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SD Beach Bum

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  1. I had a medical disembarkation from the 2023 World Cruise (111 days) aboard the Island Princess and have decided to share my story – and an idea. Around 5:30 PM on Friday April 7th, I tripped on a curb in Malta on my way back to the ship and broke my right (non-dominant) wrist. After I fell, I went into shock. The pain was excruciating. I stumbled towards the ship with my friend and cabinmate Beverly. Some kind soul saw that I was in obvious distress and ran back to the ship and asked for the ship to bring me a wheelchair. In the ship’s medical department, I was x-rayed. (The machine malfunctioned so they had to retake the x-rays a few times.) The fracture was diagnosed and I was immediately fitted with a cast. In order to minimize the pain from manipulating my hand back into place, I was given Ketamine as an anesthetic, since general anesthetic is apparently not allowed. I went into a terrifying psychedelic daze – it’s what I imagine a really bad LSD trip would be like. (Ketamine is used as both a recreational hallucinogen and a date rape drug and has in fact been compared to LSD.) The “trip” lasted about half an hour. When I awoke from my stupor, I had a cast on my right hand, up to my elbow. But my fingers had turned a dark shade of purple, an indication that the cast was too tight. In addition, the follow up x-ray showed that my bones were still misaligned. The ship’s MD decided I had to be immediately “medically discharged”. By now, the ship was about ½ hour away from scheduled departure. The MD kept nervously looking at his watch. The ship sent four stewards to “help” Beverly pack up all our possessions in about 10 minutes. They just threw things into the luggage and plastic bags and piled it into a taxi. We felt like the Clampetts. The ship departed on time. The taxi took off for St. James Hospital, which is highly regarded. Once the MDs there had viewed my x-rays, they determined I’d need surgery the next day. They cut off the ship’s cast. The color of my fingers immediately returned to normal. Then they gave me a new cast which did not cut off my circulation. Beverly then went to a hotel with all our stuff still in the taxi and I went into my private room, which was nice, clean, and modern. All business at the hospital is transacted in English. The staff was very nice. The food was, well, meh, like most hospital food. I had surgery on my wrist the next day (Saturday). I now have a metal plate and screw (but they don’t set off the metal detector). And I’m on cast #3. On Easter Sunday, I was discharged and joined Beverly at the Hotel Eleven, a chic, upscale hotel in a very happening part of the island called St. Julians. The cruise line’s policy is that for all medical discharges, regardless of their severity, all of the passenger’s possessions must be disembarked along with the passenger. We had driven to the port in LA and planned to drive back to San Diego, so we were not constrained by airline luggage restrictions. I remember a posting for World Cruisers made an impression: “You’ll get sick of your clothes. Bring more than usual.” We certainly never thought we’d be flying anywhere. Oops! I had embarked in January with one large bag and two small, while Beverly had two large and one small – six total. Unfortunately, Beverly had also purchased some art in New Zealand, a long carved wooden spoon in Papeete, and other things, which meant there was even more stuff to schlep. Once I was discharged, our singular focus shifted to shipping enough of our stuff in order to be able to fly to rejoin the ship. After disembarkation, before getting in the taxi, we met Kevin, the ship’s agent. He was helpful in navigating pesky customs and shipping regulations, suggesting shippers, etc. By mid-Tuesday afternoon, we had finally shipped off a new purchased suitcase filled with stuff via a luggage forwarding service, and the giant spoon had been wrapped securely and was shipped via Malta Post. Finally, we were ready to shift our focus to returning back to the ship! The next port of call on Wednesday was Marseille. The only decent available flight we could get (and the only nonstop) would arrive around midnight. We booked it. Over the previous five days I was continuously bombarded with phone calls and emails from my insurance companies as well as the Princess Family Assistance Center (PFAC) asking how they could help. I told PFAC (together with the local port agent in Marseille) that the only thing we needed help with was finding a safe hotel near the port and transport in Marseille. The city has a sketchy reputation, plus we were arriving after midnight with six bags. I wanted someone to meet us, ideally holding a sign with our names on it. I emphasized repeatedly that we had a lot of luggage and only three functioning hands. I didn’t have time to research transport and lodging myself, which is normally what I do. The resident port agent is (supposed to be) available to give guidance with logistical issues since they’re familiar with the local market Well, PFAC and the local agent failed. They were unable to send someone to meet us at the airport, which is understandable given such short notice. They told us to “just take a taxi”. When we exited the airport terminal (with our luggage on a push trolley), we couldn’t find a taxi willing to take us to our hotel, not even when we called a taxi service. Inside the airport we had seen signs warning about the dangers of gypsy cabs. Outside the terminal, were swarmed by several men who spoke to me in French (I’m fluent) but Arabic amongst themselves, insisting they