Vacation failure

Okay, I really don't feel like writing in English anymore.
So I need to know how many English speaking humans that actually read this blog?
Give a shout, and we'll see what I do about it.
If it's just you Chels, I'm sorry, I have to say my Norwegian is more suitable for blogging for me.

Anywho.
This is going to be a long ass blog.

This happened at the airport in Oslo(and me who thought I didn't bruise very easily):


Kos, or Cos, or whatever, went straight to hell. The two first days were pretty fun.
I managed to get drunk two times the first day. I learned fast that was not the smartest thing to do if I wanted to look good later on.
Trying to put on mascara and liquid eyeliner drunk, is not easy.
But yeah, at least we had fun.








Next day I was ready for more fun. But then waking up third day I was in so much pain it couldn't even be described as a hangover.
I thought, of course, that it was hangover and that it would be over that day.
But then the next was just as bad, and the next, and the next.
Doctors and hospital was involved, no body thinking it was other than a stomach flu or just the alcohol doing just a little more damage than usual.
(the story is much more detailed and complicated, but I'm not gonna write more than whats necessary)

On the 7th day, not having been able to have fun and party with people all week, laying on the bed most of the time, either throwing up or surviving pain, my dad thought it would be smart to get me to a better hospital.
So we managed to get me on a plane to Athens.

I need to say, I was so embarrassed. Sitting on the plain to Athens I felt well.
At times I could have moments where I felt pretty alright and I thought maybe THIS time, it's going to be fine.
So when I came I was like, umh. I don't really feel bad right now, it might come back though! ehhe, ehhe.
They found out very quickly that my Appendicitis had burst and I needed surgery right away. They didn't know how long it had been burst for.
Having a burst Appendicitis is life threatening to the max.

Of course I was so scared I started crying. Not because I needed surgery but the fact that I was going to have to get in narcosis, which freaks me out.
Everything that has the effect to make me high, from this day on scares me so much, because earlier in the vaycay the doctor had given me a painkiller that made me over-medicated. It was a horrible experience that I would rather not duplicate.

My mom came down the day after though, and stayed with me for 6 days, until I could go home. Since I had a lack of walking possibilities, the only thing we could do was sit in the hospital room watching TV, read and talk. The days went by kind of slowly.
At least they went and I'm so glad everything is alright.

Me at the Hospital:


okay so my the vacation I had been looking forward to for such a long time got to waste. I'm getting most if not everything back on the insurance, luckily.
That means I don't need to owe my dad as much, and that also means I can start(and it'll be easier) saving for London trip.
I've been wanting to go there for, I don't even know how long, and I might go there two times. One before Christmas and one after. 'Cause it's with different people.

Today I hung out with René. It was nice, we just walked around, got stuff to eat and went and got new gauges for me. Now I'm soo tired, I've barely slept.
I will probably go to bed pretty early.