Accident waiting to happen

An Accident waiting to Happen and Adieu Bali

I fell into a pattern during the mornings of doing room calls to see if all was well with guests and to see if there was any assistance we could help with during the day such as organising transport to Kuta and Denpasar.

One morning on knocking up the Californians, I was asked into their villa, to see them having a snort of what I thought was cocaine and was asked if I wanted to indulge, though early I  said yes, when i bent down to partake I noticed that the line instead of being crystal white was a brown grey in colour, which i knew to be smack. I had not had smack before, but in that instance decided to try. Immediately on snorting I felt an overwhelming desire to be sick and rushed to the toilet and threw up my guts. After which I then felt a calm of total well being envelope my mind.

That day proved to be a turning point in my stay in Bali, as Terry Stanton and I were not getting along, he was drinking heavily and having difficulties with Anna Marie who was about to give birth any day. They were broke as church mouses, he was at me to give him money which I could not, as earlier it was explained he would get free accommodation and nothing more. He was not doing much, as there was little to do once we got the gardens and rooms fixed up.It was at the stage that i was thinking of moving on, as the resort needed a big injection of funds to make it  a hundred percent habitable and operationally effective for house keeping, food and beverage, marketing, transportation and engineering. 

Terry and I later in the day met at Poppies Restaurant in Kuta and over many drinks,Pernod I think was our poison because it was the cheapest, and sorted out our differences.Early evening we tossed a coin to see who would ride the bike and who would be pillion passenger.Neither wanted to drive the bike as we were both pissed, I lost and had to drive which nearly became tragic, as I lost the bike on a bend in the road and we both came off with Terry piggy backing me as we hit the bitumen, the gravel and then into a stream. All the time with Terry on top thus cushioning his landing off the bike, as I took the brunt of the impact and was knocked senseless to wake up in the water and seeing a warm light that lit up the surrounding bush. In the mid seventies the main Kuta Road had no electric lights along the road and I remember saying "where are we".It was the light of the bike, submerged under water, that lit up the surrounding bush.

Terry managed to pull the bike out of the creek and get  it started, I clung to him and he managed to nurse us and the bike back to the Kayu Aya, where I was taken to my room. I still had a half bottle of Pernod in my back pocket, this I used to dose all my wounds which stretched from my left shoulder, my left arm, leg and foot all were caked in dirt , gravel and blood, as I was only wearing shorts, singlet and thongs. I had some sleeping pills Anya had left with me which I swallowed and knocked myself out for the second time.

I was awoken the following morning by a team of friends to be taken by ambulance to Denpasar Hospital.Here I was laid out on a bed in the Emergency Department and a doctor proceeded to clean my wounds which was an agonising procedure that took an hour, for the doctor to clean all the dried blood, gravel and dirt that was now ingrained into the wounds so as to open them for  sterilisation.I was being held down by a team of friends who came to help and hold me still enabling the doctor to cleanse the wounds. Why he did not knock me out with an anaesthetic beggars belief,I remember Van Weirigen saying "you only have ten minutes to go"and thinking 'why do I do this to myself'.

I was transported back and lay on my bed under a fan, where I stayed for fifteen days. I was very aware how hard it was for Westerners to heal in the tropics, having seen surfers having to leave the Island because of coral wounds to their body from surfing accidents. i knew i was into a long haul programme to mend all the wounds I had inflicted and my salvation was I had a good supply of sleeping pills.  I dosed myself liberally with them to maintain little movement, so the fan could keep my body at a coolish temperature to enable the healing. I made up my mind that as soon as I could peel away the last scab, I was out of Bali.

Remorse, I had experienced in doses during the Grape Escape over drug and to much booze. I hate the feeling, it cuts right into my core and tells me how much I have fucked up and I have that emotion grinding away in my mind and soul relentlessly telling me ' when will you learn - drugs and booze are not for you'. I know myself, that I am at my best when i am living a totally clean exercised regimen and I do, a lot of the time. I get influenced and carried away with the occasion which perpetuates into a binge and bingo - Karma steps in to pull me up, sometimes I doubt my smarts and my rationality.

 I had fifteen days lying in bed under a fan, to feel sorry for myself and to contemplate my fuck ups. During this period, I realised that I could not continue to squander the opportunities that had fallen into my lape. To be thankful for the life I had been given and how fortunate I was to come out of this accident with the wounds that I had and be able to recover in one wholesome body.