Some trips are just meant to be more memorable. And this one was.
As I planned for Australia and New Zealand, I had it all figured out. A mixture of an amazing cruise on Crystal, land tours hitting spots I’d longed to see and which weren’t included in the cruise itinerary. Big adventure combined with total indulgence. My article on a day of bungee jumping followed by an evening of complete pampering at one of Conde Nast’s top 10 spas in the world was already sketched out in my mind. Two days of wine touring in some of the best wine regions in the world. Maori culture. Snorkeling with whale sharks and dolphins. And penguins too! A heap of new knowledge with which to help my clients. Plus a visit with my best friend. Who wouldn’t be excited?
It didn’t work out that way.
Instead, I got a reminder about how things can change. And practice in dealing with some of the worst that can be thrown at a traveler. Coping my way through it all on my own. Where was my travel agent when I needed her? In all honesty, even with all the resources I had at my disposal, I can’t imagine going through everything without an agent on my side. Even if that agent had to be me.
I thought of and tried out a lot of potential titles for this article. When bad things happen to good travel agents? Nope, that’s a bit too conceited. Up in the air and down under? Cute, but not right.
The Accidental Medical Tourist. Yes, that’s the one. Medical tourism is a huge market and growing every year. I just didn’t expect to be included in those numbers. Not now. Not without coming home looking “rested” or at least nipped and tucked.
My long time readers and clients will know that I’m a huge proponent of travel insurance for a number of reasons many of which are due to personal experience. Heading down to South America a couple years ago, a flight got cancelled and I had to be put up for 24 hours and re-arrange the schedule. Before that, in China, I’d contracted pneumonia and bronchitis, ended up on IV antibiotics in Beijing and had to stay over several extra days until ready to fly. Along with other assorted personal travel glitches. Not to mention everything from noro incidents, hurricanes, missed port calls with cancelled excursions, and family emergencies which my clients have faced. Now I have yet another reason to help those on the fence about trip insurance realize it really is an important part of travel for everyone.
For years, I’ve talked with my clients facing long plane rides about strategies to make it safer and easier on them. Limit alcohol and caffeine. Drink lots of water. Move around as much as possible. Choose airlines with as much leg room as you can. Upgrades using points as the best use of all those accumulated miles in your account if you can. Purel everything. And so forth. I’ve personally flown the two longest non-stop flights in the world (Los Angeles to Singapore and Singapore to Newark)… four times. I think of a Transatlantic flight as only one good James Patterson novel in length. So you think I’d be fine on a routine flight from San Francisco to Sydney, especially with a lay-flat business class seat, right?
Wrong.
Long story very short, when I arrived in Sydney and deplaned, I couldn’t breathe. Had a hint of something not quite right on the plane, but it became painfully clear (pardon the pun) when I exited the plane and started walking to immigration. Was taken on a gurney by paramedics straight from the luggage hall in Sydney International to the closest hospital, exiting out through the back halls of customs with a personal customs officer as my escort. It was definitely one way to get around the sometimes onerous agricultural inspections in Australia. But I wouldn’t recommend it.
As you may have guessed, I had developed blood clots in my lungs on the flight. Both lungs. Probably caused by deep vein thrombosis (DVT) in my legs or pelvis, but no way to know for sure. Perhaps I didn’t move around enough (I was sleeping very soundly) or wasn’t fully hydrated. Could even be a genetic predisposition to which we were previously unaware. Maybe just one of those things we’ll never know. Regardless, there I was, in the hospital. Alone. In a foreign country where they speak a form of English. Thankfully.
This all happened two days after the health care vote in the US. Let’s say treading the mine field of questions asked by the medical professionals who were responsible for my care that first day may have been one of the most difficult parts of the experience. Combine that with the hospital ward to which I was admitted which wasn’t sex-segregated and a young Indian “gentleman” who leered at me across the room from his hospital bed every time his mother left the room, and that first day was rather interesting.
