Big dilemma - do I talk about these three "missing" days or not? Okay, just to prevent any thoughts of me not being able to count, I'll do so.
As you know, yesterday we had a great day in Macau. However, within a couple of hours of getting back to Hong Kong my stomach was protesting about something I'd eaten somewhere along the way. I couldn't begin to guess what I had eaten that had disagreed with me, or where it was I ate whatever had done the damage, all I know is that leaving the hotel room for dinner in the evening was out of the question. The morning of day 6 showed no improvement. Even breakfast was a no go, and I spent the doing not much more than just looking around the room.
Thank God for great books - it gave me the precious time needed to devote myself to Marcus Zusak's The Book Thief, surely one of the greatest books of all time.
By evening I was absolutely starving, and feeling that I would be okay to venture out and have some dinner, confident that I was now fine and could get back to enjoying myself. It seemed a good idea not to go too far from home, though, and so we walked down to the local shopping mall to find something yummy to eat.
Hung Hom really does have some wonderful shops, and so as we walked around the shopping mall with it's spotless marble floors and glittering lights my eyes were everywhere but looking at where I was going. Dangerous! Thus it was that I simply did not see the stairway leading down to the next level. Thus it was that I became airborne, crashing to earth on that hard, hard unforgiving marble at the foot of the stairs.
I honestly thought I was dead, so great was the shock to my body. I could feel hands reaching out to me and hear my husband saying, "Don't touch her. Don't touch her", probably worried in case of spinal injury. I realised then that I wasn't, in fact, dead but wasn't sure how injured I was. Very gingerly I moved my arms and legs, and they all seemed to work, albeit painfully. With my man's help I got to my feet. A shop attendant who had rushed to the scene was on his mobile, planning to call for an ambulance to take me to hospital. I assured him it was unnecessary. Silly me.
I insisted on going to an eatery anyway, but sobbed my way through the meal. A sweet little waitress brought me herbal tea, assuring me that it would help, and being as solicitous as any friend or family member could be. After eating, I was so determined that I would be okay that I even refused to get a taxi back to the hotel, saying I could walk. Again, silly me.
My left ankle was huge, my right ankle was positively gargantuan, there was a lump below my left knee about the size of a mango, and my left elbow felt it would never bend again. Mind you, I had cause to be thankful for that injury to the elbow, because as I had fallen I had somehow automatically brought my arm up to protect my face. So, had it not been for that injured elbow, the face may have been smashed onto the marble instead.
|Ooh, better this than the face.|
So, Did I then call for a doctor? No, I did not. Even sillier me.
Bottom line? I spent days 7 and 8 in the hotel room, munching pain killers like lollies, and with icy towels wrapped around my various sore bits. For two days this was my view of Hong Kong.