My parallel universe

Firstly I made it! Out of hospital Juaneda. It was a warm Monday evening. 8 days after my accident. The bleeding in the stomach had stopped. I had received my “fit to fly” certificate and as my family had already left for our holidays in Italy, I was ready to follow suit and go as quickly, but steady, all special assistance-ced from beginning of airport in Palma to be delivered to a driver in Milan. No bag should be lifted by me. Nothing more than 3kg

It all started off quite well. Our amazing house dog and cat sitter’s drove me to the airport, they even fetched me a wheelchair that the members of the check in desk thought was my own and tried to give me a special tag for it. I declined even though it was a quite racy model. (I wonder if he by chance had managed to swipe someone else’s racing wheel chair?)

After hours queueing and slowly being dragged through security I was put in a much lesser chair and again to wait. It’s funny, I have never else been used as a thing for people that I don’t know to “lean on”, “balance from” and almost hanging their bags on! I mean how rude! As I was traveling alone I couldn’t have the people behind me huffing and puffing and pretending to be a part of my crew. My solo crew.

After asking them please to release me as they were traveling back to their other island, that’s no longer part of the EU, I spoke only Spanish to everyone else so they clearly understood I had nothing to do with the “Huffers”. They only queued up to Special Assistance to take kids and grandkids with them. It wasn’t pretty, but I think it did work.

At very last minute a very lean young Spanish boy (kart racer) turned up in his electric (racer kart). Me and another wheelchair lady returning to her home in Münster, Germany. As her flight was boarding 5 minutes before mine, the racer decided to take us to her gate first. As far away in terminal C that you could ever go to. Amazingly racer boy actually got me to my gate exactly on the spot second of my gate opening for minus-valid people like me! Even more amazingly he didn’t kill a single person on his way there! Amen

On to the plane. The very nice people at the gate had managed to change my seat so I got a whole row to sit in. As I had only been waiting and queueing at airport except for the formula electric race (they are so quiet! No wonder we nearly killed so many!) I haven’t had time to buy anything eatable. On top of that, due to some allergic reactions I had got from the contrast dye of the CAT scans, I have been put on the harshest of diets ever known to mankind…

I cannot have






Things from cans



Citrus fruits


And I am starting my holiday to Italy, land famous for wine, pizza and pasta…. Well thankfully on the airplane they had olives. So a bag of olives, a black coffee and a sparkling water and I was good to fly!

As the plane was traveling to Italy most stuff said by the crew was in Italian, or Spanish, sometimes English. But as I was watching a movie I didn’t react at all for the feisty weather around us. As the plane dived and I got the biggest tickle in my stomach and I had to really stop myself laughing, as I started seeing the anxious people around me. I controlled one of my favorite pastimes of roller coaster flying! Oh come on! You might think you are going to die, but more probably not, and then it’s like a free roller coaster!

Anyway due to the disastrous weather the plane was circulating Milan for 30 minutes but they had to refuel so they decided to redirect plane to Verona. I had looked at flying to Verona first as it was closer to our hotel but the flight from Mallorca was full that day. My biggest worry was that there would be a 2 hours bus journey back to Milan where I had a further 2 hours back with my driver from the hotel. Man of my dreams and hero of the day was once again Dan! Managing to call from a freezing waterfall to redirect my driver from Milan to Verona!

I was brought off the plane last of all. They had to use the escalator bus to take me to the terminal. As I was sat on front seat, loads of passengers passed me with their full bags of puke to deposit of. That’s what one gets when one does not get sick on planes… one gets to enjoy other people suffer…. And then it was time for me to try out the Verona airport “special assistance”.

Well Special Assistance is one word for it…. The guys that picked me up from the plane in their elevator bus were awesome! One of them from Venezuela so spoke perfect Spanish! They only took me to the terminal and that’s when it started to get “super special” I was the only one in a wheelchair in the medium crowded terminal where the bags come in on the bands. I was told to stay in my chair and await my “roller”… after about 7-10 minutes my Neón orange clad dude came to roll me. Hopefully to where my bag was coming in from… he didn’t do that, he passed 2 bands with rolling bags on… not reading said signs over on televisions advertising where bags came from. Then he parked me. About 15 meters from a standing still band. And there he left me. This time for a full 15 minutes.