I had unintentionally become a medical tourist in a foreign hospital. Most medical tourism these days is well planned, quite comfortable, and to save money over similar procedures in the US. Not me. I had to do things the hard way.
So, being all alone as the solo traveler I usually am, who did I call when I first obtained my diagnosis and was admitted? Did I call family? My closest friend who happens to live in Australia? Of course not. I called my trip insurer. And then emailed them quite a lot while they coordinated my care, discharge, changes in plans and eventual evacuation back home when I was finally cleared to fly again. Oh do I love unlimited Blackberry international email! Not to mention Skype!
I have to thank all the individuals who helped make this incident more bearable. The medical staff at both the public and private hospitals were fantastic. The ER physician in particular who wouldn’t give up without a clear diagnosis was amazing. The thoracic physician and his assistant whose descriptions of A Midsummer Night’s Dream almost made up for missing it at the Sydney Opera House. Jean-Philippe, the General Manager of the Sydney Harbour Marriott who, when he learned I had just been discharged from the hospital, brought me slippers and a gift of lovely bath toiletries so I’d feel more comfortable during my stay at his hotel. The wonderful doctor and nurses on Crystal Symphony who brightened my cruise every day at 5P when I’d visit. Roland, Josef and Bart made everything happen and be memorable in the incomparable Crystal way. Of course my new friends from the Avenue Saloon, Sushi Bar and Vintage Room who kept me laughing and sane throughout, and whom I now miss terribly. And Kristin, who though she was on the other side of the continent, listened every time I had an emotional break down and whom I know would have been at my side if I’d really needed her.
But the good memories and experiences wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for my trip insurance. While yes there were times when I had to navigate the bureaucracy of it all, just like everyone, they still made it work all the while making sure to keep me safe and monitored. I wasn’t alone. They watched out for me.
Of all the scenarios involving pulmonary emboli, I was extremely lucky. I know one of my 9 lives is gone forever. I’m thankful to be here.
So for those who think they can travel without insurance, think again. This or other medical events can happen to anyone. At any time. On a 14 hour Transpacific flight in business class or a 2-hour hop on Southwest to Ft. Lauderdale. In the car driving to the port. Or to your favorite Aunt Betty at home when you’re on a cruise in St. Thomas. My primary insurance is picking up much of the medical costs, but the trip insurance is covering the tens of thousands of dollars in evacuation expenses to get me home, my considerable deductable, the housing in Sydney while I recuperated, the upgrade to a private hospital and other uncovered medical items, the cancelled flights, excursions and other plans, and the dozens of other miscellanea.
I won’t be flying for awhile. But I’m home, recovering, and financially no worse for wear. I have memories which will last me a lifetime. Just very different ones from what was planned. Unlike William Hurt in “The Accidental Tourist” I embrace all the unknowns about travel. I’m always the enthusiastic traveler. As The Accidental Medical Tourist in my own life story, I found the joy in the situation and what unfolded. Not the trip I planned. But probably even more memorable in many ways. I was free to enjoy what could be achieved on this trip thanks to trip insurance. Be an explorer, but be covered.
Yes, I did get a lot of new information about Australia and New Zealand. I know Sydney far better than I’d planned (which is a very good thing). I did get to most of the ports and tasted the wine (and chocolate!), even if it wasn’t as much as I’d hoped. I learned more about what my clients who are physically challenged face on a cruise and can now better guide them in these areas. Because I went at a slower pace in ports, I got to talk more with people even as I “did” less. So I ended up learning even more in unexpected places. A successful trip for any travel agent I’d have to say. And even a success for this adventurous traveler.
I can’t wait to go back and do all those planned activities and experiences I missed. And I will. I can because I had trip insurance.
Maybe now since I’ve already been a medical tourist, I should investigate the nip and tuck in Singapore next time I head out that way… Nah. Not quite yet at least. Ask me again in 10 years.
Labels: Australia/New Zealand, blood clots, cruise, Crystal Cruises, Crystal Symphony, medical tourism, TravelGuard, Trip insurance
