Recap of Day 5 & 6, written on day 7 in the morning

​I went to sleep last night listening to a podcast about morning light and your circadian rhythm. So this blog entry is being written while watching the sun rise. (Also I don’t wear sunglasses, do your research and read about the correlation between skin cancer and sunglasses)

Day 5 Aruba.

I woke up and went to the gym. I lasted 15 minutes. This is not something to phone home about but it’s something. It’s the pesky air conditioning and I could feel in my throat, it was starting to hurt. Exercising with a scarf is not a thing. Maybe it should be. 

Then my mom braided to French braids on my wet hair. The lady can’t help her self with the comments (I’m aware the apple hasn’t fallen that far from the tree). She said that I looked like a Mexican school girl. What does one do with these random comments your whole life. You just say ok. She then says, it’s a not a bad thing. 

The next move is when it all turned to shit. Wet hair close to scalp and in air conditioning in the breakfast dinning room is a recipe for disaster. I was already feeling the head cold come in. Why didn’t I politely excuse myself and go back to my room and dry my hair or at least get a baseball cap 🧢 to keep my head warm. Maybe subconsciously I didn’t want to ruin the nice braids my mom brained. Who knows. 

From 13:15 to 16:00 I was on a tour bus seeing all 6 of the districts of Aruba as well as their national park, some caves, some rock formations etc. I’m so fortunate that I can trike up conversations with almost anyone and they seem to like me or warm to me. By the end of the excursion I was ready to vomit so my new friend made sure I was the first person to run off the bus and back onto the ship. As soon as I got to my room I vomited  and then did it again prior to sleeping until the next day. In the end, all I ate that day was breakfast. It’s amazing how humans don’t really need that much food.

Let’s talk about Benjamin the tour guide bus driver and Aruba. Yikes this tiny island was hit bad by the plandemic. So many business closed and have never reopened. We passed loads of restaurants and even a super cool drive-in that is shut, all you can see is the screen and weeds growing in the parking lot. How great would it be for more drive’ins to come back. 

Benjamin was full of stories, he married his first wife when he was 22. She’s Chinese and there are a lot of wealthy Chinese people on the island. He divorced her when he walked in on her shagging another man. He then went on to marry his first kiss. He spoke about  the wages on the island being $2.50 USD an hour and tourists buying up all the good land along the coast. We passed Floyd merriweathers place. 

We also drove down the road with all the big Brad resorts. Oddly enough I wasn’t convinced I would come back and stay. I get the water is beautiful but I’m not a fan of being in a tall building. I think I’ll stick to the all inclusive resorts that I’ve stayed in, in Cuba, Dominican Republic, India and Mexico. (… and yes I can hear the privilege screaming off the rooftops)

Day 6 - Thursday May 7th 2026

I woke up feeling normal again, I looked a little haggard still but all and all it was a huge improvement. I had a fever in the night, not for too long, just long enough for the body to do its thing. 

• side note. Fevers are wonderful, they are signs that your body is working and it’s released toxins in your sweat. Whatever your beliefs are, it’s the universe, Mother Nature, God, yoda. Who cares. Sweating out a fever is good, good, good. I do wish parents would stop freaking out so much when their kid is warm and the pile the tiny being up with pharmaceuticals. 

Family breakfast was fun - not. Now I’m really, really trying to not say anything, pass judgement etc. My moto is, if it’s not hurting the person or anyone else… just let it be. Strike one of the day. 

My dad. He is stick and bones and has a big belly. I use to call it a beer belly but he really doesn’t drink that much beer. He doesn’t exercise much at all other than walking. He use to play volleyball with the seniors but that was more in his 60’s. He’s 81 now. 

Now I don’t know if this is due to my dad growing up dirt poor (in Africa) or the fact that it’s a fully inclusive holiday but the dude is embarrassing when it comes to what he orders. It’s one thing to order loads and eat it. It’s another thing to order food and waste it. 

Breakfast this morning was a disaster, he kept on ordering things, then forgetting what he ordered and almost not touching what he ate. The waiters were a bit fed up too, one of them kindly came to the table and said this was the last order because they had to move to another section. By the end of breakfast he said he would try and order less. He has also come to writing down what he ordered and looking back at the paper many times. This method works well and I think it will help him with his dementia. 

