I Spilled My Beer

I was enjoying the view of Korcula from the top of our boat. The stars were out, it was dark, the old city was beautiful. A can of local beer was in my hand, being sipped slowly as the beer gods intended.

This wasn’t my first beer, nor would it be my last, but this beer was just as special as all the others. It had one job in its existence, to get in my belly. And I failed it.

As I toppled over a protrusion on the deck, I tried with all my might to save it. But alas, as I lay there in agony, all I could do was watch the last few drops of golden manna spill out of the can and flow away into the night.

We rushed to the hospital, but upon arrival, was told there was no x-ray machine, and it was a one hour drive to the nearest trauma center in Split. Not wasting any time, we got in a cab and began the journey.

After x-rays, and a consult with a specialist, I was told my arm was broken and would need surgery. “What about my beer?” I asked. They were not amused.

Since that night, it’s been a whirlwind. A drive back to Korcula, some drug fueled sleep on the boat, frantic planning to get the hell out of Croatia were those bastard doctors didn’t even care about my beer, and now I just landed in Prague, where they definitely care about their beer, and their doctors and hospitals are some of the best in Europe.

What I know right now:

  • I have a facture of the humerus
  • It will require an open reduction surgery
  • It will require a minimum 4 day hospital stay and months of recovery
  • The beer didn’t make it

Obviously, this all sucks. The pain has been miserable. Not being able to do things on my own is frustrating. Not yet knowing when surgery will take place or what the outcome will be is nerve wracking.

On the other hand, the positive outpouring has been astounding. One of my friends (Candy) and the boat rep (Peter) went all the way to the hospital in Split with me and back. Candy cut her vacation plans short and took an overnight bus from Dubrovnik to Split wth me. Matt, from another RY tribe took care of the luggage we left in Split and gave us a place to rest after the bus. Then Candy flew with me back to Prague. My fellow Meraki covered the cost of the flight, and another remote (a different Matt) from yet another tribe is putting us up for 10 days in Prague.

Throughout this traumatic experience, the strength, unity, and heart of this entire remote year nation has done everything in its power to make this a better experience.

I’ve been asked so many times “Why are you doing this? It would be do much cheaper on your own.” Well, this is why. This community constantly amazes me, surprises me, downright blows me away.

Thank you to all of you who made this experience suck less for me. It’s going to get worse before it gets better, but I know it’ll be fine with you guys by my side.