Chapter Two – Tuesday, April 30, 2024
Leslie had been on the phone with my sister Stacey all night, hatching a plan to get me back to the States. Ironically, we took this cruise specifically because we did not want the hassle of having to fly anywhere. Flying used to be fun. Glamourous even. Not anymore. Now it’s awful, cramped, unfriendly and a big fat pain in the ass. So, we chose this cruise even though I had been to three of the four ports and Mexico many times, starting when I was 16 with my Spanish class. But it was an easy drive to Port Everglades from our house to board the ship.
We called our families as soon as we realized just how badly I was hurt and how royally we were screwed. All of our kids were shocked, scared and worried. We promised to update them as soon as we knew something. That’s when my sister sprung into action. In my dedication, I mentioned that my sister knows a lot of people. She has always had a lot of friends. Lifelong friends. Friends in every industry she had ever worked. Friends in high places who know others in high places who get things done with just a phone call. She also had an incredible soft spot in her heart for nonprofit organizations. All of her work almost always involved a benefit and/or donations to one charity or another. I can say for certain that this was the one and only time that she ever called in every one of her favors.
It took her 31 consecutive hours. She arranged a private plane to pick me up at Cozumel International Airport to fly me to Fort Lauderdale International Airport where an ambulance waited to drive me to Miami to the Ryder Trauma Center at Jackson Memorial Hospital for emergency spinal surgery with world renowned neurosurgeon Dr. Timur Urakov.
Poof! Mind blown.
Meanwhile Leslie was the liaison with the Cozumel hospital, the plane and Jackson Memorial, coordinating everything having to do with medical records, scans, and the ambulance to take me from the hospital to the airport in Cozumel. He paid all the bills, secured payment for the private plane, dealt with the passports, the Mexican government and schlepped the suitcases. I watched and listened to each new development. I was in awe of what both she and he had done. Grateful, blessed and very angry. I was seriously injured, tethered to the bed. I was paralyzed with fear of paralysis and pissed off that this had happened to me. Meanwhile Leslie still had a compression fracture in his spine that was going untreated because I needed so much care and his full attention.
While we waited to hear about the flight out, Leslie attended to the suitcases. In their haste, the cabin stewards just threw all our belongings into the suitcases. No folding. No order. It looked like they just wanted to get us out of there as fast as possible. So, Leslie started organizing the contents. Knowing I was going to the hospital in Miami, he packed one of the small bags for me to take with me. Then he arranged for his son to meet us in Fort Lauderdale to take the rest of the bags home. He packed and rearranged for hours. Bending and lifting the heavy bags till his back was screaming for him to stop.
The plane and volunteer staff were ready to come for me in the afternoon, but the Mexican government was holding up the plans. It took them six hours to finally give us the go-ahead to be released.
While we are waiting for clearance, I decide that I will be damned if I was going to leave the hospital naked in an ugly hospital gown to be somehow carried onto a plane with my ass hanging out the back of a gown. I asked Leslie to fish out some comfortable clothes. He refused. I started cursing at him. Every negative emotion I had, terror, fear, frustration, I unleased on him at that moment. Neither of us had much sleep. We were both in pain. Mine being treated with morphine. His untouched. Afraid of the known and unknown that I started to cry again. He finally acquiesced, but he was extremely alarmed that changing into clothes was going to further compromise my already dicey spine. As I started to dress, I realized I couldn’t do this alone. We had to thread the IV through my camisole and shirt. And then thread the catheter through the leg of my yoga pants. I begged him for help. He finally gave in, all the while protesting that I could hurt myself worse with this vanity. After we finally got it done, all there was to do was wait for the ambulance to arrive. At least I was presentable whenever the paramedics decided to arrive.
One important footnote here. Leslie refused to try to sleep. He even refused to rest. After several hours, he finally stopped packing and re-organizing suitcases, but he was exhausted. And, of course, still injured. Our entire world was truly on his shoulders. Our existence, 100 percent his responsibility. He was constantly stressed, worried and even when he would unintentionally doze off, someone needed his attention.
The Reddy Life 