The Andaman Islands
We decided to head to the Andaman Islands, south of India, for a bit of warm weather. Plus we’d read they were paradise and concluded we may never get the chance to venture here again. And there are crocodiles, what could be better. We were totes ready to get our tan on and get eaten by crocs and practically skipped to the airport.

Havelock Island
This was our first stop and we spent a few days cycling to beautiful beaches and shitting ourselves in case the crocs came for us. And when I say cycling around I mean 11 km each way to a certain beach. On a shit bike. With one gear. Up lots of hills. On a road full of pot holes. It was the first time in my life I have ever gotten off a bike and pushed it. So the day ended with severely sore bottoms and nappy rash without a nappy.

And then I acted in a Bollywood commercial.

I was just casually strolling along the beach one morning when I was approached by the producer and asked if I could do them a favour. Of course I was willing to give a red flower to the hot Brazilian actor, sure why not. But then a woman came over and started powdering me up. Err, excuse me, what are you doing to my face and why? And then came the worst news; I had to look the Brazilian in the eyes as we passed the flower. I cringed. And nearly died then and there. And then. He accidentally touched my hand. And I died. Hand holding, touching, or anything else like that is not my thing, it’s a fear. And I had visions of Lyvette coming to find me, surrounded by cameras, staring deep into some random eyes whilst passing a red flower. It was all too much. But I did get offered a banana and a milkshake at the end.

And when my fame on Havelock Island became too much we left for Neil Island.

Neil Island
There was a good group staying at our resort and this is where we met the Americans, Smoke Jumpers – they jump out of planes to put out fires (seriously, what sort of job is that?!) This means they are very good at first aid (which is important information for later on in the blog). We went for food and a few drinks and discovered that they were a ‘non judgement group’ (their words) which was great when we started talking about shit and downing beers in a lady like manner (that may have been me). And it was very chilled. All fun and games.

Until Lyvette fell down the toilet.

Yes. Down. The. Toilet.
Now, this is where things get a little hazy…

Lyvette’s version of the story
We went for food. We went to the Beer Bar (that’s what happens when people don’t judge). Six of us squeezed into a tuk tuk meant for three. We chilled on the hammock. Bit of a blur. Was bitten by a snake. Face down on a lilo. Was definitely bitten by a snake. May or may not have gained a bit of hepatitis B (we now realise that contracting hep B from a toilet is highly unlikely but anything goes when you’re delirious because you’ve been bitten by a snake).

Heather’s version of the story
We went for food. We went to the Beer Bar (that’s what happens when people don’t judge). Bit of a blur. No recollection of the tuk tuk. Or the hammock. Come to with Lyvette lying on a lilo outside our hut with the Americans holding back the blood from the gaping wound across her Achilles. She was bitten by a snake. I encouraged them to give her one of my antibiotics for squirty poo’s. I am now, somehow, on the lilo.

The Americans’ (and most accurate) version of the story
We went for food. We went to the Beer Bar (that’s what happens when people don’t judge). Six of us squeezed into a tuk tuk meant for three. We chilled on the hammock. Casey and Heather were walking back when they heard Lyvette screaming on the floor outside the toilets. Casey ran to get his head torch. 20 seconds later he and the others find Heather carrying Lyvette in her arms to their hut. Lyvette claims to have been bitten by a snake. That’s not true. They know this because, basically, they are not stupid (well not all of them). They put Lyvette on a lilo and clean her wound. They debate whether to stitch it then and there because it’s pretty deep but decide against this and tape it up. They give her an antibiotic that Heather uses for squirty poo’s. Lyvette claims to have been bitten by a snake. Bronson goes to scope out the truth and follows the trail of blood across the garden. There’s blood all over the squatter toilet which is cracked. Lyvette fell down the toilet. The Mancunians refuse to accept this. Then Heather and Lyvette spend the next 5 minutes asking ‘what happened?’ and why is Lyvette on a lilo? Who’s is the blood? Was someone bitten by a snake? It’s like they both had concussion.

Other additions to the story
George and Will, two English boys in the room next door were woken up by the drama of Lyvette on the lilo outside their room. Apparently the night finally ended with Heather and Lyvette in bed loudly discussing the likelihood that Lyvette had hep B. George and Will heard this extremely loud conversation through the walls.
“Have I got Hepatitis B?”
“Shit you might have yeah.”
“Can you get Hep B from a snake bite?”
“You can definitely get it from a squatter toilet in India.”
“Shit, I’m dying. I’ve got Hepatitis B?”
“Don’t worry we’ll catch the snake in the morning.”

And that’s what happened. Lyvette flopped over the next morning crippled with pain from her non snake bite and we remembered bits of the night before. It was like a scene out of The Hangover. Will advised Lyvette to have some of his joint to ease the inevitable pain of the hospital stitches. And then we went to hospital armed with an American to carry Lyvette because she couldn’t walk. The wound was deep. Across the Achilles. I saw Casey grimace and I glanced at the cut and nearly vomited. I had to lie down outside surrounded by sick people. Then I heard Lyvette’s screams and went back inside to find a tuk tuk driver stitching her up. Or at least the uniform he was wearing looked like a tuk tuk drivers. Then I went to get the prescriptions from the lady in her office but couldn’t be bothered to take both shoes off (this is compulsory in many places in India) and so just took one off and hopped over to her desk kicking people with my non hopping leg on the way in a bid to get there faster. I returned outside to find Lyvette lying on the hospital floor having an ELD (Emergency Lie Down). She still couldn’t walk so Casey had to carry her back to the tuk tuk (probably the driver who had just stitched her up) and she got motion sickness and had to lie down on the road again while I tried not to think about severed heels and Casey purchased toilet roll for us.

