It was 2:30 in the morning when I woke. The first thing I heard was the ticking of the wall clock, then the quiet drone of the air conditioning unit above me. I knew Heather was sleeping in the other single bed in the room. As I slowly came to full consciousness, I opened my eyes. First I noticed the hiss of oxygen coming out of the plastic tube that snaked around from behind me, under my chin and to my nose. Next, I felt the tape on the back of my left wrist that held the IV tube which disappeared under the skin there. On my right wrist was the hospital ID bracelet. I was propped up into an almost-sitting position. Moments later the drone of the first of many calls to prayer, which emanated from one of several mosques nearby, began. If I hadn’t woken up beforehand, this definitely would have roused me from my slumber. It all came back to me then. I was twenty-four hours into the worst health crisis of my life and we were stranded in the small city of Banyuwangi, in the eastern province of Muslim-dominated Java, Indonesia.

Just two days ago we had embarked on the start of a seven-day road trip with our guide and driver, Ade. The plan was to drive through western Bali, take a car ferry across to Java and visit several sites in the eastern province of the island. Ade, originally from Java, now living on Bali, was highly recommended by some friends. He had access to places there no one else did. He wanted his clients to see the “real Java” and we were totally onboard. Our first two days, after departing the ferry in Banyuwangi, were to head to Baluran National Park. It was an incredibly diverse area, ecologically, and encompassed rainforest, savanna, mangrove swamps, volcanic black sand beaches and, towering over everything, Mount Baluran. Ade had led the first Western tourist, only back in October of 2018, to the summit. He promised some unique experiences. The first afternoon we drove to Kawah Wurung, or ‘Failed Crater’, which, after a short hike, offered 360-degree views of the surrounding mountains and of Ijen, which contained a sulphur-spewing, blue-flame fire in it’s crater.

The following day we rose early to catch sunrise from the beach along the northern part of the park. We boarded a small wooden boat that would take us along the shore to the only village located within the park’s boundaries, known for grazing it’s large herd of cattle along the shoreline. Chugging along on the boat, marveling at the unwinding scenery in front of us, we, along with Ade, were joined by Hendrick, the park’s head ranger and the three crewmen of the boat. The calm water of the Java Sea lapped at the volcanic black sand beach, which was backed by mangroves and forest. The green canopy stretched back to, and up the slopes of Mount Baluran. Ijen and other volcanic peaks dotted the horizon from east to west.

We arrived at the village in time to see the last part of the cattle herd (nearly two hundred strong) being driven along the black sand to the sparse grasslands behind the mangroves. After landing on the beach, we walked about twenty minutes to one of Hendrick’s ranger stations where we settled down to have our packed breakfast. Then we boarded motorbikes, with drivers, to take us most of the way back west, along muddy trails, to our waiting boat for the short ride to the starting point, and Ade’s waiting car. The afternoon was spent driving park roads through the savanna, spotting deer, water buffalo and long-tailed macaque monkeys. A pair of hornbills screeched in the trees above us as we walked a short trail from the parking area at Bama Beach on the park’s east side. By evening we were back at our homestay in Sitabondo. Heather needed some rest, as she had been battling a cold for the past two days, and that morning’s 4:30 am start was taking it’s toll. Later that evening was when everything started to go south.

After dinner, I retired to bed around nine, Heather fast asleep in the bed beside mine. I had noticed a slight twinge in my chest as I tried to get comfortable. Waking at 2 am, the twinge had turned to a dull pain. I couldn’t lay on my right side. By 3 I couldn’t lay down at all. Propped up by a pillow I tried to reason out my predicament. Stabbing pain in the right-side of my chest. But no radiating pain to my shoulders or arms. No tingling in my fingers. No shortness of breath or feelings of nausea. I was not having a heart attack. I could wait this out. The pain grew. When Heather woke at just after six I told her my predicament. Googling symptoms on her phone she came back with two possibilities: a viral infection of the lung or a blood clot. Sitting up the symptoms subsided a little. Maybe I could ride this out and it would go away. The problem was that our plan for the coming day involved traveling south for two hours by car. Then we would transfer to a jeep for the three hour journey to Meru Bethiri National Park along the southern coast of Java, where we would spend the night at a back-country ranger station to view sea turtles laying their eggs along the beach and joining in on the release of new hatchlings to the sea the next morning. If things went downhill, we would be about as far-removed from care as we could get. The decision was made to return to Banyuwangi, the closest hospital to our location. As we started the hour drive, Heather was texting with our friend, Kristi, back in Colorado. She’s an operating room nurse and our go-to source for health questions while traveling. Throughout the ride Kristi passed along suggestions and gave advice. Given the specific pain in the right-side chest area, she was convinced of a pulmonary issue. We arrived at the hospital and sat while Ade went to the reception desk to arrange for a doctor to see me. On a whim, Kristi texted one more question to Heather – ‘had I experienced any pain in my calf recently?’ I turned to her in surprise. In fact, I had been having unexplained tightness in my right calf over the past four days. But what could that have to do with pain in my chest? We anxiously hovered over the phone waiting for the reply. When it came we were speechless. Kristi stated unequivocally “I am 100% certain. A blood clot from your leg has detached and lodged in your lung. There can be no delay in treatment.” She then listed a series of drug injections, blood tests and other monitoring that needed to be started ASAP. Heather sprung to action. She demanded access to the ER and we were promptly taken in. While walking to a curtained area, she was reading off Kristi’s recommendations to anyone who would listen. Nurses started an IV drip, took my blood pressure and performed an EKG. The doctor arrived and Heather repeated her action list. Heather became increasingly frustrated as the doctors seemed to focus on my right leg. After all, she had mentioned the calf pain and they wanted to investigate that as well, even rolling me along to X-ray to rule out any fractures. Only then convinced that the leg was healthy would they proceed to determining the cause of my chest pain. When an injection was ordered, Ade would take the prescription and run to the pharmacy department to purchase the drug, hand it to the nurse, who in turn would administer it. A bit crazy. The decision to admit me was made and I thought perhaps Ade would leave us, assuming our tour was finished. But he never left our side. And I mean that literally – he slept outside our private hospital room (on a mat on the tile floor of the terrace) for two nights; fetched meals for Heather (I suffered through the hospital food); was always present when doctors and nurses came to the room in order to interpret; and supplied us with bottled water. 

I’m lucky. I had two blood clots lodge in my lungs. No permanent damage done. I have a wife who fought tooth and nail for me to get the proper course of care. She spent the first two days at my side, sleeping in my room, then keeping me company during the day throughout my eight-day stay, despite suffering through a cold.  I had a friend, over 9,000 miles away, who correctly diagnosed my condition, when the local doctors couldn’t. I had someone who was a perfect stranger just two days earlier refuse to abandon us and supported us throughout my hospital stay. After a week I felt good – other than the cold I caught, and was released. I’ll have to take it easy for a couple weeks, until a follow-up exam hopefully shows that the DVT in my leg has completely dissolved. Then it’ll be time to head out to Raja Ampat. The reefs are calling!