When the wheels fell off

We've had quite the adventure in the past week. After our outing to the Aquarium we continued to explore beautiful Shark Bay, including a trip to Shell Beach, the only beach in the world to be made up entirely of crushed cockle shells. It was stunning and I was happy to have the opportunity to fly the drone while the maurauding, drone-snatching Labradors were in the car chilling out to one of our favourite playlists (to drown out the sound of a drone in flight which, as we know, drives them a bit bonkers).

The next day was the much anticipated cruise around Monkey Mia. Commonsense prevailed and the Labs spent the day with a local dog minder while I enjoyed the cruise without having to worry about them disgracing themselves again and attempting to swim with the dugongs. I had a great time out on the water, spotting quite a few dugongs, dolphins and osprey. Magical.

It was a big day for all three of us and we were tired and a bit cold, so it was an early night. It wasn't until the Labs woke me for their breakfast that I knew all was not well. I realised, with a sense of dread, that the skin infection that took me to the ED in Karratha three weeks before, was back. With a vengeance.

Shark Bay is about 400km south of Carnarvon, and about the same distance north of Geraldton. And that's where the nearest doctors and hospitals are. I sensed the wheels were about to fall off - figuratively speaking; Loretta's wheels are just where they should be, thank goodness. The kind staff at the caravan park gave me directions to the town's medical centre, which is a 9-5 clinic staffed by nurses. They're not equipped to deal with any serious medical issues, but were able to give me some oral antibiotics and send me on my way with instructions to come straight back if things got worse. So we returned to the van where I retreated under the doona to try and get warm. Unfortunately things did get worse, very quickly. This recurring infection - cellulitis - is nasty and I knew from my experience last year when this happened on the other side of the country, that I needed to get to hospital quickly.

I wasn't capable of driving myself the 500 metres back to the medical centre, so the 400kms to either Geraldton or Carnarvon was right out of the question. A little bit of panic started to set in.

Not knowing quite what else to do, I called the office at the caravan park to let them know what was going on and if they had any ideas about what I might be able to do with the Labs, Loretta, the car and all my belongings. And that's when the extraordinary care and good will of people in small communities kicked into gear. Within minutes, the wonderful Kara was at my door, helping me pack some essentials and taking the Labs off my hands, while another staff member drove me to the clinic.

The nurses there got me hooked up to IV antibiotics and organised a video hook-up with a doctor in Perth, who determined I needed to be admitted to hospital and put in a request for the Royal Flying Doctor Service (RFDS) to pick me up and take me to one. We were warned that there might be a long wait for a flight, depending on the availability of planes and what other emergencies were going on around the state at the time.

For the benefit of our overseas followers, the RFDS is an iconic Australian institution. A national charitable organisation that flies doctors and medical teams to emergencies in the most remote parts of the country. We've visited museums in outback Queensland where the RFDS made its first flight in 1928; and we've seen the sections of highway across the Nullarbor and throughout WA, that are marked as emergency RFDS landing strips. No idea how they land a plane among all those road trains and caravans, but I suppose they manage it somehow.

It was about 24 hours before the RFDS was able to get wheels down (technical lingo) to pick me up in Shark Bay due to the small airstrip and the availability of a suitable aircraft. One of the of the wonderful nurses at the clinic took care of me overnight and at 3:00pm the following day, I was taken by ambulance to the airstrip and put on board a small plane which took me to Geraldton. If I hadn't been so sick, I might have been a bit excited. The view of Monkey Mia and Shark Bay flying out was spectacular and I can now cross "scenic flight" off my list of things to do. But in addition to feeling pretty unwell, I was very conscious that I was flying a long way away from the Labs (rogues that they are), Loretta and all my belongings.

Once we landed in Geraldton an ambulance was waiting to take me to hospital where I was finally admitted late on Thursday night. I have to admit to being more than a bit overwhelmed and didn't know how we were going to get through this pickle.

Most pressing was the challenge of getting back to Shark Bay and the Labs once I was discharged. With no flights and no rental cars available, the only way back was a three-day-a-week bus service that leaves Geraldton at 1:30am. So it was either that, or hitchhiking, and I think we can all agree I'm a bit old for that caper. This trip has thrown up some challenges, but this one just seemed impossibly hard.

But all I really needed to do was reach out and let people help. My family and friends on the east coast rallied around providing moral support and helping sort out our lost accommodation bookings; my old school friends living in Perth reached out to their networks to try and find me a way back to Shark Bay; the caravan community social media groups offered advice, suggestions and support; the nurses and social worker at the hospital pitched in; Geraldton locals helped in all sorts of small ways without even knowing it, and somehow it all came together.

After leaving hospital I managed to find accommodation for a night and a half in a B&B, possibly the only room available in Geraldton. And this morning, at the ungodly hour of 1:30, I boarded a bus that dropped me off at a roadhouse on the highway, and then a smaller shuttle bus that took all the way back to Loretta. I feel like I've just cleared customs in Heathrow after a long-haul cattle class flight from Sydney. But I'm now reunited with the Labs (who've had adventures of their own while I've been gone) and resting up in the comfort of little home on wheels. It was a happy and slobbery reunion...and that was just me.

I feel very lucky to have received such excellent medical care throughout this ordeal. It's easy to take our health system for granted, safe in the knowledge that it will always look after us when we need it. But times like these make you realise how very lucky we are.

And of course, all three of us are incredibly grateful to the wonderful communities in Shark Bay and in Geraldton. I don't know how we would have gotten through this without them.

The RFDS receives government funding but is reliant on sponsorships, beneficiaries and donations to meet a sizeable operational funding gap. Keeping just one intensive care aircraft in the air costs around $7m each year. If you'd like to help keep the RFDS flying, you can donate here: https://www.flyingdoctor.org.au/donatehttps://www.flyingdoctor.org.au/donate

I'm happy to say the Labs, the Penguin and I, thanks to help from our friends, are almost back in the saddle and ready to resume our journey, albeit a little daunted about the long trek back across the Nullarbor.

We hope you enjoy these photos of beautiful Shark Bay and Monkey Mia, taken before the wheels fell off, and a few assorted others. Unfortunately I always seemed to be on the wrong side of the boat to get the best pics. The brown lumps are dugongs, the dolphins and sharks are the ones with the fins.

Hopefully our next post will be a little more mundane.