could take us to our destination. We returned to the terminal, where we felt safer, but were swarmed there too. We never saw any airport police. We felt very vulnerable, not to mention exhausted and burdened by all the luggage. At the very least, PFAC and/or local agent should have warned us about the danger at the airport. Finally, someone suggested we call an Uber. That worked, but it took at least one very stressful hour to get transportation to the hotel. We were so happy to finally get there. It turned out to be an airport hotel, not near the port. The PFAC-recommended hotel didn’t have an elevator and of course there were no available rooms on the ground floor. Beverly had to schlep everything up the stairs. The room was way too small for our bags. This hotel was not appropriate given my broken wrist and all our bags. PFAC should not have recommended it. I would have done better had I researched myself. Both check out the next day and the Uber to the ship were stressful experiences, exacerbated by all the luggage. When we arrived at the port, we could see the Island Princess, but the Uber driver insisted we disembark at another terminal, quite a distance away, where one of two Costa ships was moored. I knew that was wrong and pointed to another terminal next to our ship, but he refused to budge despite my pleading. From that point, it took about one and a half hours for us to finally board the ship. We could easily have walked had we not been burdened by all the luggage. We were thrilled to get back on the ship in Marseille after five days. Regarding insurance, my HMO in California (Kaiser Permanente) covers emergency medical expenses incurred anywhere in the world, but I supplemented that with an AIG Travel Guard Trip Interruption and Cancellation policy. AIG told me they don’t foresee any problems reimbursing me for the hotel stays in Malta and Marseille, airfare to Marseille, and incidentals, but maybe not for the extra two days in Malta required to ship enough things to be able to fly. I also had an Evacuation Policy with EA Plus. They would have been willing to get me home, but not anywhere else. Two nights after returning to the ship, I relayed my saga to a friend. When she learned we had to completely vacate our cabin and bring everything with us, she said, “You could have kept everything in my cabin until your return!” That’s when I had a forehead-slapping “Wow, I could have had a V-8” moment – and an idea. I’m sure I’m not the first person to come up with this, but my idea is for groups of passengers on longer cruises to form “mutual aid alliances” in advance and agree to store each other’s personal effects for a few days if any one member of the alliance has to medically disembark with a high likelihood of returning to the ship. In my case, it was clear I’d be returning barring unforeseen consequences. In serious situations, it obviously wouldn’t be appropriate. All parties in the alliance would have access to other members’ contact information so as to be able to act expeditiously. On the ship, people could be reached by cabin phone, and their whereabouts detected on the ship’s app. I realize not all ships have this feature yet. Offshore, they could be texted. A larger group of four to five cabins would make it more likely that at least one person would be reachable right away. If necessary, the stuff could spread amongst different cabins. In my case, since the decision to medically offboard was made so close to departure time, this plan would have been a bit trickier, though instead of bringing my stuff down to the gangway, the stewards could have taken it to another cabin. Five days later, I would have reclaimed it. Princess doesn’t care if another passenger keeps your things while you’re gone, as long as they have no responsibility. This arrangement is not without its risks. If another passenger agrees to safeguard your possessions, s/he will be stuck dealing with it if for whatever reason you don’t return to the ship. Similarly, a dishonest passenger could rifle through your possessions and take things. Had such a mutual aid arrangement been in place for me, I would have saved: (1) Time. We would have been able to return to the ship at least one and possibly two days earlier. (2) Money. The cost of buying a new suitcase and shipping my items was – eeek – around €600 and not reimbursable by insurance. In addition, insurance may not cover the extra time spent in Malta arranging the shipping logistics. (3) Stress. Dealing with all that stuff instead of resting to recuperate from surgery, as well as the ordeal at the Marseille airport, exacerbated by all the luggage, was very nerve-wracking. Beverly and I have already made a mutual aid pact with other passengers. We only have about three weeks left, but you never know. This alliance could be particularly beneficial for passengers with more stuff than what a plane could accommodate, and for those travelling alone. Another ship friend told me he opted to stay on the ship while his spouse was medically disembarked – specifically because of the requirement to vacate the cabin and remove all personal possessions. That option wasn’t presented to us, but I could have easily gone alone from the hospital to the airport, flown to Marseille, and boarded the ship with just a small carry-on bag. BTW, I’m doing well and am not in pain. I’m trying to arrange a cast change during our nine hours in Fort Lauderdale on April 27. Once I return home, I’ll still be required to wear a cast for about two more weeks. That’s going to be a challenge since I live alone. I plan to relax and enjoy myself for the remainder of the cruise!
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