The empty band where I was parked had no luggage on it. It was strangely enough the only band in the whole hall that was at a stand still. Roller dude was a goner, probably smoking something to make his life more “special”. My mobile did not seem to like Italian mobile network and there was no WiFi. I managed to get a few messages away to Dan to inform him about my lack of luggage and possibility of lack of driver, as he couldn’t contact me with a phone call. Then I started filming my predicament, a video I was going to send to my mum. From my back side roller guy came flying almost crashing me into the “help desk” then roughly pushing me to another band that was also running with bags on it… a flight from Palma, but with another airline… I tried to tell him to go back to the help desk that we had almost crashed into before, to see if my bag had gone with the bus of people traveling back to Milan.

The help desk was a window that you couldn’t really make yourself seen from whilst sitting. Roller guy wasn’t in a very helpful mode. I eventually got eye contact with a lady behind the glass and she immediately came out. I told her I was missing a bag from my flight. She took me up to the first band that roller guy had ignored and there upside down on the floor was my bag! Yay! I was so happy! This was going to turn out ok! At the same time my driver managed to get a phone call through saying he was outside waiting for me! Roller guy had not done his part yet!

The lady from the help desk double checked my boarding card and the number and name on the bag tag! But Roller guy didn’t want to take that bag. The kind lady picked it up from the floor and as it is a big soft bag with only 2 wheels that you have to drag after unless you decide to carry it. The kind helper lady even extended the arm that makes said bag, easy to roll. Roller guy had had enough. He half tried to roll it for a short distance but as he didn’t roll it with its wheels down he was instead dragging the bag (weighing 22.1kg!) whist pushing me sideways forwards. After another 30 meters he gave up and started carrying the bag instead. Through the nothing to declare and by now rushing through the outside full of people that were carrying signs. At such pace there was no possibility to read anything. I thought I saw my name at a sign and was pointing like a wild woman. Roller guy threw me to the right and as he was now carrying my heavy bag he managed to trip someone over. Luckily it was my name on the board. Saved by the driver! He very kindly took over the mangled bag and showed with his hand to roller boy that the car was parked outside hence I should also be wheeled outside to get to said car.

Roller boy now knew exactly what to do. He rushed me outside on to the pavement, pushing the wheelchair so hard in front of him and also in front of the nice driver, the nice driver that also knew where the car was… I was being pushed over a Tokyo sized zebra crossing away from the terminal, away from the driver…. Towards????

Then I heard a loud voice behind us, shouting something to Roller boy. It was the nice driver that had parked his car just outside the exit of the terminal and roller boy had to swallow hard and in front of all the people turn the pink haired lady in a wheelchair around and go back past some sniggering people. Eventually I was in the back seat of my own nice driver car. There was a small tetra pack of water, easy listening music and the trip was only going to be a little over 1 hour, turns out you can drive pretty fast in Italy. We made it to the hotel in 49 minutes straight. Luckily I’m not that faced by speed, or close meetings with death.

As I arrived “early” I had to wait a few minutes until my whole family arrived! But there they were and also half the management of the hotel! They all knew of my horrible landing in Verona, they all knew I couldn’t walk far, so they got me a wheelchair of my own. That I could use for the duration of my stay!

Being wheeled around can be quite fun, especially when your 3 children are arguing over who should push you! We were staying in an awesome little bungalow. 2 bedrooms and a sofa bed in the living room. As I had only had a bag of olives I staid inside resting for a few hours when the rest of the family went out cycling. In the early evening we had booked a table at a fabulous restaurant less than 100 meters rolling from the bungalow! I decided it was all worth it, even though life sometimes throws you lemons, just make lemonade. We finished dinner and the girls wheeled me down to the waterfront. So beautiful there at the top of Lake Garda. It started to rain again and I was wheeled home by Millie.

3 o’clock in the morning I woke up. The pain was taking over. I didn’t have enough pillows to half sit when I was sleeping. I managed to go to the bathroom and there in the mirror I managed to see my squashed stomach. It was very red. And the third breast had grown back. I got some folded robes and another blanket from Dan that also helped me getting some ice from the reception. I took another painkiller and managed to get another hour of sleep.

When we wheeled up to breakfast both me and Dan had come to the conclusion that I had to see a doctor and possibly a hospital as soon as possible. We were recommended the local hospital only 11 minutes away.

That’s if you find it straight away. It can also take a little longer trying out scenic routes. We had managed to take the hotel wheelchair with us, no one could stop us! Well except possibly the Italian language… how can it be so hard? And how come it is so far away from Spanish? They were doing some summer revamping of the hospital. There really was only one entrance you could use to go inside, but it was called first aid and not accidents and emergency. Trying to talk to the lady in reception only got us knowing she spoke no English, but along some verbal guttural noises we headed up to a different door and pushed a button. No answer from the door we were waiting by… after a few minutes another door opened and we were wheeled in to state my problem.

