Or: How a Vacation Turned Into a Medical Drama I Never Asked For
Hello my fellow crocheters!
Today I’m kicking off a brand-new series of blog posts — a series that will combine:
- crocheting
- Nina’s chaos
- doctor visits
- emotional rollercoasters
- financial struggles
- family life
- and one (okay… two) unexpected love stories
Basically: ALL the things that shaped my last two years.
If you’ve read my previous posts, you already know pieces of the story. But now I’m diving deeper. Honest, personal, human, messy, funny, painful, and hopefully helpful.
But first — important disclaimer:
- I am not a medical professional.
- Everything I share is based on my own experience.
- Do NOT assume crocheting will magically cure mental illness (even though it helps a lot).
- Everyone needs to find their own coping tools — but it’s absolutely okay to accept help.
Alright. Ready? Then let me take you back to the beginning…
Imagine: September 2023 🇹🇷
The “Perfect Vacation” That Wasn’t
Picture this: It’s mid-September. You’re packing your suitcase with cute summer clothes, bikinis, flip-flops, hopes, dreams, and 0% awareness of the chaos coming your way.
You’re excited because it’s your first vacation in Turkey, you know Turkish all-inclusive is legendary, you’re traveling with one of your best friends, and you’re ready for sun, gin tonics, and sea water therapy.
We booked a hotel full of German guests (you KNOW the service level slaps when Germans approve 😄).
We arrived — and wow. The hotel was even better than advertised. I fell in love with the bed immediately. Like, soulmate-level comfort. We had a balcony, a Seaview, perfect weather, and unlimited food.
I had high hopes of looking sexy in my bikini… But the moment I saw the buffet I already knew: “Yeah… vacation weight will be REAL.”
The first 2–3 days were perfect. Sun. Beach. Sea. Food. Repeat.
And Then Disaster Struck… Literally From a Nap
One extremely hot afternoon, I decided it was too warm outside and I needed a nap. I went to bed perfectly fine. I woke up… completely broken.
I couldn’t get on my feet. My lower back exploded in pain. Every movement hurt like crazy.
I texted my friend like: “Help. I am dying. Please bring food, rescue, or a miracle.”
We contacted our delegate, who sent us the number of a translator at a private hospital partnered with the hotel. Ten minutes later, I was in a van on my way to the hospital.
Plot Twist: The Hospital Was Actually… Nice?
After the first exam, the doctor suspected a herniated disc. They kept me for a few days. And honestly? It was like staying in a five-star hospital spa: huge private room, TV, luxurious bathroom, amazing food, quiet, air-conditioning, soft blankets.
I’m not saying I recommend injuring yourself in Turkey… BUT the hospital vibes were excellent.
I got treatments, painkillers, rest. And after 2.5 days they sent me back to the hotel. The rest of the vacation I spent in the shade, looking like a sad sun-avoiding vampire. But hey — I tried to enjoy it.
The Flight Home = Pure Torture
The painkillers lasted only half the flight. I learned what airport assistance feels like (speedy security check — nice; everyone staring — less nice).
For the first time, I truly understood how disabled people feel when strangers judge them without knowing the story. It hit me hard.
By the time we landed in Bratislava, I was DONE. I took a taxi and went straight to bed.
Monday morning, I saw my GP… And that was the start of my first long-term sick leave.
Stay Tuned for Part 2!
In the next post, I’ll talk about what happened before the surgery, life between the two sick leaves, how it all escalated, and the journey toward the 2024 spine surgery.
Looking forward to seeing you there! Grab some tea, brace yourself, and prepare for Part 2.
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