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14th September 2013
Memories - good ones and very, very bad ones.
I brought lots and lots of boxes of 'stuff' home to my house to search through. Even though Imelda will not let me throw anything out when he is there, I still am able to nip round while he is in Church, grab a few boxes of stuff and return home with them to sort at my leisure.
A picture of my 'office' outside where the wind can blow away the dust
and, strangely where the sun always shines.
Imelda was in church this morning so I grabbed four boxes. In box one I found several letters. Many of these were from 1987 until 1992 when I was travelling around the French Alps and North America. These letters serve as an insight to my thoughts at the time and bring back some wonderful memories of my travels back then.
I spent five years working in ski resorts Les Carroz, Les Orres, Valloire, Crest Voland and Flaine for a company called 'School Plan' and later 'Quest'. I got to ski for five hours a day every day for four months each year. This is my idea of pure Heaven. I followed with a season in a family run ski resort called Eaton Mountain near Skowhegan in Maine USA. I also spent a few summers working with PGL holidays in Brecon in Wales as a kids rep and one for Bunacamp in Kennebec camps in Maine as an office assistant. I met some lovely people while I was there including (the) Mr Michael Douglas who I spoke to on the phone a few times as his son Cameron was at the camp.
I love Maine, it is a really beautiful place with real wildlife such as moose and skunks and porcupines. In summer it is hot and you can safely swim outside in the lakes. In the evenings we used to lie on the jetty by the shore of a huge lake (salmon lake) and watch fireflies playing above us in the moonlight. In winter it snows in Maine and there are many ski resorts there. When it snows people strap snow ploughs to the front of their pick up trucks and life carries on as normal. There is no grinding to a halt of the whole town because someone somewhere heard there was a snowflake in the area. It is gorgeous and I totally loved it there. I am still in touch with a friend I made there called Kathy, she is a native American and I love her to bits. I even went to her wedding in Florida a few years later. We lost touch for a while after that but then she found me again on Facebook and we are staying in touch. :)
Anyway, in one box there were letters I wrote while I was travelling and they brought back memories. I guess I have Imelda to thank for these as I would no doubt have thrown them out years ago. All my postcards from my trip round America in 1990 have been kept. I sent one home every day so they would serve as a diary of my route and as a record of where I was last seen should I go missing.
None of my friends wanted to go so I decided I would go by myself. I spent one week on Greyhound buses travelling from Maine down to California. I stopped off in Dallas where I visited Southfork ranch and Memphis where I went to visit Gracelands. I spent two nights in Los Angeles with a relative and then took a 'Trek America' mini bus with nine other like minded people back to New York. We spent over three weeks visiting places such as Las Vegas (where we hired a stretch limo which was posh back then). We camped at the Grand Canyon so we could catch the sunset and sunrise which was truly mind blowing. The rest of the group decided to spend the whole day half killing themselves by hiking right down the canyon and back up. 'You will only ever get the opportunity to do this once' they said. Never a truer word spoken as I didn't fancy my chances of making it down let alone back up again. I therefore spent the day shopping and bought the T-shirt instead. We saw Carlsbad Caverns at dusk and saw thousands of bats fly out of the caves.
On to New Orleans where we were able to sample alligator meat, yes it tastes like chicken! We camped overnight by The Mittens in Monument Valley. This is the place where they filmed the Marlborough adverts, basically a vast desert with two rocks which look like mittens. Finally on past the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia and up to Boston past the 'Cheers' cafe location then on to New York where I caught the flight back home. There were so many other places I will remember once I read all the diaries. Please don't quote me on the order of the above I will amend this when I get to the diary entries. We went from California along the South coast, up past Florida and on to New York.
Itinerary: Disneyland California (I met Tigger. there were no other animals about as they were 'all in a meeting'). Las Vegas - We stayed in the Super 8 hotel and visited all the Casinos by stretch limo. We did the Wet 'n' Wild water park in the day. Zion Canyon National Park, Utah. Lake Powell in Arizona for a spot of water skiing on the lake. The Grand Canyon where we took a helicopter ride over the canyon. Monument Valley Utah we camped by 'The Mittens'. Santa Fe, New Mexico for a spot of shopping. Carlsbad Caverns where we saw the bats at dusk. Del Rio in Texas - we nipped over to Mexico to have dinner. San Antonio where we saw the Alamo and walked along the river at dusk. On to New Orleans - Jazz and parties and nobody gets out of bed until about ten as they are all up late. Went to Bourbon Street, had a swamp tour and ate alligator in a famous restaurant. Next to Ocoee in Tennessee and finally up to Washington DC where we saw the aircraft museum and went up the Washington Needle. We finished in the Carlton hotel in New York.