I lost track of time, we got in there around 11, I didn’t see a doctor until 16:00, I sent Dan home to eat and look after the girls. They booked me in for X-ray and another scan. I told them that I got an allergic reaction from the contrast dye in the CAT scan. We had all sorts of hero’s helping us getting my European health card updated as it had stopped working in February this year… All the small things in life…

At 18:00 ish I got to see the main surgeon of the Arco hospital. He wasn’t happy with the eco results so he himself did another more complete ecógrafo scan. He said the whole muscle wall was broken and there looked to be leaking blood inside the hematoma. They were discussing in hard Italian the pros and cons of another CAT scan. The pros are you will be able to see exactly where and if there is a bleed. The cons are my newfound allergy to the contrast dye they inject you with to see all things 3D.

They decided to go for a special CAT scan but at another bigger hospital where surgeons were on call 24 hours if they needed to do an emergency incision. I got transported up with my very own ambulance. Giuseppe the ultra fast driver and Lisa his side kick as well as my own nurse Julia that stayed with me all the time! The other hospital that was supposed to be 33 minutes away only turned out to be 25! I love how they drive here! Probably good that I’m banned from driving until I can lift things again…

The CAT scan didn’t show us anything new. The hematoma was where it used to be and they didn’t see a broken blood vessel to explain the swelling or the pain. Back to the hospital in Arco in my own private ambulance. My bloods were getting worse, they took a third blood test and they concluded the red blood cells count was getting on the low side. They suggested I’d stay the night. Dan came back bearing food. A delicious poke bowl, that I was asked not to eat… I was put in a massive ward with an array of ill people around me.

Waking up in the morning, better sleep, still very swollen still lots of pain. More blood tests, hemoglobin low, we discuss. They think I have a leak of blood somewhere but they cannot seem to find it. They want to keep me in but in a special surgical ward. We have to sign papers that give our consent to blood transfusion. They don’t want to worry us. After all papers are signed we realize the ward I will be in is not one we’re guests (Dan and the girls) were allowed in. They can visit 1 hour at 19:00 Monday to Friday and 2 hours during weekends. It’s all still to do with covid.

I got to my room and I’m sharing with a seriously small Italian woman. I would put her as late 80’s maybe 90’s. She speaks nothing apart from Italian. She is normally so quiet I often think she has passed on. But now it turns out she is a little snorer! One of those blowy snorers… I might go up and do the deed myself if she doesn’t stop soon!

Keep smiling 🙂 the lessons one learns from going the crooked way! And I win! My mum told me! Nobody has as many diverse accidents as I do! Winner winner chicken dinner… as long as it’s gluten free

No Muse no way

So it’s written in the stars… Emelie Marsh SHALL NEVER see Muse LIVE! EVER!!! I know it was maybe a little ambitious thinking I would make it to Mallorca Live festival after a week of hospitals etc.. well I am ever the optimist, so just knowing that the concert is definitely happening less than 20 minutes from where I am staying (ok the hospital where I am staying) there was always the little yes guy inside of my crumpled slightly damaged brain that was keeping the spirits high for me…. Not any more.

The doctors come and see patients here once a day. Tests get carried out first thing so results will be there to be shared. We thought we had given me and said doctors plenty of time, getting here Wednesday morning, but we had not calculated with holy ceremony of San Juan (midsummer) as a totally red day where nothing works in the hospital… AS WELL AS… today! A small insignificant Sunday. Who would have known? No test results gets given on a Sunday… which means…. I cannot go home.

Will miss the concert of the year, will miss the start of the holidays with my kids… and I am not sure when I will be let out of here… time will tell. I’m in a terrible tricky mood. As well as I’m happy that the girls can go on holiday without me, I just feel like the leftover loser. I also feel it could be good to stay creative but either I get tired or batteries on said phone or pad dies… and for some reason the chargers only work here sometimes, and from different plugs… I hence have to chase the functioning plug…sometimes its in the loo, sometimes high above my bed, other times low below the other bed and once in a blue moon it’s works just between the beds on the furniture that was kind of made to keep charging stuff on it… it’s a fun game… not!

There I was quietly tapping away on this blog, and all of a sudden I was captured, put in a fluffy wheelchair and taken down for some 6pm X-rays of my chest! Why on earth? No one could tell me why or who had ordered said X-rays of chest… well that might be the mark I leave behind. A whole lot of X-rays, CAT scans and a whole ray of different photographs and moldings of my teeth… that, and I will be THE FOREVER MISSER OF MUSE!

