June 5-12
After bidding farewell to Kim the night before, Ruby, Caro and I transferred to Sanur - Ruby to the Mercure and Caro and I to Kamuela Villas and Suites. For those of you who don't know the latter, it's a small property next door to Puri Santrian (roadside). The suite rooms are large, comfortable and tastefully decorated. The balconies with spa are spacious too, but they don't get a lot of breeze, and there wasn't much of a view, so I tended not to use ours much.
It was a good thing the rooms were large, as the pile of loot Caro and I had accumulated in a week was already impressive, and growing all the time. Particularly with Caro, Queen of Spas, now known to me as The Sovereign of Shopping. I gave up trying to put my stuff away - unpacking was too hard. Exhausted, I took my wrist to bed after lunch, while Caro rushed off to continue her mission to keep Bali's economy afloat.
I learnt two important things that day:
1. I snore when forced to sleep on my back, and
2. I must never again take a bath if I'm on my own and only have one usable hand. What a truly scary feeling when I realised I'd managed to get myself into the tub, but now had no idea how I was going to get out again. A buck naked woman doesn't really want to holler for strangers to kick the door down and come haul her out.
That afternoon, I finally accepted defeat... I really did need an x-ray.
The following morning, I went to BIMC Nusa Dua. I was x-rayed immediately and discovered that I had indeed fractured my wrist. The doctor said I should see the specialist, who would tell me my options. Options? Oh dear, I didn't like the sound of that.
After a VERY long wait - the surgeon was caught in a major traffic jam - I discovered I had a choice of (a) an operation under local to manipulate my bones back into place, (b) an operation under general to manipulate my bones back into place, (c) an operation under general to my pin bones back into place. I went for option (b).
Here are a few facts: the hospital won't do anything without a credit card guarantee. Treatment is not cheap. Pre-op procedures are the same as you'd have at home, and post-op care is just as attentive as you'd receive in a private clinic at home, if not more so. Oh, and myanaesthetist was particularly attractive - I wanted to pack him in bubble wrap and take him home with me.
I woke from the op, bright and lucid, with my arm in a cast, and was wheeled to my room. My $500 a night room had an ensuite, a pushbutton bed and a telly, which was about all I needed. I ate a light meal and watched the latest episode of Game of Thrones before the sedative kicked in and let me sleep.
The next morning I was visited by a gazillion medical professionals, all plying me with questions and checking this and that. Discharge paperwork took an eternity. I danced about impatiently, eager to get out of there. ‘Will you be much longer?' I asked. ‘I need to be back in Sanur by 11, as we're getting picked up to go to Prana Spa.' You should have seen the look on the nurses' faces! But I was not about to cancel Prana for anybody or anything; I'd wanted to go there for years. Plus I'd already paid in full, and it wasn't cheap. With only five days left of my holiday, I was going to make the most of them, broken wrist or not.
I'm so glad I made the effort, because I can now cross Prana off my wish list. What a treat! A fantastic, exotic place filled with rich colours, Moroccan lamps, latticework and tapestries. My treatment package had to be modified, of course - plaster casts don't respond favourably to mud and steam - but I had a cream bath instead, and a half body massage (the bits that didn't hurt). I had my first ayurvedic treatment too, a deeply relaxing experience that sent me rapidly to sleep - on my back. I snored long and loud, my snores clashing with the soothing music, and lowering the tone of the place no end.
That night, Ruby brought a bottle of Medicinal Moet to our hotel, to toast the end of her holiday and my birthday. Her flu symptoms hadn't let up, and she needed that medicine to keep her on her feet. I needed the medicine to dull the pain. We decided on Sale e Pepe for dinner. The veal involtini were excellent but my spuds were way too salty. An added bonus was the free shot of limoncello - although Caro was a bit surprised when she got hers, as she thought she was being served some sort of dessert.
Ruby dragged herself home the next day, one very sick person, while I dragged myself from bed to breakfast table. All I was good for were little outings and naps.
Damn, and I'd been dreaming about the Sanur part of the holiday for months. Oh, the things I was going to do: frequent dips in the pool; long walks along the beach, with regular stops at beachside cafes; exploring new local eateries and boutiques; spa treatments, and just chilling in general.
That was the dream.., the reality was something else entirely. I couldn't go in the water, for a start. I did lower myself cautiously into the pool once, holding my damaged arm high above my head, to keep the plaster dry - it wasn't much fun. I really wasn't up for long walks of any sort, particularly not in the humidity, wearing a heavy cast lined with fleece. Everything I did took three times longer than usual, and pain was a major factor. Things I took for granted turned into an ordeal, like taking showers, getting dressed, cleaning teeth, getting in and out of bed... doing just about everything, come to think of it. Eating was a problem at times too - embarrassing for someone my age having to ask people to cut her food.