From my ski resort days there was one diary entry which filled me with memories I would prefer to forget. In 1987 I spent a wonderful whole winter in Les Carroz, a ski resort up high in the French Alps. I am passionate about skiing and to be able to ski every day for hours is my idea of what life is all about. Although I have had asthma since age two it seems to leave me alone in the mountains. I got a total break from the asthma for four months a year. I love being in the mountains. I had been able to ski every day for four months for four hours a day. The ski season generally starts mid December and ends mid April and I spent all winter for five years working in hotels which were rented and run by the British for the British. Mostly the company catered for school groups from the UK. The hotels were a bit basic although they were warm and clean.
This particular diary entry was actually written on the bus on the way home. It specifies it was 3.07am French time and it was April 16th 1987. The ski resort had closed for the summer and we had cleaned and packed up the hotels. The staff coach had come to pick us all up and was now full and had just started the long journey home.
All the other ski staff on the coach were sleeping as it made its way down the twisty, winding, long mountain road. I was seated at the front and I noticed a particularly sharp bend over a cliff which appeared to me to be somewhat hairy with a giant drop over the edge. I glanced at the driver to see his expression. It never ceases to amaze me how these locals take roads like that for granted as to me they are terrifying. Although that was nothing compared to what I saw next. The driver was falling asleep at the wheel! I tried frantically to poke my mate to wake her up but everyone but me was is a deep sleep. I realised it was up to me to make sure they didn't stay asleep for ever. I tried chatting to the driver to keep him awake. The driver did not speak English and my French leaves a lot to be desired. I carried on and on trying to keep him awake. He kept drifting off. It was like some horror film. If I left to wake the others for help then we would be off a cliff before I had managed it. I just had to keep talking. There were a fair few hairy moments and I was exhausted. I had logged this in my diary as I was telling myself the investigators would be interested in this diary should the unthinkable happen.
Finally daylight came and we stopped for a break at the bottom of the mountains. I was so relieved and told the others who no doubt just thought I had been imagining things. Oddly only this year a coach on the same road at the same time bringing staff home from a ski resort actually crashed. Fortunately, I understand most of them were unhurt.
****
At the bottom of the box was a letter which appeared to be in my own handwriting although it looked as if I had either attempted mirror writing or writing with a blindfold on. I read what I could, trying hard to remember what on earth it was. I then froze in horror memories dawned on me. In 1987 I had had an asthma attack so bad that it had led to a respiratory arrest. In short a resiratory arrest is when a pair of lungs decide 'enough is enough - stick this for a game of soldiers' and shut down. I was 22.
I had been in the hospital when I collapsed, having been rushed in an hour or so before in the middle of the night with an asthma attack. They immediately put me on a ventilator (more commonly known as a life support machine). They zonked me unconscious with drugs so I did not fight the machine, which then took over the task of breathing for me. I believe the machine kept me alive for about 3-4 days and apparently it was touch and go whether I would come back at all. During this time I remember having majorly weird dreams and even today I am certain it was my choice whether or not I wanted to come back from the twilight zone at all. At the time it was no big decision. It was almost as if God was saying 'hey mate - you want to die or you want to live - let me know when you're ready, oh and just tick the box whether you want ketchup with your fries OK, catch ya later :)' I decided I wanted to live, so I did.
Anyway those pieces of paper were my attempt at communicating with the world. I had a tube down my throat and another up my nose, my arm was strapped up to all sorts of machines and I had wires and tubes everywhere I had skin. I couldn't talk and I couldn't use my hand properly. I had attempted to communicate to people at the time by writing abstract words. I was still in intensive care at the time where I had been for about ten days and was still away with the fairies through the effect of the hospital drugs. It appears I had attempted to apologise to everyone for being grumpy. I was told by the nurses, a fact I still remember, that a church minister had come to visit me. This church minister had put his hand on my head to bless me (or give me the last rites - I can't remember). I had so many wires and stuff everywhere I did not want to be touched anymore by anybody so when his hand touched my head I threw a wobbly and told him to F*** Off. I am told I have been forgiven. I guess it was excusable with the amount of drugs they pumped into me.
On the bits of paper I found, I had asked for an Orange Aero - odd that was the first thing I wanted when I my appetite returned. I also asked how my boyfriend was as he had come to visit, seen me attached to the machine and had fainted square on the floor, the wimp! I was also trying to carry on a conversation on paper about being able to get out of hospital in time to go to the Michael Jackson concert in the stadium which I had tickets for a few days later. I was so looking forward to it as it was a huge event and my friends and I had tickets. I had dreamed very vividly while on the machine that I was on stage with him and told the nurses what he was wearing during which song. When I asked if I would be out in time, the replies from everyone were, I remember, extremely vague. Comments such as 'we'll see', and 'maybe' were flung about. The reason for this were that I had lost four days while I was on the machine. The concert had been and gone while I was slipping in and out of consciousness so I had already missed it. Nobody had the heart to tell me this after what I had been through. Strangely though the outfit I had described Michael Jackson as wearing during the 'Dirty Diana' song was actually accurate!
I will continue to read through the diaries and let you know if I come up with anything interesting. I must go now my own house has been sadly neglected since Imelda has been in hospital and so I have lots to do.
xx
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