With a Wheelchair back to Mauritius

The night was horrible, I couldn't sleep, and I shat every ounce of water out of my body again, as soon as I had some in me. I was panicking, and Seb was, too as he didn't know what to do. As soon as the first prayers were audible on the streets, Seb made his way to Solofo to ask for the doctor again to see me, as well as go get the medicines he prescribed. I was just trying not to hyperventilate and die.
After an hour or so, the doc was there again, but this time, he seemed a bit less kind. I understood as much French in my diluted state, that he was thinking I'd be just hysterical. He still gave me another infusion. It helped a bit, but I still felt like shit. Seb was always on the phone with the HanseMerkur, asking what we should do. We wanted to travel today, needed to. But at the end of one 3hrs flight and one 12hrd flight, there wouldn't be home, but Paris. We wanted to stay there for another 3 days. I didn't even know how I'd manage the 3hrs flight to Mauritius, let alone a romantic get away in France. I just wanted to get home, get somewhere safer than Madagascar for heaven's sake.
So, after cramming at least five different types of drugs into my mouth, we decided to leave for the airport. It was horrifying. I couldn't even walk properly as I felt so dizzy. My heart was working ovezr time and I was so hot and cold all the time. We sat in the little bus and drove through Tana. I tried to stay conscious and was rewarded with views of the military all around town. They had so many weapons with them. It would have been terrifying seeing this on a normal day. But when you feel weak as fuck and you'd wish yourself to get into a hospital, the last thing you want to see is soldiers pointing guns at you. Okay they weren't pointing at our bus, but it still felt extremely terrifying.
When we arrived at the airport, a wheelchair waited for me. We had spoken to Christian, my boss, and he has managed to organize a wheelchair service for my flights. I was on the brink of crying. I was so relieved that I didn't need to walk. We checked in rather quickly due to the wheelchair service, and past the security check in no time. Then we just had to wait. Kate was waiting with us, too. She gave me some muesli bars, and talked me into drinking more of the damned electrolyte water. I didn't throw up this time, lucky me. I could barely manage to breathe evenly and not panic.
After a while, it was time to say our final goodbyes and board the plane. It's crazy how much everyone looks after you, the moment you're in a wheelchair. We could sit down first, but I actually hated that. More time for me on a stupid plane. I hate planes. I hate flying. I feel without any control. Now, half dying, I felt even worse. But I so badly wanted to get out of this shitty country. And the only way was via plane. Alright then. I braced myself and for the next three hours, my main goal was even breathing. Nothing more, nothing less.
I survived.
And then we landed in Mauritius and I started crying for relief. Safe. Or at least - safer.
Again, we were welcomed by the wheelchair service and got to the gate in no time. I must have looked like death itself, as Seb insisted for me to lay down. I did. I couldn't do anything else. I must have fallen into a feverish sleep, as next thing I know, he came back with some medical staff from the airport. A woman and a man. They both looked at me, checked my vitals. The man asked me to stand up and walk a few steps. I was asking myself, why on Earth I should do that, when I could barely exist sitting. But I stood up, I walked a few meters and sat down as soon as possible. I heard a mumbling. A "she can walk, so she will be able to fly". I've never heard anything more stupid. Seb looked at me, trying to get an answer from me. Can I fly, he asked, multiple times. I refused to answer. I was panicking. I didn't think I could fly, but I didn't want to stay here either. Seb got frustrated - we followed the medical staff into their treatment rooms. We asked for a representative of the Mauritius Airlines as we wanted to ask for a Business class seat for me. The HanseMerkur couldn't rebook me on it but would pay for it if it became available. That wasn't the way I had planned on getting myself a Business class for the first time, but I'd take anything to lay down during the flight. The representative came 15min before boarding. I had gotten yet another infusion in the meantime and Seb has been on the phone with the insurance all the time, discussing what would be best. Honestly, I don't know what would have happened to me, if he hadn't been there, organising everything.
In the end, there was no Business Class seat available for me and Seb and the insurance decided that it would be best for us to stay in Mauritius and get into a clinic to treat me properly.