Airconditioning was my lifesaver. Airconditioned taxis, airconditioned shops, airconditioned restaurants. So I ate and shopped and tried to keep cool. I discovered the therapeutic effect of ice cream, even if holding a cup and using a spoon was tricky (cones were too drippy). I indulged in huge scoops of coconut sorbet, salted caramel and almond ice cream from the place outside Hardy's. Delish!
Caro and I went for another great Sunday brunch - this time at The Mulia in Nusa Dua. Totally different to St Regis - not as big, for a start, and completely different types of food. I broke my rule about not eating seafood in Bali, and got stuck into the sweetest, juiciest prawns, and lots of exotic fishy tidbits. The desserts were scrumptious. I forked out an extra $25 or so for the wine package, which was worth every gulp. Ahhhh, nothing quite like the bottomless glass...
After the fall, I'd vowed never to wear anything but thongs again in Bali. My Peter Keiza beaded thongs with padded soles, arch support, and sturdy moulded treads, were perfect. Comfortable, pretty and amazingly durable for Bali shoes, which never fail to wear out or break within a season. I thought I'd better pop back to Matahari and buy some more. There wasn't much of a range at Galleria when I was there, so I decided to visit Kuta Square. I bought four pairs, as well as two bags for The Princess. I also went to Bagus Watches for the first time ever. It was packed with shoppers, and I wasn't surprised. All that bling! All those fab goodies - totally illegal, of course. How I'd managed to avoid the shop all those years of going to Bali I have no idea, but it will be on my regular visit list from now on!
My last few days were very quiet indeed. Dinner beachside at the Puri Santrian restaurant one evening, where I had an excellent risotto. Dinner another evening at Cafe Jepun, which came with glowing recommendations from Trip Advisor reviewers. Maybe we were just there on a bad night, but my sesame chicken was horrid. I'd asked the waitress to cut up half my portion of chook. At first mouthful, I knew I wouldn't be eating the other half. The waitress had other ideas. ‘I cut other half for you now?' ‘Erm, no thank you, I'm full up.' ‘No, no, I cut, you eat!' My goodness, she was insistent - I thought she was going to sit down beside me and do the ‘one for Mummy, one for Daddy, one for God' bit, and make sure I cleaned my plate.
Finally it was time to go home. I was ready to be at home, but I didn't want to undergo the process of getting there. After all, flying through Singapore with an arm in a sling would make for a very long day. Not much fun coping with two heavy bits of hand luggage, a handbag and suitcase, and only one hand. For once I used a porter. I decided against paying for lounge access and opted for a cafe instead, where I could read my book and wait. No, I didn't want anything to eat, as I'd soon be sitting on my Jet* flight, enjoying business class food and comforts, right?
Wrong. My flight to Singapore was one-class. Nothing to eat and nothing to drink, unless I paid for it. Which I didn't feel inclined to do, particularly as I couldn't pay cash.
By the time we landed, I was ravenous - not to mention parched. I was struggling with my carry-on luggage, no idea of where I was going and what I'd do when I got there, and becoming increasingly flustered. The next moment, I heard a voice behind me: ‘Can I carry that for you?' It was Shaun, a delightful 24 year old doctor returning home to Singapore after a few days R&R in Bali. Not only did he carry my bag, but he led me to a food court, established what I liked to eat, bought me a nasi lemak and settled me at a table with my book and meal, before finally going home himself.
Sometimes the kindness of strangers just blows me away.
I should also mention at this point the lady at K*mala the day I fell, who heard of my accident and arrived at my room with painkillers and advice, having recently recovered from broken bones herself. Thank you to you too!
That's pretty much the end of my saga. Uneventful flight home, arrived early on the morning of June 13, my birthday, no problems with Immigration when I was unable to sign my official form, or with Customs either, for that matter. I went straight home and consulted my GP that day.
Although I saw my own doctor immediately, it took another two weeks to get my plaster redone at the Fracture Clinic. Because my Bali cast had been split for me to fly home, and bound with a bandage that I could loosen, it turned out that my broken wrist was allowed too much movement for three weeks, and had healed in the wrong position.
Before I finish, I should add that I had ANZ credit card insurance. I've submitted my claim but am still waiting to be reimbursed the three grand that I'm owed.
The plaster was removed last Thursday, but my hand's next to useless. If, after three months of physiotherapy, it's still stiff and painful, I'll need to have it rebroken and reset. Oh, the joy!
I just hope that I'll be in good enough nick to enjoy the next trip with The Princess in January. This time I'm not making grand plans. Three or four nights in Legian, and then Sanur for the duration, with maybe a trip to Nusa Lembongan.
I'm leaving my email address open, if you have any queries, or if you'll be in Sanur then and want to catch up, let me know.
Cheers
Meredith