My life
You electrify my life
Let’s conspire to ignite
All the souls that would die just to feel alive

I’ll never let you go
If you promise not to fade away
Never fade away

Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations
Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations

Hold you in my arms
I just wanted to hold
You in my arms

Far away
This ship is taking me far away
Far away from the memories
Of the people who care if I live or die

I’ll never let you go
If you promise not to fade away
Never fade away

Muse : Starlight

Keep smiling 🙂 black holes and revelations

Midsummers night

Here it is, once again! The celebration of the year if you talk to any Swedes! It could possibly be one of only 2 days of the year where I feel the most Swedish. One being Christmas Eve as that’s the birthday of baby Jesus, and Midsummer eve, the longest day of the year, combined with the shortest night! What could be more lovable?

As by slight tradition, rather than spending the day dressing the midsummer maypole with flowers and leaves, setting up a long table, cooking good traditional food that will last a week or 2 (in Mallorcan weather probably not so long), then singing the whole array of snaps-songs, bound in my mothers own creative style snaps books, I am instead back in hospital. Gut has internal bleeding. Not from any organ they say, but it’s still bleeding, trickling away slowly, filling up my right hand side just recently christened third breast. Trying to keep the spirits up, the doctors here only got confused when they started draining the blood out of said third boob. I had to de-christen it as doctors hoped it would drain faster if not referred of with a first, middle and second name.

Hey ho, here we go, 11 hours draining and 150ml has been emptied. The swelling is to me just as big, but I guess if it’s still bleeding that won’t help?

I’ve been told tomorrow is the day of reckoning! Even though no maypole will be clad, no food specially cooked, no songs sung in spirit with spirits, I will jump! Not with a horse, but to a tune! I will jump “små grodorna” as they according to the song are fun to see, have small ears and no tails. For one day a year I will be Swedish and if that’s hooked up to drips and drainage still in the hospital so be it!

Keep smiling 🙂 happy midsummer 

Champion then doormat

Hello dear friends, as I write so irregularly you might understand that something awful has happened, since that’s when I have time to write. Lying in my recovery bed/hospital bed or hooked up to certain stuff that eventually will make one better. I will tell you this story, a story of hope and glory, followed by an act of thoughtfulness that turned out to be the most reckless act of my life. And as things have it I’m still alive to tell the tale, guardian angels so totally on my side, once again…

It was a weekend in June. The Mallorcan championships were going on in Calvia at the Es Pas club Hipica. Me and my wonder horse Unreal perfected our 3 faultless fast rounds and were crowned champions this year again! It was a seriously hot day even for Mallorca so when we returned home with the 3 horses from the show we decided to let them rest indoors for a couple of hours before I was to let them out a bit later as they all sleep outdoors during the summer months.

We went back to the magnificent price giving ceremony, which here in Mallorca is almost as important as the actual show. It was the first time that I made it back to the ceremony as normally with 3 young children and a full yard of horses it takes a bit of planning. To celebrate the victory we then decided to go out for a delicious meal at a local favorite and when we got back, me and Millie went to take the horses out to their paddocks.

I think with hindsight here is where I should have stopped myself. Hindsight is such a clever never ending way of making oneself an even bigger idiot in one’s own eyes. It was dark. The lights were already off. The horses got a bit surprised that they were going out but as they are normally fine to lead I decided to take 2 and Millie, my 10 year old daughter took our kindest saintliness mare Ellie.

Even as we started walking out of the stable, the young mare I was leading was pulling wanting to go but at the same time looking nervously around at everything. My other horse, the newly crowned King of Mallorca for the 3d time running was a bit slower and got pushed to the side by the now tank like youngster that was pulling and jumping straight up in the air for the smallest sound.

I should have aborted mission “letting horses out” as it was so dark. I should have left them inside. I should have never let my 10 year old lead a full size horse, no matter how saintly…. Well I had ignored all that and what followed was a terror greater than any I have ever known. And for those of you who know me, that’s quite a long list to top…

As the young mare pulled and pushed my horse on my left as well as dragging me as a plaything all of a sudden a sound to the right of her made her jump upwards as well as to her left, where my 70 kg did nothing to stop her force of nature 600kg flying acrobatic style. I was pulled off my feet up in the air but simultaneously dragged backwards down as my champion horse wanted nothing to do with the crazy acrobatic suicidal monster on our right. I was pulled and spun backwards down and as my head crashed against the floor all I could see were 8 long horse legs moving in different directions. I had managed to let go of the one lead rope but I think I was trying to free my other hand as I saw a massive hoof moving towards me.