So, we checked out, immigrated into Mauritius again, got our bags and into a taxi. The ride took about an hour as the clinic was in the North of the island. I had time to think at last. The people on the plane must have been furious about the delay, not knowing that it was because a passenger's luggage had to get out because she was on the brink of death. I would have been for sure. It would mean more time in a stupid plane. The medical staff haven't thought my condition to be so critical, they thought I was hysterical as well. I felt betrayed. How dare they say something like that? Fucking sexists.
We finally arrived at the clinic, it was well past midnight, and there weren't many people around. A woman greeted us, she'd be my doctor. As she looked at me, a worried expression dawned on her face. Then she said "It was the right choice not to get on that plane. You look like a ghost. You need proper treatment." And I felt like crying. Finally, someone who understood me, didn't question me, just wanted to care about me.
She checked my vitals, asked several questions and finally led us to our room. Seb could stay with me, luckily. I was put on a constant infusion, but it was difficult, as my veins have been used too many times in the last couple of days. I had to have it on my left arm now. It didn't matter. She has told me that when a body is so dehydrated, no amount of water I'd drink would be sufficient. Only 30% of that would stay in the body, and this only if I didn't shit it out. With an infusion, we'd increase that to 80%.
I slept for a few hours. I woke up whenever someone came in to check on me and change the infusion. In the early morning, I was wheelchaired to examine my stomach. They did an ultrasound, asked more questions. I had to give them samples of my pee and poo. The results would take a few days, but they'd tell me if they'd find something bad inside my gut. I was constantly thinking about the client we had that went to Madagascar in perfect shape and returned with deadly bacteria in her intestines. Another friend of her traveling group had already died from it as there hasn't been sufficient treatment in Madagascar for it. At least, we were in Mauritius now and I hoped that we'd be back in Germany asap.
Seb continued his many calls with the insurance. In the afternoon, a new doctor, again a man who seemed to think I'd be overreacting, asked when we'd leave. I was so confused. They thought we'd just go back to our hotel in Mauritius, they hardly understood that we came straight from Madagascar to their clinic. They wanted to talk to the insurance and we provided them with the details. Apparently, there was miscommunication, they thought they wouldn't get paid by the insurance. Ffs, I was sick! I hardly had the mind to do small talk, how would I be able to discuss with them legal terms and what not? I was so glad Seb was there, managing everything. He didn't look good either. He was constantly worrying about me and how we'd manage to get home. Around 5pm, finally, the insurance called. We'd go on the plane tomorrow morning, straight to Frankfurt with Condor. I wanted to sob. Home. It was near. I just had to endure one more flight and a train ride home. Then I could cuddle with Aluna again.
I tried to sleep and got some much needed rest. My arm hurt. It had swollen considerably from the infusion and the water that most likely was collecting there.
The next morning, we woke up early, got a lunch pack and were picked up by the same taxi driver from two nights earlier. We had asked him whether we could contact him again for the ride back to the airport once the decision was made. Another wheelchair welcomed me at the airport and I realized how fond I've grown to be towards them. I would be flying Premium Economy, but Seb had a normal seat. I didn't want to endure this awfully long flight on my own, so he asked at the check-in whether there were any seats left in Premium Economy. Luck was on our side, and he paid a mere 175€ for the upgrade. Not a lot for a 12hrs flight, tbh. On the plane, I started shaking. I felt better but what if my state worsened during the flight? There was no way out. I was panicking. Seb tried to calm me down. My arm hurt and I tried to solely focus on that. Rather hurt than panicked.
The flight felt endless. I couldn't really sleep (I never could), and I was constantly thinking that I couldn't die now. I might have been hysterical then. My condition was stable, I wouldn't die, but the feeling of weakness sat deeply in my bones and I have actually never felt that awful in my life. I would survive that. I would love, and see Aluna again soon. That was my motivation, that kept me sane.
Finally, we landed. I have never ever in my life been more grateful to call Germany my home. Here, it was safe. Here, I could recover.
My last wheelchair arrived, brought us to the baggage claim and through customs. The way to the train station, we had to figure out by ourselves. The train ride home was calm and quiet until the end, when Seb finally snapped. He hasn't slept much the last couple of days either. So, I got his frustration, but still.
When we finally were home and I had Aluna in my arms again, I cried of relief and joy.
This horror trip will most definitely haunt me forever. I will never ever think of drinking enough water the same. I'll be way more careful from now on.Read more