one particularly horrible day in January when we cheated death on Sheikh Zayed Road. Those that know me, know that for once, I’m not exaggerating about this.
Apart from sleepless nights and a hatred of reckless drivers, the accident left me with a (small) scar on my arm. I KNOW I’m super lucky and it could have been much, much worse. And every day there are people going through infinitely more horrible experiences. But the scar is on my elbow which means that I bang it on things, all the time, can’t rest my arms on the desk/table/bar (which my South African doctor suggested was probably the most traumatic part of the whole episode..said doctor also spent a good ten minutes telling me how many people he’d seen who had lost arms in such accidents - nice). Anyway this means it hurts, quite a bit, a lot of the time. But more importantly to me, it serves as a constant reminder of one really horrible day, and intrudes into my usual positive demeanor.
This being Dubai, where every employer is legally bound to provide you with free medical insurance, my doctor sent me off to get it sorted. I won’t go into the details, suffice to say that what I thought was a quick injection into my arm turned into FIFTEEN, yes, fifteen. Not great for the girl who doesn’t like needles, but I survived. Bring back Mr Men stickers and plasters from the doctor I say. Is that showing my age?!
The very nice specialist (or plastic surgery something or other as it says on her business card) told me that it will all be much better after another 2 visits. Eek. Well worth facing the needle fear to have that one final reminder erased…..