2025 has been one of the hardest years of my life. I know everyone says that, and usually it sounds cliché — we all hope the next year will be better, we set wild expectations, and then life laughs in our faces (live, laugh, love right?) But honestly? 2025 for me was a shit-cake.
In late September, we set off for a two‑week holiday in Greece. Sunshine, feta, beaches, and smug Instagram posts about “living my best life.” That was the plan. What I didn’t plan for was my appendix deciding it wanted its own dramatic exit — right as I was heading home on an EasyJet flight. I blame them entirely.
One minute I was sipping ouzo, the next I was starring in my own medical drama. I was being rushed to hospital in the back of a car with a burst appendix. If you’ve ever wondered what it feels like to go from carefree tourist to emergency patient, imagine swapping your beach towel for a hospital gown and your cocktail umbrella for an IV drip. The pain was unreal, and the fear of the pain was worse. It’s not like me to be screaming in agony and passing out in an A&E waiting room, but these were extreme circumstances.
Within minutes of arriving, I was whisked into the trauma unit and handed a new type of cocktail, and this one had no umbrellas. A trauma doctor appeared looking very concerned, followed by what felt like ten more doctors, nurses, and trauma sisters. My infection count was off the charts, my vitals were bad, and I needed emergency surgery to remove my appendix and clean out the bacteria that had spread throughout my body due to peritonitis. The surgeon was Greek. The irony was not lost on me.
What followed were ten days in high care, followed by another three in a regular ward thanks to complications. I do not remember a lot of it and the first week was a blur where I was pretty much a blob in a bed, in a lot of pain and with a lot of tubing sticking out what felt like my ears and toes.
Hospitals have their own kind of comedy. The food is… let’s call it “minimalist.” The fashion is all about backless gowns. At one point, I thought: “This isn’t the Greek tragedy I signed up for.” But here’s the thing — between the morphine haze and the endless blood pressure checks, I found myself laughing at the absurdity. My holiday slideshow now includes selfies with cannulas. Honestly, best souvenir ever. What amazed me though were the volunteers: ordinary people giving up their time to bring dogs into wards or sing to patients. One man sat below my bed singing — it was hard not to get emotional… or throw a cup of cold water over him.
Humour aside, the experience taught me a few things worth sharing. That nagging pain isn’t always “just indigestion.” Sometimes it’s something else, listen to your body. Health is the ultimate travel insurance — suncream protects you from burns, but nothing protects you from organs with bad timing. Gratitude matters, because doctors, nurses, and even the person who wheels you to X‑ray are real heroes. And perspective is everything; a scar is proof you survived something worth telling a story about.
I went to Greece for sunsets and souvlaki, but I came back with a scar, a story, and a newfound respect for my insides, my health, and the incredible people who work at the NHS. If life is about collecting experiences, then I suppose this one counts.
I prepared an awards speech (read on if you are really bored), or feel free to exit group here.
I owe the biggest thank you to my husband, who quite literally watered me, fed me, carried me, and loved me through every moment of this traumatic time. To everyone who was dragged into that harrowing WhatsApp group created by him — my apologies, but also my gratitude for sticking with it.
Cara and John, you were my lifeline, driving me to the hospital and never stopping your care and love afterwards. Blaine and Tarry, thank you for letting Tjoepie take you for a walk. Chevvy and Cara, thank you for swooping in to clean the house when I couldn’t, and apparently neither could Herman 😉
To my wonderful “Bots girls,” your care package was beautiful, and to my favourite Seranne, your podcasts (or should I say voice notes) kept me sane. My amazing bosses Saul and Louise and the whole Anglo American team — your messages, flowers, and kindness meant the world. Angie, I’ll never forget the peppermint crisp or the pineapple bun balanced on your head.
And to everyone who sent treats, pajamas, candles, flowers, cake (so much cake!), chocolates, messages, and love — you know who you are. I’m being kicked off the stage now, but please know how deeply I appreciate you all.
Now… bring on Christmas, and MORE cake.
This was a wonderful couple who were volunteers that came in to sing to all of us. The lady in the corner with the gown on should probably not have done the dancing that she did following this picture ;)
Melissa Amy Carrington 