Helping abroad

Well, it’s official – I’m going to the Philippines next year!

For those that have been following, you might remember me mentioning becoming the newest member of the Helping Children Smile Organisation about two months ago (if not, read about it here). You might also remember me applying for next year’s mission trip in February to perform free surgery for the children over there with cleft palates – and lo and behold, one phone call last week confirmed I was successful!

In all honesty, being so new to the team, I wasn’t really sure whether I was in with much of a chance of being selected in the first place. It’s a huge trip with so many applicants each round, and I had only been there for all of five minutes. But encouraged by a couple of the girls at last month’s meeting, and with the CN application ordeal fresh in my memory – I figured there was no harm in showing my interest. This is my year of conquering fear, after all.

I’d originally put in an expression of interest for the ‘admin’ position – similar to a being a go-for. Someone who would help with the admissions, file paperwork and run errands. While it wasn’t exactly a position that would utilise my nursing skills as such, it would have been the perfect position to get a taste for the trip, in the hope to return the following year in a more surgical position.

So when I received a cryptic phone call asking whether I would have any interest in being a recovery nurse for the trip, I couldn’t help but feel the excitement bubble. Apparently, my experience in surgical nursing and airway management in neonates in my nursing internship made me a little more eligible than a go-for. One week later, I was officially asked to accompany the 2018 Mission Trip as the newest recovery nurse to the team.

I had to use every ounce of self-control to not sequel down the line, but the smile that breached ear to ear said enough. It was as if it had all been falling in place since the moment I spotted the infamous post of Facebook. If there was ever a moment where I have felt like something was just meant to be – this was it, this was that moment.

I now have a lot to organise, including applying for a temporary permit to work in the Philippines – which is a whole other level of paperwork in itself. But I’m no way complaining. This is certainly going to be one amazing experience. And at the risk of sounding a little too much like my Father, there really is no substitute for doing something like this.

I’m so excited to use my nursing career for something so meaningful, in a place that really needs it. It’s been on the Bucket List for a long time, and finally #52 has found it’s promising ‘check’ – so stay tuned for that one. I’m already looking for forward to blogging this amazing adventure next February!

d x

Philippines

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The essentials of surviving adulthood.

The thing about being an adult is that you come to love the things you never thought you would. It’s the realisation that you now find a sale on vacuum cleaners at Myers exciting, and that the prospect of a Bunnings trip gets you feeling like it’s going to be a great day.

Whatever happened to my care-free Saturday nights out on the town until 5am? I’ll never quite know. But I will tell you one thing, I’m not entirely missing it (Cue freak out! Who am I even?).

I think that in that moment you are aware that you’ve well and truely crossed the threshold into adulthood is an odd concept to comprehend at first. To then realise you care about the condition of your front lawn as much as your father does, is to realise there really is no going back. You have arrived at your destination. You are an adult now. Congratulations.

And yeah it’s daunting at first – what is a variable rate and why does everyone suddenly need all my money? But after a little while, you start to get the hang of it and life makes more sense now, than it perhaps ever has before. You start to realise the value of money, the things that you own and the people around you. And at the risk of sounding like a true adult – this is maybe one of the greatest lessons you’ll ever learn.

When I think about adulthood, I’ve come to realise that if you let go of the fear that holds you back, being a grown-up isn’t all that bad. If you take the age of being responsible and put it to good use, this chapter of your life may just supersede the greatness of being a carefree teen.

But in order to supersede, there are three essentials in the survival of adulthood. And the sooner you figure them out, the better you will be for it…so, I’ll let you in on the secret now.

  1. Make Goals
    As an adult, you’ll need to make goals. Realistic and timely goals. Find a direction for your life and set about fulfilling its purpose. It’s not always easy to find your path, but start with the small things – like purchasing a drill, and then let it snowball into building a house. If you just start, one by one, you find yourself crossing things off the list and creating this life you imagined when you were younger but never thought you would ever bring to fruition. It changes your independence, and before you know it, the training wheels are off. You’re doing it. You’re pedalling through life on your own, and theres no fear.
  2.  Travel Far
    As an adult you’ll add an extensive amount of destinations to your travel list. But take the time and make it one of your goals to see all the places you’re dreaming of at some point. There’s nothing quite like experiencing how different somebody else lives. You’ll learn to breathe a different air and realise the world is so much bigger than you, and the tiny corner of the earth you’ve been living in. It changes how you think, how you view your own life. It’s like putting on a new pair of glasses and seeing things in a whole new way. It makes you grateful, it makes you knowledgable.
  3. Love Always
    Let yourself fall in love, more deeply than you ever have before. Find out what it means to give everything with no expectation of return. You’ll realise the importance of having people in your life that are only going to enrich it. You’ll learn that some people, no matter how hard you hoped against it, will let you down –  and that there is beauty in rising from the hurt. You’ll then truely know the value of the ones that have never left your side, even through the darkest of moments. It changes the way you treat others, it makes you strong and it will define you in a way nothing else ever will.

