Our Lives
A trip to the bathroom changed my life in an instant.
As I placed two drinks on the bar, my customer handed me the money and said: ‘And get one for yourself.’
It was generous, but after a 14-hour shift, I couldn’t stomach another tequila shot.
‘I’ve got terrible heartburn,’ I said to my boyfriend Blake, as we headed back to my place later.
Blake and I had met working behind the bar at the same leisure complex seven months earlier, and we’d really hit it off.
When we weren’t pulling pints, we shared a love of partying and rollercoasters, and I could see us settling down together.
Luckily, there was something very important that we agreed on. No kids.
‘Not for me,’ Blake had said. ‘Too right,’ I’d replied, laughing. ‘I had enough of that at my sister’s.’
I’d temporarily moved in with her during the pandemic. And while I adored her children, being around three kids in lockdown, all day every day, had made me realise how full-on motherhood was.
I was 33 and just wanted to enjoy myself.
But there wasn’t much of that going on, because soon after getting heartburn, I began feeling really poorly.
When I was sick in the toilets at work, I blamed it on eating leftover sushi for breakfast.
And then Blake and I both caught Covid.
By the time we recovered later that month, it was Blake’s 37th birthday.
I’d planned for us to go skydiving, but having been off work ill, money was tight. So I took us out for a meal instead.
Four days later, I was back at work, but I still felt rotten.
Concerned it was the after-effects of Covid, my boss sent me home early.
But no sooner had I got there, than I started bleeding.
A period now? I thought. Typical!
Exhausted, I went to bed. But next morning at 5am, I woke up with terrible cramps.
I ran a hot bath and got in, thinking that would help.
But it didn’t.
And when I tried to get out of the water, I realised I couldn’t stand up.
By now the pain was getting unbearable so I called out to Blake.
‘Help!’ I shouted. ‘I’m stuck in the bath!’
But he couldn’t hear me.
I screamed again and again. The bleeding was getting worse, but try as I might, I just couldn’t drag myself out.
By the time Blake ran in, I’d been in the bath for four hours and his face paled as he took in the scene.
The room looked like there’d been a murder.
‘I’m calling an ambulance,’ Blake gasped, helping me out of the freezing water.
As he spoke to the emergency operator, I sat down on the toilet, still bleeding.
I was in pain and wailing so much, Blake had to leave the room so he could hear what the operator was saying.
And sudden