The sibs (siblings) are so judgemental with his dementia. I’m use to it. It’s ramped up in age. I think for most of my teens I would joke around that my dad has selective memory. He would remember what he wants to. In hindsight a cognitive memory test 30 or 40 years ago would have been very helpful. Oh well. 

There is just sooooo much going on and I really really need to remember that. It’s so easy to forget. So my dad will ask the same thing over and over. I’m no doctor but this is my theory. Age, cognitive decline, dementia, prostate cancer medication that’s not helping the dementia (known side affect). On top of that, I believe my father to be on spectrum and have ADD. There is a huge attention deficit going on too. And it’s real because if you can find a topic, subject or interest that he likes. He can carry a pretty good conversation. If he’s not really into the conversation, he’s lost to the fairies. 

Lastly when he was 15ish in Zanzibar, he was messing around with friends or cleaning his ears (I’ll get clear on that story today). There was a pop and his ear drum was perforated. He is completely deaf in one ear. The “good ear” that’s what it was referred to my whole life… is no longer good and he has an hearing aid in that one. 

After breakfast the 5 of us headed off the ship and into the port area of Willemstad Curacao. 🇨🇼 I finally got data via an eSIM. It was sooooo nice to be online again. 

We took a few pictures in our family themed T-shirts and then split up. The sibs took a cab to cocomo beach. (Someone how we all the beach boys song - it was on the soundtrack of Cocktail with Tom Cruise. The cocktail film at the theatres was actually mine or my sisters birthday party. Yikes have you seen it?? It’s very racy for children. Oh well). I didn’t do the beach because of the cab bit. I wanted to be waking distance to the ship. So I spent some time with my mom while I dad rested on a bench. Then I went to the fruit market with my dad while my mom went to an outdoor beach bar and had a cold drink. Then back to my mom where we looked at a few jewellers while my dad went  back to the ship. 

That’s a lot of chop and change but it was fine, and it all flowed well. 

At the jewellers my mom pointed to a bracelet that she liked. I was wearing one almost the same. Mine is lab grown diamonds and gold vermile. So silver with gold plating. It’s still nice and fraction of the price. I gave it to her then and there. She was grateful 

I’m going to wrap this up as I’m melting now on the top deck. 

I made friends in the hot tub jacuzzi, I’ve invited them to the quiz today. 

There are 6 quizzes so let’s see how many I do.

Fun and games, with an A&E visit

Well, hi there, 

Welcome to another edition of the adventures of moi.

For dramatic flair, this entry is being written from the A&E. Sunday night 19:47

It’s been a month! Way more feelings and emotions than this girl is used to. 

A little over 2 weeks ago, I got some new from a friend re the lack of an invitation. This should not and is not a big deal, I was shocked and saddened. I cried for 2 days and internally reevaluated every friendship and interaction I have had. This is very overboard I know. 

Thank god I have a coach. She is a godsend and it’s a privilege that I get to unpick things with her. Pretty much, folks, everything is linked to childhood wounds. Until they are resolved, they show up in many ways. I’ll leave this story here, but all you need to know is I cried A LOT and was VERY sad.

Days later, my mom was in a bad way with her health and in the hospital. She had a few days in the A&E, then home for a day before going in for a procedure and back home. Then she rushed back to the A&E after things got dramatic. This then led to a couple of days in the intensive care unit (ICU). If you’re in the ICU, things aren’t great but I’m mindful of respecting her privacy. She was then discharged to recover and may need an organ removed in the future. 

8 days ago, I received a frantic call from her saying that she wanted to tell me that she loves me and she has this fear of dying. She thought she would die. As an observer, clearly the recent experience she had was very traumatic and triggered. So many people have genuine trauma from hospital experiences. 

Now back to me. Before the call, I was going about my merry business. I saw a fantastic film (which I do want to blog about), The Voice of Hind Rajab, followed by a rare wagyu steak at Flat Iron. 

After the phone call, I ran to the loo. I’ll save the details, just knowing that I ran should explain. A few days later, more issues etc. I eventually had to call in sick at work. We are now on day 8. When it comes to my health, the majority of the time, rest is best. And rest genuinely has worked a a treat. I’m good at resting, I’ve almost mastered it. While resting, I’m hoping my body is healing etc, however, I have had really, really bad cramping throughout. 