I felt so sick at the thought of a gashed Achilles I had to have a beer. I was also upset that I had lost my £1.60 real life Havaianas that I’d purchased in the Philippines, somewhere on the hammock the night before and could not locate them anywhere. I’d also lost a bit of big and little toe in the drama of the night before. Lyvette needs to think herself lucky…

The next few days went by with Lyvette hopping around on her bamboo crutch that Will made her and getting a lot of motion sickness from people carrying her. Anyone available would be her taxi from room to restaurant (thanks Matt). We then changed her dressing. ‘We’ being not me. Bronson sniffed it and said it smelled good. So I sniffed it too. It smelled great. Then he mentioned putting hand sanitiser on it…not too sure about that one but hey, if a guy jumps into fires he clearly knows his shit about hand sanitiser and its uses. And we realised the injury may be worse than we thought. The others reckoned the Achilles tendon may have been cut but we needed to go to the proper hospital in Port Blair to find out the sitch.

Port Blair
We said goodbye to Neil Island and our new favourite people. Everyone had been great during Lyvette’s falling down the toilet incident and we actually loved them for it, the entire resort were ace and even though it was emotional times we also had a lot of laughs (seriously who rips their Achilles falling down a toilet?)

The plan was to get to Port Blair, find a place to stay, ditch the bags and go to the hospital first thing in the morning as it was late in the evening and a public holiday so there would be no surgeons on duty.
The first drama occurred as soon as we stepped (hobbled) off the ferry. It was about an 800m walk to get to the gate that led out of the docks with no transport available. Obviously Lyvette couldn’t walk this far and I had 6 bags and a small Mancunian to carry. It was ambitious. Luckily there was an (extremely overcrowded) ambulance that the staff dragged Lyvette onto. They said they’d stop outside the dock gates and she could get off. So I lugged all of the luggage the 800m to the gates like a packhorse and watched the ambulance just in front of me.
And then it went through the gates.
And turned right.
With no intention of stopping.
And disappeared into a cloud of dust and cow pat.
Errr, wait. WAIT! Stop. STOP!!!! I tried to run, but I was too weighed down by the six bags hanging off every possible part of my body and could barely see through bags. All I could do was watch the ambulance and Lyvette’s anguish filled face zoom off into the distance. Shit. Lyvette had just disappeared into the depths of Port Blair in an ambulance with no money, phone, half an Achilles tendon and a bamboo stick for company. The guards at the dock gates stopped and stared at the six bags as I screamed “where has that ambulance gone?!” Luckily it had gone to the hospital. So the six bags and I got a tuk tuk there and found Lyvette sitting in a ward in a wheelchair sobbing with relief that she’d been found. “The ambulance just didn’t stop! And someone kept kicking my leg. And I have nothing except my bamboo crutch!” Trust me I know, you disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Anyway Port Blair, we went to the hospital to get an MRI to check the damage. The Achilles was completely ripped and we were due to fly to Delhi an hour later but we needed a ‘fit to fly note’. Now one thing about Indian doctors and nurses is that they are rough and they will just grab your ripped tendon and waft it in the air like it’s a flag. I can’t even describe how bad I felt for Lyvette, with a 36mm gap in her tendon and people prodding and grabbing it I almost screamed for her. She was in agony. They nearly got a whack with a bamboo crutch.
However, we did especially like one nurse’s diagnosis of whether she was fit to fly when she said to Lyvette (who had entered in a wheelchair);
“Can you walk?” No.
“You can”. No. I CAN’T.
“Try?” I can’t.
“You can if your friend holds you.” So I held her up as she wobbled on her good leg.
“Ah see, fit to fly!” That’s a great diagnosis….

Eventually, after an MRI, medical notes and lots of screaming later we were good to go. And then my Achilles started hurting. So much so I developed a limp as I hobbled behind Lyvette’s wheelchair holding her crutch. We had 1 hour until we were meant to fly and Lyvette had just had her leg put in plaster. Cue a lot of dramatic running around by me as I tried to carry Lyvette, 2 x 11kg backpacks, 2 x7kg bags, 2 x handbags, 1 x bottle of water and a bamboo crutch into the airport. With only one pair of hands. Not even an octopus could have done that. But eventually, after some rushing and a lot of help from the airport staff we made it to Delhi.

Next I’m heading back to England for two weeks, before going to Australia for two weeks and then heading to New Zealand for the next working holiday adventure. Lyvette has decided to continue to Australia to stay with her uncle as planned but will have surgery there so we’re hoping it will go well. It will take a long time to recover and 6-8 weeks to walk again but she’s a Mancunian so she can handle it.

Fingers crossed these Two Small Mancunians will both make it to the land of the Kiwi’s together
With Achilles tendons attached.
One thing’s for sure, we’ll be avoiding squatter toilets for a while!

And that, my friends, is the story of how Lyvette fell down the toilet….