Being an adult is the point at which you start to build the foundations for your future and if your clever, you’ll learn to love every downfall, every learning curve, and every triumph along the way because it counts for everything. You’ll learn to embrace your flaws and focus on your strengths, using them to make adulthood your own awe-inspiring story.

Be brave and learn to laugh, see it for the adventure that it is. Newly acquired adulthood is mostly about figuring a way through the most unfamiliar situations, like rookie-plumbing a drainage system down the side of the house, and being ecstatically proud when you achieve what you set out to (and theres no leak in sight!).

Welcome to adulthood, now you have the essentials – supersede.

d x

kids-in-shoes

 

 

 

 

 

Fiddle-leaf Friend.

It’s well-known that I like to make friends with my plants (all inanimate objects really – in a much less psychiatric way than that sounds). I’ve totally become one of those people who speak to their greens in the rare case they might hear me and grow a little better. 

It’s also well-known that I’m not the greatest of all gardeners, and like many new beginners, have a regrettable track record at keeping things alive (green, plant things that is! My human patients have never suffered from my lack of a green thumb I promise!). It would seem that plants are yet to learn how to love me as much as I love them.

From an outsiders perspective, it looks like an easy gig. Water, sunlight, fertiliser – and voila! But I am here to confirm that all is not as it seems in the world of plants, and my goodness – I have so much to learn. 

Buy a succulent, they said. It’s impossible to kill those, they said. Well, they were wrong. I’m the kind of ambitious gardener who apparently can kill a succulent. My last venture out into the garden almost burnt my beautiful gardenias alive with a little too much blood and bone fertiliser. Apparently, you’re supposed to use that stuff sparingly and at least ten centimetres away from the plant itself…

But never fear! This August, I’m turning over a new leaf (pun definitely intended). I’m learning how to be the crazy plant lady in all my glory – starting with Fred the Fiddle Leaf Fig. 

Fred arrived last Friday with a tiny height of 50cm and as cute as you get when it comes to plants. Wanting to keep this one on the healthy side of preservation, I did a little research and thought I might as well share it for anyone else who, like me, may not be plant-rearing-gifted. 

I’ll call the following tips collectively… How to best love your fiddle-leaf friend 🌿 And wish it to be the most helpful gardeners how-to list you read today!

Here we go:

1) Sunlight

Fiddles love the sun, or at least, they love the humidity and brightness the sun brings – and not quite the direct sun rays. So keep this in mind when choosing the perfect place to keep your new green friend. I keep Fred in the corner of the main lounge room. There’s always plenty of sun to keep him in the brightness all day, with a little refuge thanks to the charcoal curtains adorning the window. 

2) Water

One important thing to know is that Fiddles don’t love being watered as much as you imagine they would. They are easily susceptible to root rot – and trust me, that looks just as bad as it sounds. Only water your Fiddle when the top inch of soil is dry. If you’re not sure, try sticking your finger in the soil and work it out by feel. Depending on the weather, the potting and the position, you might find your Fiddle only needs to be watered once or twice a month! (Talk about low maintainence!). 

3) Food

Fertilise your Fiddle regularly! They thrive off being fed at least once every month throughout their growing seasons (this means you get a break over the winter months!). Try using a weak liquid fertiliser – if you’re not sure which one, I’m sure your local garden centre staff can point you in the right direction. 

4) Soil

When it comes to soil, Fiddles aren’t picky. Any good soil will do the trick as long as it’s a fast-draining potting mix that will allow water to move freely through. My tip: go for quality soil over the cheaper priced ones – your Fiddle Leaf leaves will adore you all the more for it. 

5) Leaf Care

Your Fiddle will need some TLC from time to time with its beautiful large leaves. Being such a great indoor plant unfortunately doesn’t make it immune to catching dust. So every now and then, take to the leaves with a cloth to gently wipe away any residual on the leaf’s top side. This will help your Fiddle to absorb as much light as possible and increase its ability to avoid fungal infections. It also brings back the gloss we all love!

6) Pruning

If you want to have a little influence over how your Fiddle grows, you might want to give pruning a go. Fiddles should only be pruned in the Spring months (this is its best growing season!). Pruning promotes branching and a thicker growth. If you want your Fiddle to look similar to a tree, make sure you prune from the top to encourage the branching out up there! Fred is a one metre high variety, perfect for my little home – so I’m thinking I’ll just let him do his thing!

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is apparently all there is to it! 

