Broken

A new year begins. All lovely resolutions, plans for the future, clearing ones head, clearing ones life.

New structure, diet, exercise regime, cleaner house, tidier wardrobes.

Year on year, there is the immense possibility of failure. This year I managed to break 3 days before the new year begun, although it wasn’t confirmed until yesterday.

I knew there was something wrong, with the amount of pain that I had. Of course I was hoping that it was more chance of muscular and nerves damage, but with yesterday’s consultation with a doctor that cared she found it. The upper crack leading through the sternum about 2 cm from the top, the second one further down to the right. The doctor insisted that an MRI should still be done to find out the severity of the muscular break around Bella. Never in my wildest dreams could I have come up with this terrible conclusion.

I was once again invited to the “Idrottsgala” which is the sports personality of the year in Sweden. It was held in the Globe in Stockholm on Monday the 15th of January. At the time I had gotten better pain relief and I didn’t have a confirmed broken breastbone, so I thought a quick trip to Stockholm would be no problem, little did I know…

Arriving at Arlanda airport on the Sunday night. The air was “fresh” and “clear” for you Swedes out there, it was frippin’ freezing! But there was no snow! I realize living in mallorca for almost 8 years have made me a bit more soft and sensitive to cold things, but even the proper Swedes that picked me up were complaining about the cold!

The gala came and went. Peder Fredricson won the Jerringprize for a second year running. That’s the only prize where the Swedish public decides their yearly hero. Riding, even though it’s the second largest sport in Sweden, have very little paper space and TV time, hence the Swedish public, that are not involved in horse sport, cannot believe a European champion can beat a 7 world champion and several world records swimmer.

It’s quite tiresome to educate said ignorant Swedes that horse sport has only 1 world championship every 4 years, and for them to understand how great an achievement winning a European gold on home ground is, any way said Swede Peder proved for the second time that horse sport has a lot of horse power!

Come Tuesday I managed to celebrate 2 cousins who’s birthdays it was. First with a breakfast at stockholm central train station and secondly lunch at Edsbacka bistro in Sollentuna. I then had my taxi booked to Arlanda airport where a quick transfer flight should have taken me via Oslo to Palma. Then it started to snow.

It’s sometimes strange how within a 20 minutes time frame one can go from a little bit windy to outrageous stormy weather, then add the snow and you couldn’t see more than 10 meters in front of you. My taxi driver was driving super slow but we managed to get to the airport in time… the airplane had other plans for me.

After change of gate 3 times, a delay due to the weather and a new crew coming to fly us, I realized it would be tight to manage flying out of Oslo. I checked the flights out of Oslo and most of them were delayed by a couple of hours or cancelled. By this time I had already waited for so long for the flight that I wondered if I should get on the flight… as there were no direct flights to palma the following day.

The air hostess on the Norwegian flight said we would probably get there in time for the Palma flight as all flight out of Oslo were delayed, I decided to get on the flight and we taxied our on the runway. There we stopped. We were told we had missed our time slot. We would be sat on the runway for another 1 1/2 hour. As we landed in Oslo, I picked up my things and went careering through the terminals of Oslo airport, as it didn’t say if my flight had left yet and there was nobody to ask. I ended up close to having a heart attack but finally realized my plane had left without me… I was stuck in Oslo.

Due to how I had booked my ticket, the airline cut me off, they didn’t see themselves as responsible for this snowy palaver. Thanks to my husband I managed to get a hotel room a “roughly 10 minutes away” from the airport. Turned out to be a 40 minutes over 1000 Norwegian crowns taxi journey there but at least I had a bed.

Also thanks to my husband I managed to get re-routed with Ryan air for the following day. A morning flight to London Stanstead and an afternoon flight to Palma. Never in my wildest nightmares was I prepared for what was about to happen.

I was up early and this time walked from the hotel (that I would never have found on my own) through a very snowy place called Lilleström. After a couple of semi right snowy turns and ice skating across some trafficked roads I ended up at the train station. From there the train was almost pleasant compared to the slippery roads. I was already checked in to both new flights and I was ready for another day in transit. Or so I thought… after a few hours waiting to board the flight to London I find out on my flight stats app that it’s been cancelled. I ask the people at he gate but they deny any knowledge of this “cancellation”. I will not bore you with the hours of frustrating wait not the bus transfer we finally found ourselves on to take us to another airport in Norway. It was called Torp. Google it. After being there, there is a new meaning to “the end of the world as we know it”. 2 hours of bus transfer through a snowy winter landscape. Followed by an extra 3 hours wait in a terminal without a cafeteria.

8 hours delayed we finally landed in Stanstead. Me and everybody else that were transferring to other flights had missed our connecting flights. Stanstead was going to become my second night stopover.

Come Thursday afternoon. I had been given a boarding card for the slightly over full flight of FR1913. On my boarding card, Ryan air went all vintage on me, no seat number! So I was queueing up, in the no priority queue, with only a 0 next to where my seat number was supposed to be. When I realized I was already too tired from all the traveling, hotels and lack of food during this hell week, and all of it on top of my already super seriously painful chest, I was on my very last straw.

I was thinking about the humor in the story of me. The unbeatable amount of bad luck, clumsiness and every time I try to plan or arrange anything for my future, it just quickly and sharply goes to pots. I live in fear of ever putting anything in writing, any wishful or slightly planning thinking that like the worst of any black comedy seams to turn on me.

I will get the full report next Friday. Then I will have the results of the MRI and by then I will know more about how little I’m allowed to do. I have tried to research online what exercise one can do with a broken sternum. Turns out, no much, or to make it easier for me to understand, nothing! I’m not allowed to lift, turn, swim, lie on my front or side, run or ride. How I will stay human? Well possibly I never was, one can only hope!

Keep smiling 🙂 even though it hurts, it’s never as painful as taking yourself too seriously!

3 thoughts on “Broken

  1. A fully fledged author is born through misery and tough living and still seeing the humour in it all.Mama gives you A!

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