In the words of old Lizzie who lives down in London, 2011 was my "annus horribilis".
Having returned from Argentina in October 2010, I had high hopes when new year's eve came around. "I won't be here much longer!" I pronounced desperately to family, to friends, to anyone who'd listen.
Thus I started the year firing off CVs to Spain. When that didn't work, I broadened the search to include Italy, France and Portugal - In the case of the latter, "No, I don't speak the language, no, I don't know anyone there but I need to find a job." I answered my mother's enquiring look. "Yes, but you know Spain." She replied.
My birthday came and went and somebody mentioned I didn't look so well.
By now, I felt a bit tired and needed a lie down so I went to bed, I think I stayed there for 2 days it could have been more.
"You've had a rest" someone else's voice said to me because it didn't sound like mine, "You know what you have to do."
So having persuaded myself it was the right thing to do, I did the unthinkable and applied for jobs in Birmingham.
I secured gainful employment teaching Italian teenagers for a summer school at Aston University. Relieved it would only be 6 weeks, I hatched a plan. I'd save the money earned and it would pay my way to some shiny far off land and I would feel better.
The job didn't start until July and as I didn't feel so good, I thought I'd have a lie down. When I finally woke up, I wasn't sure where (or perhaps who) I was.
I knew what I had to do, GET ON A PLANE!!!! And that's exactly what I did, thanks to Ryanair, I hopped over to Palma de Mallorca and crashed with an old friend. We caught up, marvelled at how long we've known each other (I know, 16 years!!) and I made a lovely new friend (who happens to be the greatest hairdresser on the island!) got drunk and went to the beach.
For a short while I forgot about my troubles and was almost happy. Then I had to come back.
But not for long, another peruse of the Ryanair website saw me return to Palma 2 weeks later. As before, I sunbathed, I danced, I laughed, I drank and I thought.... "I could live here again..."
I returned to Birmingham, daring myself to dream a little, and set about looking for work in Palma as an English teacher, 'cos dat's wot I does, innit?! Ya, but I only teach adults and all the academies I found had more kids than business courses.
It was time for me to start readying to teach the Italians when I got a letter from the medical centre "It's time for your lady check" No problem, I thought, and booked to see the nurse.
My contract at the university was for only 6 weeks so when I received a call from the Women's Hospital a week into the course I said, "Can't it wait?" "No, we need to see you now" was the stern response.
Nonplussed, I flip-flopped to the hospital, managing to drag my Dad along for company at the last minute. Good job I did, turns out I wasn't to have the usual poke about and biopsy, this time they were going to chop bits out. "HANG ON JUST A MINUTE!" I wailed, "Can't it wait? Are you sure? No, you're not sure so can't it wait? What about the other treatment I've had? Can I think about it and come back next week??!"
"NO!!!" Barked the evil witch doctor. And that was that.
After it was over, missing part of my internal lady bits and being told that they were pretty sure I had cancer, I limped out to my waiting father who, almost literally, carried me home.
I went to bed and stayed there for a while, then I attempted to return to work. It didn't really work as I couldn't really work. I couldn't lift anything, I walked too slowly and I had "accidents". I did however make some new friends and I drank, a lot.
The 6 weeks came to an end and I went to bed. I got up around the end of November and it was dark outside, inside, almost everywhere.
The one part of my mind that hadn't succumbed to the darkness told me to get on a plane. So again, thanks to Ryanair, I took myself off to Lanzarote for some winter sun.
After 5 days I came back. "Did you have a nice time?" asked my Mom, "I don't know" I replied. So I went back to bed and this time I cried.
When I stopped crying, I went to the Dr "I'm lost in the darkness and I don't know what to do" I told him. "Don't worry, we'll get you some help."That was December, the help wouldn't arrive until January.
The next day I had a phone call from an academy in Madrid "Are you still interested in working on our residential courses?" "Ya (whatever)" I replied. Inside I marvelled at the fact I had sent them my CV in May 2010!
I had an interview and whilst awaiting their response, I went to bed and I dreamt. I dreamt of living in a little place where I could sit on my terrace and see the sea and work just a little enough to pay the rent and drink and shop and laugh. On an island, where every time you turned a corner you saw the sea, an island where it's always light.
When the academy called back they asked "Do you have any questions?" "Just one" I replied, "Can I commute from Mallorca?"
Christmas and New Year came and went and 2 weeks later my bags were packed, I paid my excess baggage and left for Palma de Mallorca.
To be continued.....
I'd like to thank my family, Rico & Dean, the Lovell sisters, Kierti, Laura, Ray, Jose, the Aston Uni Crew and everyone else near and far who wittingly or unwittingly helped me out of the darkness and into the light.
I started writing this post in January 2013, it's much abridged but I had to get it out of the way so I can start telling you what happened next!
- Posted from my iPhone
