A twist of fate in the mountains
It was one of those beautiful autumn days when the trees that carpeted the mountains in Montenegro were turning a golden orange. Leaves take their time. Little did I know that there was going to be a change in me, and it would take place in the blink of an eye.
My former classmates from the Assumption Convent and I were on vacation in the Balkans and after four splendid days in Dubrovnik, Perast and Kotor, we were in the mountains near Tara in Montenegro famous for its zip-line.
The area was like a painting, different hues forming patterns on the mountains, like a multi-colored puzzle where all the pieces fit. I decided not to take the zip-line but climbed a gravel hill to have a closer look at my classmates’ exhilarating adventure. After shouting out, “You can do it!” to a classmate, I proceeded down the hill. And a twist of fate changed my life.
Some gravel had pried loose from the earth on which I stood and I slipped. Instinctively, I used my feet to break my fall, steady myself and protect my head and hips.
After a second or two, I tried to get up. Alas, I saw my ankle disfigured before my horrified eyes.
My classmate Andie Recto and friend Cathy Engstrom rushed to my aid.
“Lean on me,” Cathy whispered. “And take deep breaths.”
Andie took off my shoe upon my request and propped my foot on her knee as I waited for the ice that I requested from a nearby restaurant. After what seemed like forever, the ice arrived.
It was a stroke of good fortune that the father of our Montenegrin guide Dino Pepic is an orthopedic surgeon and heads the orthopedic department in the major hospital in the capital, Podgorica. Dino’s father made arrangements for me at the hospital, which was about four hours away.
In the meantime, I decided I needed first aid. Since it would take an ambulance 30 minutes to get to the accident site, it was agreed upon that the tour bus, with everyone aboard, would take me to the clinic first. I was carried by Good Samaritans to the bus and off we went up and down a zigzag road to the nearest clinic. I think this was the most perilous part of the journey because I had no idea about the extent of my injury. I was afraid every bump and hump on the road would further dislocate my broken bones.
Andie, Dino, classmate Sandy Lamb-Moran and another classmate Maite Duarte’s husband Ricardo took turns holding my left foot up with one hand while pressing a pack of ice to my ankle with the other. I think, even then, the bones started to align, somehow. Amazingly, the pain was almost nil.
I could still admire the autumn leaves from where I lay on the bus. It was still a beautiful day. The autumn leaves were changing. And so was I.
***
After what seemed like forever, we arrived in the clinic. Our able driver Wesco managed to take me there in one piece.
Medical care in Montenegro is free, and I would say, good. A couple of X-rays were taken and an orthopedic doctor, assisted by some three others, held my leg steady as they applied a cast from my foot to my knee. Perhaps, they thought I would be screaming in pain, but I didn’t feel any significant pain.
The nurse by my side didn’t speak English but she communicated a thousand and one comforting lullabies to me by gently stroking my hand. The X-rays confirmed the fracture. For my entire treatment, I was only charged eight euros, for the X-rays.
From the clinic, I would be taken by ambulance to the main hospital in Podgorica, where I could possibly spend the night. Since he spoke the language, Dino stayed with me. He never left my side throughout my ordeal.
“We regard every tourist as a personal guest,” he told me. “So when something happens to him or her, we are devastated.”
Andie, who was my roommate during the trip, wanted to stay with me as she imagined that if she were in my shoes, she wouldn’t want to be left alone. I assured her that I was going to be okay. I mean, we were going to the hospital where Dino’s father was chief of the orthopedic department. How lucky could I get?
While I was in the clinic, I consulted Dr. Brix Pujalte, head of the Philippine Orthopedic Center in Quezon City and an old friend. Thank God the phone signals and Internet were good in the mountains. Though it was 1 a.m. in Manila, he took my call. I sent him the X-rays and he said my bones “were not that displaced.”
Yes, in the midst of everything, I was counting my blessings. And they were still a lot.
***
It took about four hours to reach the capital. In the main hospital there, my foot was X-rayed again, with the same results. Fortunately, they saw no need to keep me overnight. I was discharged after observation and a prescription for anti-inflammatory medicines, painkillers and an injection for deep vein thrombosis. After I was wheeled to the lobby on a gurney, the nurse gave me a pair of crutches and told me to get up. “He says it would be good for you,” Dino said. So I hobbled on crutches (which were definitely not my size as Montenegrins are the tallest people in the world) to the driveway. No ambulance was available to take me back to the hotel in Kotor 2 1/2 hours away so Dino hired a taxi. Dino is from Podgorica, so he dropped by his house and got me some snacks as it was around 9 p.m. and I hadn’t eaten yet. Neither had he.
Then we were on our way to my home away from home, the Hippocampus Hotel in Kotor. By this time, the miles and the minutes were getting longer and longer and I was eager to hit the sack.
We arrived Kotor past 2 a.m. Andie and my other classmates Sandy and Ramona Diaz were waiting for me by the side gate of the Old Town despite the unholy hour. Our hotel did not have a wheelchair and no vehicles are allowed within Kotor’s historic walls. So, from the side gate of the Old Town, Dino and the taxi driver carried me to my hotel like I was Cleopatra.
I paid the driver 50 euros for the 45-euro fare and he returned the change to me; I asked him to keep it.
In my room, I managed to clean up, change into my pajamas. I made it to my bed in one piece. I was home safe, and in no pain.
What a day it had been. I thanked God that despite the mishap, I was finding kindness everywhere: selfless friends; expert doctors, nurses and drivers; a kind guide whose father was an authority on my kind of injury!
There would have to be changes in our travel arrangements and there were several calls to be made, not the least of which to my travel insurance representatives, but I decided to let tomorrow take care of itself. That night, I was going to claim restful sleep. I was postponing making a call to my husband Ed, because I didn’t want him to worry all the way in the Philippines, where he could not do anything about my situation. If anything, this “twist of fate” in the mountains has taught me to live each day — one at a time. And that twists of fate can be dances of faith.
(To be concluded.)
(You may e-mail me at [email protected]. Follow me on Instagram @joanneraeramirez.)
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