Here’s to hoping my little Fiddle Leaf Fred (and yours too of course) stays glossy, healthy and happy from here on out! 

August is definitely the month for learning how to make my plants love me one ‘How-to-self-help’ list at a time! Next, I think I’ll try jasmine….

Happy gardening!

d x

Charitable adventure.  

At the age of twenty-four, I’ve come to realise there’s seemingly a great many things in my life predominantly attributed to Facebook. Call it a perk of growing up in the 21st century, or perhaps the curse of a social media addiction – either way, when I think about how many of my life endeavours so far have started, the phrase “Oh, I saw this post on Facebook...” has become somewhat of a common thread. 

Sure, in it’s formative years Facebook was designed with the purpose to connect with love ones, and shamelessly spam their walls one singular reply at a time. But fourteen years onwards, it’s evolved into somewhat of a online marketplace and showcase. And I can’t argue that it’s not entirely a clever way of doing things in this day and age. 

After all, my puppy was discovered on a early morning Facebook post – and he’s the greatest adventure I’ve embarked upon so far. 

So of course, in-keeping with my Facebook discovery methodology, I happened to stumble upon another Facebook post about two months ago, which has since opened a door I’ve been debating how to unlock for a while now. 

It was a picture of a group of strangers happily smiling at the other end of a camera lense. Facebook proudly announced above the picture in bold, that someone I knew had been tagged there. 

I searched the faces and found a nurse I’d worked with for a few years now, hidden at the back. It seemed she had been a part of a trip somewhere, her matching blue shirt in keeping with the rest of her team. 

Curiousity getting the better of me, I clicked on the picture and zoomed in on the wording iron-pressed to the blue shirts. I typed the logo name into Facebook and clicked on a charity page for ‘Helping Children Smile‘. 

As I read the mission statement for the organisation, I immediately fell in love with its cause. I remember reading through the website feeling a familiar tug at my heart, knowing that this was something I so desperately wanted to be a part of. 

Helping Children Smile is an organisation that raises funds for ongoing mission trips to the Phillipines each year to perform free surgery for the children there born with cleft lips and cleft palates. 

They take a team of doctors and nurses to different parts of the Phillipines with each trip, and completely change the lives and futures of over 30 children in the timeframe of two weeks. 

With cleft lips and palates being heriditary – it’s become somewhat of an epidemic over there. And for the little ones who face a future of difficulties living with the deformity, surgery would otherwise prove to be too costly. 

Having watched a close family member experience the difficulties associated with being born with a cleft palate, and personally laid witness to the benefit surgery has provided, the HCS cause found a niche within the confines of my heart that day. 

Two months later, I am officially HCS’s newest member and somehow feel this was one of my best Facebook finds yet. I’ve always wanted to do more with my nursing, reach the furtherest corners of this earth, make my skills matter. But I’ve just never really known quite how to, perhaps until now. 

I’m not sure where it’ll lead me, but I know it’s exactly where I’m meant to be because it fits like a new piece to my puzzle. And to have the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of others? I really couldn’t have wished to have stumbled upon anything better. 

The next mission trip is coming up in February next year, so who knows, maybe that’s my next adventure? I’ve applied, so I’ll keep you posted on that one!

Nurse by day, HCS enthusiast by night. Nothing else has ever been more worth it if I get to make even the smallest of difference in the world. 

You can check out more about Helping Children Smile here if you’d like. 

And as for you Facebook, you may just be a social media website, but I have every faith that you hold the many more seedlings to sprout my next big thing. Here’s to the newest adventure!

d x 

A nurse’s wish

How we treat each other is important.

We may look or speak differently, we may like different things. We may fill our glasses to the brim, or leave them permanently half-full, but the simple fact we all have in common, is that we are human.

We are all just trying to live life the best way we know how, and what separates us shouldn’t define how we treat each other.

But you see, as humans we have somehow lost this concept beneath the opinions and judgement, and we have fumbled with the objective of being kind. Undoubtedly, I think many of us have at some point in our lives been made to feel as if all the kindness in the world had already been used up. Or at least, I know I have.

As a nurse, feeling like people have forgotten how to be kind is sometimes all too common. We understand the heartache that is encased between the walls of our hospitals, we have seen life cease and felt broken at the loss of the ones we have nursed. You may not see the tears, but our own love ones do the moment we set foot inside the door at home and let it overpower us in a way you’ll never quite understand. We grasp the concept that while we see broken people and sickness every day, that you have not and that it is frightening to watch a love one, or be the one, to battle through it. We get it. It’s scary.

But just because that scares you, and just because it becomes difficult to express your emotions in times like these, please do not make us the enemy. We have only ever come to work to care for others. And I promise you that there is no one who woke up in the morning and thought, how could I make my patient’s feel terrible today?

