'Bonjour Maman! Still having the best time, on my way to Airlie Beach now. Fingers and toes are still numb but sure allergy tablets will work soon! Hope it's not too nippy noodles there. Love love xx' This is the message I text my Mum whilst on the bus to my hostel from Mission Beach. I was completely exhausted from staying awake the night before, so I snuggled down to forget the oddness that was my extremities and went straight to sleep.
After checking into my hostel, with a surprisingly nice room, I briefly went online and had a cheeky search at some of the symptoms I was experiencing. Hmm...perhaps it's vitamin deficiency! After all, one cannot live off 'Fantastic Chicken Flavoured Noodles' (occasionally beef flavoured if I was going really crazy) alone; and somewhere I'd read online that pins and needles could be a lack of the correct vitamins. I went out and bought some milk, fruit and chocolate, although admittedly I doubted the chocolate would help. After munching down in my room I fell asleep soon after. The next morning was...stressful.
I was planning to sail the Whitsundays, but when I awoke I felt pretty horrendous. To save money I'd been sleeping in my daily contact lenses and my eyes felt awful, and as I went to take them out I realised my arms were a bit heavy; because I had no sensation in my fingertips it was a bloody mission to get them out. The girl getting ready next to me surely thought I had Tourette's I swore so much, and even showering was such a task! What the hell was going on?
I packed a bag with some difficulty, and as I was to find out later, life is very tough when you can't feel anything. Still, I put the rest of my stuff in the hostel storage room, and went to check in at the sailing shop; however, as soon as I walked in I burst into tears and explained to the very kind women all of the strange things that had started happening to me. Whilst I insisted I would still be fine to sail for two days and two nights, I did agree to get a doctors appointment, and I even scrounged a lift off the husband of one of the receptionists.
Feeling like I was making a fuss over nothing, I walked into the doctors surgery apprehensive and confused. It turns out I had no need to worry as the doctor assured me after a 'full neurological exam' (that took less than five minutes) that I was surely just suffering from 'stress and anxiety'. Now, I did try to explain that as a backpacker, the biggest worry I'd had the last two weeks was what I was going to do when my mascara ran out and whether or not to spend $5 on a hat. I was definitely not stressed. Still, I felt reassured so I left the surgery and hitched a ride back into town.
I picked up some supplies for the boat trip, in the form of goon and a six pack of cider, and started walking to the harbour. This ended up being a fairly arduous journey for my arms still felt strangely heavy, as if packed with lead, and we all know goon is no light weight. I feel here I should perhaps clarify the term 'goon'. It was first bought to my attention during my travels in New Zealand a few years before; apparently 'If you can finish a whole goon you're a man' (terribly sexist but there we go). It is basically a box of wine or perhaps a pre-mixed vodka, the equivalent of 21 drinks. Once you have finished your goon you can blow up the foil bag and use it as a pillow, which is often necessary after its consumption.
Anyway, I made it to the boat and got talking to everyone and merry times were had. I ended up discussing my numbness with a very lovely Norwegian couple and a German guy, and the general consensus was that I had a trapped nerve in my back. Plausible. When I awoke the next morning feeling pretty much the same, this explanation made more sense so I began to look forward to the day ahead.
We split into two groups and got dropped off on Whitehaven beach, one of the many small and stunning islands that make up the Whitsundays. We started on our way to one of the lookouts but I soon fell behind. I believe this is the first moment I got scared; walking was hard. I was struggling to walk up the path stairs but I was determined to make it and eventually I reached the top where everyone else was waiting. The view was spectacular, and if I had been feeling normal I would've been grinning like a cat. Instead I did my best to get some photos, whilst the girl behind me was moaning that we had to be up so early. I wanted to scream 'I can hardly walk and we are in one of the most beautiful places in the world and you're moaning because your tired! What is wrong with you?!' That is something I really despise in travellers; there you are seeing something wonderful and they're complaining because they haven't had their morning coffee or a shower. Crazy.
We then walked across the whitest sand I've ever seen, but we walked so far I was genuinely worried that I wouldn't be able to make it back. At this stage I had to ask one of the girls to tie up my hair because my arms just wouldn't lift that high. In hindsight alarm bells should've been ringing...it's not every day you find it hard to walk and your toes and fingers go numb. But I'd seen a doctor and he said I'd be fine! Lucky for me the Captain moved the boat our side of the island so after a long rest whilst everyone else explored (and after a shallow swim in my stinger suit...I wasn't missing out!) I made it back to the boat with everyone else.
That afternoon we had the chance to snorkel the reef; how many opportunities would I have to do this in my life? I donned my stinger suit and got in with the help of a float and some flippers and saw some truly awesome fish. Big ones, small ones, electric blue ones, many that didn't even look like fish. It was great, and being in the water I felt weightless, a sweet relief after feeling more and more like my body had been possessed by the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Then I had to get back to the boat. Shit. I was flipping my flippers as hard as a could but my weakened limbs couldn't handle the current. Crap! Thankfully the Captain saw me and got Liam, the guy in charge of us, to collect me in his raft and I weakly held onto the sides whilst he towed me back. The Captain had to practically drag me up the ladder.
That night, try as I did to join in the fun, I went to bed at 8am. I had a feeling goon was going to help me no more. By this stage I couldn't even turn off the light in my cabin as it was too high, and I was afraid. A fretful nights sleep ensued, and I had those really annoying dreams where I needed to pack and move things but couldn't quite move my body. I was unaware at this point how close to reality these dreams would be...I'd have preferred it if my dream of turning into a polar bear catching fish had come true, but what can you do?
I called my parents the next day and they gave me the second best piece of advise they'd ever given, the first being 'Never turn down an invite!' This time it was simple. 'Go to hospital'.
Another couple I'd made friends with during this voyage had a camper van and very generously drove me to Proserpine Hospital pretty much as soon as we got off the boat. I thanked them and walked into the emergency department. Well, I stumbled, as my legs were behaving worse than the time I attempted a yard glass of vodka, and a nurse half carried me straight to a bed.
Surely they'd quickly exam me, decide a drip of antibiotics would do the trick and then I'd be merrily on my way. Instead they examined me, went away whispering and then Dr Tracy said this...'We're worried'.
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