The one when I was airlifted to hospital.

For those of you that don't follow me on Instagram, on Thursday night I was airlifted out of Abel Tasman National Park to Nelson General Hospital.  

I'd been having issues for a week or so prior to the incident, as my body struggled to adjust to a New Zealand diet after a month of eating next to nothing in India. We'd walked for 6 hours on Thursday, down through the National Park to a bay called Anchorage where we'd planned to spend the night on a boat hostel. After dinner, everything came to a head and I went to bed around midnight knowing that I wasn't quite right. 

I woke at 2am in pain I'd never experienced before. By 3am I was vomiting and nearly losing consciousness. Alice and Lou sat with me through the whole thing, fetching buckets and meds and people. By 5.30am, there was no improvement and the pain just seemed to be getting worse. 

The hardest part was just not knowing what to do. We were in the middle of the sea, in a park with no road access and medical care was over 2 hours drive away. I was in so much pain I could hardly stand and completely unable to make decisions. Usually I know what to do. I know what I need and how to sort out any problems; but this time I had no idea. I'd never been in so much pain. 

At 6am the skipper carried me onto his speed boat, closely followed by Alice and Lou. Still wrapped in a duvet, Lou held me up for the whole 25minute ride to stop me knocking myself out on the boat. Drama ensued, in ways that only they can tell you, and the two of them witnessed the first perk of the problem in the shape of one of the best sunrises so far. 

Sunrise over Abel Tasman

The ambulance met us at the beach and after I basically told the guy which vein was the only one that would work if he hoped to get a line in, I got the morphine I needed. As soon as that, and the anti-sickness meds, had kicked in, I asked the girls for a selfie and they knew everything was going to be okay.

I've looked better 

The helicopter picked the three of us up from a nearby field and we went on a 10 minute ride over the National Park. Queue perk two of the traumatic episode... The views from the chopper were bloody awesome (...apparently. I was too high to notice.) 

The first thumbs up of the morning 

Things started to improve after we got to Nelson. More painkillers kept the tummy cramps at bay,  the colour returned to my cheeks and after an hour or so I finally warmed up. X-rays showed a huge blockage so I had to bargain with the surgeons and doc to be released (Cum'on it's me after all!) 

Arriving in style

The last few days have been pretty shit but I can now (almost) safely say I am back to normal. I'm not entirely sure what caused the problems, but I'll do everything I can to stop it again. 

The girls were amazing. They told me afterwards how scared they'd been and how tears had happened once they knew they were allowed in the helicopter with me, though i'd had no idea of the chaos going on around me. They were calm throughout (though their version of events is a little of hectic) and knew what I needed. They sat with me from 3am, sounded the alarm when it was clear we needed help, and made the call when I was unable to. I don't know why it always surprises me how well my friends understand my condition, but I was in awe of how well they both coped with the situation and am inexpressibly grateful that they were there.

A couple of days later, I'm on the mend

A reciprocal agreement with New Zealand and the UK meant the emergency response and all my treatment was free (much to the relief of my father), but I'm just thankful this happened here and not in the middle of the Rajahstany desert.

This wasn't the blog post I thought I'd be writing, but I've had many a concerned message from home so wanted to ensure everyone that I'm doing a-okay and thank all those that have been in touch. 

My broken little body soldiers on, just a little more battered and bruised than before.

So much love. L x 

That awkward moment when you find yourself in the middle of a paddy field.

3 years ago I travelled around south east Asia with my best friend. My exasperated doctors at the time gave me very few warnings besides telling me to eat lots, drink gallons and take as many salt tablets as possible. The one warning I was given was to, at all costs, avoid paddy fields. There's a mould which grows in the fields that can be highly dangerous to cystics and could easily stop me in my tracks and see me and my backpack bundled back on a plane bound for home.

"All around us are paddy fields" was the line that filled me with dread as we started the drive from Goa airport to Palolem in the South. He wasn't lying either, we were surrounded everywhere we went in both north and south Goa. They stretched for miles, there were reservoirs and aqueducts built to keep them boggy, thousands of people spent their days in there neat, swampy rows; and I wasn't meant to be anywhere near them. 

I don't know if it was the paddy fields that did it. It could have been that, or the combination of a lack of aerobic exercise, a slight drop in weight and the smoking habits of our travelling companions. It could have been that the smog of the cities had finally hit my chest and my poor little lungs just didn't want to fight anymore. Either way 10 days before we were due to leave India, my chest decided it didn't want to be there anymore. 

I've been in New Zealand for over a week now and things are improving. I didn't sleep for days, coughed to the point of sickness a number of times, and seriously considered a trip to the docs. It was really quite shit for a week or so, poor Alice didn't sleep either because my coughing kept her up too, and my appetite also suffered. All that said, I am incredibly proud of my broken little body and all it coped with and achieved. 

India was always going to be my biggest hurdle. The heat, the food, the dirt, the lack of excersise, the means of transport and the limited access to treatment; there were many odds stacked against me and my CF. Yes, I've an infection, but I'm fighting it. I worked so hard to make myself fit enough for this trip: the many hours in the gym, the early morning runs, eating and putting on those precious kilos, saving and saving and saving, all so I could come away and experience everything before my insurance company bit me in the arse and stopped me from exploring. 

I loved India. I loved how much it surprised me. I loved how, after a while, nothing did surprise me anymore because anything goes out there. There are so many preconceived ideas about it as a place and whilst I'm not saying it's the safest place to visit, nor am I letting my little sister head there on her own any time soon, everyone we met seemed to, more than anything, be desperate to disprove the stories and the misconceptions, they wanted us to love their country and their people; and we whole-heartedly did.

The air is clear in New Zealand. We are exercising and eating fruit and veg. My chest is improving and getting over the shock of India. Physio, Cipro, nebs and running are a killer combination.

L xx 

It's hard to travel light when you have CF...

With 18 days to go before I depart on the big trip, I've finally found time to organise all my medication. Honestly? There's actually less than I thought there would be (though there are a few bits still missing). I'm taking over 1,500 tablets with me, two different nebulisers, over 100 sachets of meds and various inhalers. When you put it like that it sounds like loads, but I take over 15 tablets a day!

I've got letters from the consultant to ensure there is no problem taking them through customs, and Alice will be carrying a weeks worth of meds incase something happens to my backpack.

We're getting there!

A Step Forward For Travelling With CF.

The Cystic Fibrosis Trust has, today, announced it's call on the aviation and travel insurance industries to give people with CF the same access to international travel that so many others take for granted.

Read the full story here: http://www.cysticfibrosis.org.uk/news/latest-news/cystic-fibrosis-leaving-travellers-grounded

Backpacking Diaries No.1: Where to?

Backpacking diaries part 1: Where to?