This experience so far has been a kick up the backside when it comes to my diet. I need to make big changes to get healthy and to loose this weight. For the last few days, I’ve made healthy wise decisions. I was hoping that my body would be happy with that, and all will be well. 

Unfortunately, again I was back in the painful situation and enough is enough. I know when “the rest” is not working. It’s a Sunday, and not a great day to be unwell but what can you do. At 4pm I knew it was time to seek medical attention; the rest, clean eating wasn’t doing the trick. Instead of fucking getting up and making tracks, I called 111.

I called 111 because I’m pretty sure that I need antibiotics. I was hoping they could prescribe me something maybe. 

There is a part of the brain that thinks I’m not worthy and I don’t want to waste the resources of the National Health Service. I then compare my situation to more severe cases. 

The 111 call lasted 21 minutes, during which they sent me to a pharmacy where I had to go through all the details again, only to be told that they can’t give me antibiotics and I need to go to the A&E. 

So here I am. Now let’s talk about the more important matter/leaning/understanding that came up in my recent coaching session. 

It’s all about parenting the inner child and listening to and attending to those needs. I need to listen to myself more and stop seeking advice and approval from others. I’m still shit at this.

I fucking faffed around for ages with guilt and seeking approval from others. The 2 people I spoke to thought I should go to sleep and wait a few hours for Monday morning to roll around, when I can see my GP. They aren’t wrong, however, by be being here, I’m choosing myself! I’m taking care of me, I’m parenting me.

I’m also grateful as fuck that I live in a country that provides this service to me free of charge. This is where some of my tax-paying money goes. 

Part 2 - written the next day. 

At 23:00, I was seen by a wonderful Emergency Department doctor. She diagnosed me with gastroenteritis. My test results also showed something was up. 

Things take time in a hospital, and I only left 1:30am. During that time, man was I reflecting and counting my blessings. There were many people in pain, distress and fear. I was in a separate room with 6 chairs and an open door. This is where I had an IV drip 💧 of Sodium Lactate. I was also watered and fed. I felt like such a numpty when the beautiful Filipino nurse asked me what I would like to drink. I replied with, what do you have?. She looked at me and said, one 2 things. Tea or coffee. I said tea please and she asked how I would like it. I cheated and had a tiny bit of sugar. She also brought me a chicken sandwich and said they had ham but she thought that I don’t eat ham. (I tell you people, these unconscious bias that we hold runs deep. Just because of my colour, it doesn’t mean I’m Muslim. Do you even know how much I missed bacon 🥓 during my 13 years of veganism). Anyhow, I’m too cool to hold this unconscious bias against this lady who is trying to feed me, help me, heal me. I just replied with, I eat ham too but chicken is good. 👍 I’ll stick to this. 

It was quite a yummy sandwich 🥪 in all honesty. Shame about the ingredients. I’ll post this here but I would love to talk more on that also. 

The drip was taking ages, so eventually, she adjusted the stream, and before you know it, I was done. After that, I attempted to produce a sample but it wasn’t to be. Plan B was to bring it to my local GP once I had the goods. 

My doctor liked me. I know, I can tell, and this does happen to me a lot. The key folks is to be respectful and carry yourself with gratitude and compassion. 

A few hours earlier, I had asked her for a printout of my blood test results. She explained that they weren’t allowed to, but she would. Once more, she said they shouldn’t. Other than saying thank you, I totally left that there. While I had my drip in, she hand-delivered it to me. 

Upon discharge, a nurse or even a healthcare assistant would have removed my IV cannula, but not for me. She came back and removed it herself in the room that I was in. As she was showing me out, we passed the nursing desk, and another nurse asked her if she could remove my cannula. Love how they are checking for the well-being of the patient. Teamwork makes the dream work. 

As I’m typing 💬 these words, I’m thinking 🤔…: man I should be writing to PALS. In my 6000 roles and careers, I actually worked for this NHS trust in the PALS team. PALS stands for patient advice and liaison service. Really, it’s the department that gets the letters of things that have gone very, very wrong. Lawsuits and the rest. 

How freaking nice would it be for the team to get a thumbs 👍 up message? My letter would cover the 6 people I interacted with.

Tuesday update: I'm feeling better