His hoof landed straight over my right hand side belly. Straight over my liver. As I felt my entire right hand side being compressed down into the stones below me I could simultaneously feel the hesitation from his foot. I knew then that he didn’t want me caught under him but it was too late. I had managed to let go of my 2 horses but Millie was still holding on to hers. I could see the shock in her face as I heard myself shouting at her to let go of the lead rope. She did as she was told and Ellie managed to get away without stepping or kicking anyone.

There was a second I was convinced that that was it. But for the life of me I have never wanted to be slaughtered right in front of my daughters innocent eyes. There are a few things with one’s death that is on a superior un-cool level. For me being trampled to death in front of one’s tiny child is one of those seriously un-cool ways… But then I heard myself scream.

There are 2 things you should know and appreciate about screaming. 1, you are somehow conscious enough to let out a sound. 2, your lunges are not too damaged. These 2 things comforted me whilst I heard myself shouting and crying at the same time. I got Millie to run for help and as I was half lying squashed to the ground, half sitting up, I noticed the sprinkler system starting. A fine shower that kept coming and going, circling over my broken body. As luck would have it Dan was at home and my other 2 daughters also came out in the by now pitch black night, with the sprinklers full on doing their job, wetting all of us. As I was convinced no bones were broken I got into Dans car. The only problem was then I was convinced something was leaking inside me.

We got to Son Espases hospital, as I was convinced it would be an easy in and out job. Little had I thought of Mallorca as the metropolitan of weekend drinking and partying. At first there was a few locals with heart and lunge problems and me half sitting in an orange really strange wheelchair. Then they started coming in, I’m droves… the girls heavily made up with sparkly cheeks, one high heel the other missing and part of foot missing… the vomiting German who by the translator had taken something…. Probably not legal drugs of some kind to make the party more party like, the whole drove of Dutch people that all had been in a car incident. Me with my “horse accident” was put further and further down any line of treatment. The slow trickle inside of me kept making itself noticed. When finally I got to see a doctor she immediately changed the ultrasound to a full on TAC scan.

Time was ticking along as slow as time often does in these kind of situations. I was put on a ward where 25 other people were being assessed and treated. A kind of midway room, where time stood still for someone like me, my screaming had stopped by now and as all clothes had been removed and changed into the classic hospital PJ, I was easily confused for any other patient. In this room no family members were allowed in so I kept falling in and out of sleep depending on my neighbours screaming or snoring.

Finally a doctor came and told me all my inner organs were fine! The damage was in the muscles and the bleeding also from there. By now my right hand side was so swollen it reminded me of a third boob. They were thinking I would stay the night with them but I had other plans! I wanted to go home as soon as possible. It wasn’t to prove anything to anyone other than that I thought I would be a lot less problems here. Rightly or wrongly I was given my bag of clothes and pointed in the direction of the loo where I could get dressed. I had no shoes as Dan already had removed them. I was dressed in my full on showjumping outfit when I was trampled down, hence tight white (or shall we say previously white) breeches and a tight white (also previously white with hoof print and blood all over it) was the clothes they expected me to A. Get on and B. Get on inside the loo… that toilet was the dirtiest toilet I have ever seen. I was barefoot… Dan had my shoes so I was given blue plastic bags to put on feet… one more look at the loo with urine all over the floor, bits of vomit hanging around the edges of the toilet and a grimness and stinking smell that one won’t forget for a long time… my whole insides said NO and even though it was 3am and I was in pain all over I decided the only way for me was to go home and be with my family.

Monday morning I start wondering if it was the best plan to just up and leave the hospital. I was still dressed in the hospital PJ as both refusal to enter toilet as well as knowledge that worn clothes wouldn’t fit any longer, I was also still wearing the complimentary wristlet band with my full name and numbers on… this made my youngest definitely sure I had escaped hospital… but after both 1 successful trip to the loo as well as an ok maneuvering back in to bed I was right to leave the hospital! The swelling keeps getting bigger… but with the painkillers they have given me I am alright to sleep and relax in bed.

The really sad thing is that I miss my own pony summer camp! It was planned for this week since forever and I can’t even be outside to watch it, but luckily enough I have the best staff and helpers for the camp to make it extra special for everyone!

Keep smiling 🙂 know that no matter how hard you get used as a doormat take it slow but you will get up again! Don’t ever let anything hold you down!

Bronze prince and Gold King