Puking in Paradise

After unpacking our things, we couldn’t wait to explore the island.  We hadn’t eaten much on the plane, and I was feeling a little peckish.  We came across a relaxed looking Italian restaurant, where we were shown to a table-for-two, situated on a sweeping deck beside a lagoon.  To our left was a large open pizza oven, to our right, the irridescent Indian Ocean.

When Nathan suggested that we share a pizza, I realised immediately that something was up.  Since when had my husband been into sharing pizzas?  Admitedly, he had looked a bit off-colour since we’d got off the aeroplane, but in my mind, it was down to tiredness – after all we’d missed almost an entire night’s sleep.

“You ok babe?” I asked. “You don’t seem yourself.”

“I dunno.  I don’t feel great,” came the reply.

By now, Nathan was looking positively clammy and distinctly green around the gills.  Nevertheless, he managed to eat some pizza, and even down a beer or two, and we spent the rest of the afternoon investigating all the hotel’s ameneties, hoping that this sicky spell would soon pass.

But it wasn’t to be.

All through that night, Nathan was up and down like a yo-yo, tossing and turning, unable to sleep.  Then finally, the throwing-up commenced.

Now I must confess, I wasn’t much help.  Apart from a few words of comfort, I pretty much slept through his whole ordeal.  I was exhausted.

Suddenly, at around 6am, I sat bolt upright in bed, flung back the duvet, and with no prior warning, had to make a dash to the bathroom.  Now it was my turn.

We thought back to our daughter, Emily, being sick the night before we flew out.  There was no doubt about it – we had arrived with some kind of sickness bug.  It was our first full day in Paradise, and there was absolutely no way we could leave the room.

We both slept fitfully for a few hours, before deciding that our best option was to spend our ‘sick-day’ lolloping on the cushioned sun-loungers in the shade of the garden.  We spent the day chatting, reading books and trying to work out whether puking in paradise was a bum deal or a blessing!  Well, I suppose if you’re going to be sick, then you may as well do it in style.

Not a bad place to spend the day…?

Later that evening, when the sicky feeling at last subsided, Nathan gingerly trudged towards Reception to inform the hotel staff that we wouldn’t be eating dinner.  He returned laden with various forms of medication, bottles of water and fluid replacement sachets.  He also came back with the best surprise – A copy of Roman Holiday for us to watch on DVD!  There’s nothing like a bit of Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck whizzing around the streets of Rome on a Vespa to lift the spirits and restore a bit of romance to the occasion.  The hotel staff were incredible – later that evening, there was a knock at the door.  In came the hotel chef who insisted on preparing us a deliciously light, restorative broth – it was just what the doctor ordered.  Before too long, we began to feel like our normal selves again.

just what the doctor ordered
Just what the doctor ordered

With any luck, our holiday would start afresh in the morning.











Off to the Maldives

We were all packed and ready to go.

I’d finally got my head around leaving the children.  The four of them would be spending the week with various family members.  Everything was neatly arranged.  All that remained was to try and get a good night’s rest before a day of gruelling travel.

And that’s when the puking began.  It was about 3:30 am.  All of a sudden, our four-year-old, Emily, appeared at our bedside and announced that she was going to be sick.

She was absolutely right about that.  Poor little angel.

What on earth were we supposed to do now?  Perhaps this was a sign…that we shouldn’t be going?  I’d never felt so torn.  What if she had a bug?  How could I leave her with my parents like this?  “Hi mum and dad – Thank you so much for looking after our child – Here’s her suitcase….Oh and here’s a sick bucket…”

At about 7am, I nervously called my parents to explain the situation, half expecting that we would have to cancel the trip.

Of course, they insisted that we still go…Let it be said, right here, right now, my parents are absolute heroes.

And so, choking back the tears, we said our goodbyes.  My heart was in knots as I watched little Emily wave us off, tightly clutching hold of her beloved Winnie The Pooh Bear.  Saying goodbye, even if just for a week, is the hardest thing to do.  But nevertheless, we were off to the Maldives.