I’m sitting in the bar with a towel filled with ice wrapped around my neck. The Chinn luck has, as always, hit.
Sometime after sending my last email, perhaps even as I was sending it, I wrenched my neck badly. The pain started small but built and grew, and by bedtime it was absolutely impossible to sleep, though I did try. By the time I realized I couldn’t sleep due to pain I also realized I couldn’t actually sit up without screaming out, and I wanted Gillian to at least get some sleep.
Gill was sleeping by the bed edge, and our bed was right next to another double, so I couldn’t just roll out of bed, nor could I sit up, since the muscles needed connect all the way up to the neck then bitch slap it around. I do not exaggerate when I tell you that the only way I was able to get out of bed was by pulling myself with my feet to the foot of the bed, then with my knees, then when my torso was more than halfway over allowing gravity to lend a hand. It still hurt like hell, though.
I went down to the concierge in my PJs groggy and only able to look straight ahead and asked for some aspirin. I later brought my computer down to check WebMD to find out what to do, and found out the hot bath I took earlier was a big mistake. Wyatt later reminded me of the RICE acronym for injuries (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevate). All of these come naturally to me except for ice. For some reason I’ve convinced myself to soothe with heat, not ice to reduce swelling, and for a neck injury swelling is what you want to avoid.
So it’s 4am, I’m still awake, and I go back to ask for some ice from the closed barroom. The concierge takes pity on me (and has visible disdain for guests coming in at 4am drunk out of their minds) and gets me a bag full of ice to take up, which I wrap in towels and apply in 20 minute bursts. It’s impossible to sleep, unless I can do it standing up, so I end up listening to my iPod and finishing of The Road by Cormac MacCarthy. At least that’s something.
Gillian had trouble sleeping too, it seems today is a changeover day at the hotel and fresh rowdy and randy guests are up at all hours. What’s more, Gill has picked up a cold and has a nasty sore throat, so she doesn’t get a lot of sleep, either. But she gets a lot more than me. I got none. The most I managed was a half hour nap on a deck chair using a towel of ice as a neck pillow around noon today. It still hurt a lot to get up.
So basically, the holiday was going great, it was a new experience for me and I was having a great time, then on the day we have to leave this happens. I’m still in pain and Gillian feels weak, tired and sore (she just had a nap now). Our bus for the airport leaves at 6:45pm, but there was absolutely nothing either of us could do to enjoy this last day in Callela. Oh well.