suppose.
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