We became nurses, doctors and members of the healthcare system because we wanted to help and because we cared. We didn’t do it because we thought it would be an easy job, because its not. And whether you’re a patient or a family member, it has never been okay to abuse us as if it is, and as if we haven’t given our all to make a difference in your life.

Last week, I looked after a lady who had underwent a rather large surgery on her bowel. These kind of surgeries are always tricky in their recovery and pose an increased risk for complications. Unfortunately, this lady experienced at least three of the complications we predicted, prolonging her stay with us in hospital.

After two weeks in hospital, the drugs we had been giving her had begun to take their toll. Along with not being able to eat proper food just yet, she had lost a considerable amount of weight becoming the shadow of the woman she was on admission.

But yet, she continued to smile. Through her bad days, she laughed deliberately as if to convince herself that sadness was unachievable. And I admired her for it.

Her eldest son came to visit her for the first time on day 10 of her recovery. He had not been there at the day of surgery, and had not visited his mother for months prior. Nevertheless, he had decided to visit and that had made day 10 more bearable for his mother than he would ever know. 

However, when he walked into the hospital ward, he brought with him anger. From the moment he announced his arrival at the nurse’s station, he made it very clear that there was nothing I could have ever done in his mother’s care that would have been good enough.

My smiles and polite welcomes were met with a hostility and doubt in my ability. He was aggressive, and quick to speak negatively in reply to my answers. He frowned so much it seemed that his face had altogether forgotten how to smile. There was seemingly no muscle memory for happiness.

He demanded rather than asking, and he expected people to part in the corridor for him. He was threatening and lumped his weight around as if to beat his chest in a gorilla-like claim to the jungle throne. He was the kind of person I struggled to warm to, but then he never made it easy.

I spent the next four days being berated by this man. Nothing I had done to help his mother was enough. He was rude, and arrogant towards me as if trying to pull me up on something I may have overlooked or not done. He became somewhat child-like in his exasperation, trying to make the entire hospital bend to his will and becoming furious when he felt we did not.

He didn’t like the way the tape was stuck down to his mother’s drains – it made him feel uncomfortable. He didn’t like that there wasn’t enough cutlery on the bedside table and thought there should have been a separate spoon for each container on the dinner tray. He didn’t like that there wasn’t a supplies caddy in each patient’s room and requested that 55 pads be brought to his mother’s room immediately ‘just in case’. The list was relentless.

His final complaint came on day four. He had not liked seeing his mother in a hospital gown stating that it had made him feel uncomfortable for her to not look like his mother. As it was explained, there were prominent medical reasons as to why she could no longer be dressed in her own night clothes that pertained to the protection of the central lines now used to deliver life-prolonging medication. For most people, this would suffice as an explanation. But for this man, it became the pump his anger fuelled on.

In reply to my explanation, his volatile nature exploded. In the hallway, he aggressively placed his face centimetres away from mine whilst repeatedly quoting his chosen sentence without intermission. It was an intimidating tactic that I was sure was meant to shake me to my boots, but I held strong, fuelled by my own internal anger that someone could be treating me this way when all I had done was try to care for his mother in the very best way I could.

He continued his childish tantrum for over an hour, aiming to pull me down with his cruel words. When finally asked to refrain from being rude his reply formed as a taunt a school child might have used, stating that while I thought he was rude, he thought I was unhelpful and a poor excuse for a nurse, concluding the argument with “So, checkmate!”.

I couldn’t help but shake my head in disbelief that a grown man could let anger control him so profoundly that this was the most appropriate retort he could find. And so I left it at that, no longer seeing the point in any further conversation with this man.

But that didn’t stop him from calling back to the ward once he had left to further harass me, telling the administration officer that he was my husband in the attempt to be put through directly to my dect phone. It was an onslaught of never-ending aggressive intimidation, as if he thought he could make me break to his will.

And all over a hospital gown? I was speechless at the stupidity of it all, and how it had escalated to needing security to scan incoming phone calls.

But while I sit here and struggle to comprehend how it became the biggest event of the day, I have enough clarity of thought to understand where this outburst stems from. Having never seen his mother so sick before, having not been there for the operation in the first place, and having so little medical knowledge, there is a certain fear that envelopes him. It’s like a vine slowing climbing through his entire body, outgrowing logical reasoning. He can’t think beyond the fear, and all it threatens to take from him. The fear leaves him with no control over the situation, and that becomes frightening for a man who quite obviously has little experience with being in such a state. So he resorts to anger, and I became the punching bag.

It’s not an excuse, but I have to believe that in a different circumstance he could practice human interaction with a little more humanity and kindness than he bestowed upon me. His words, though I know to be untrue, have still had an impact on me. They’ve left me to question how I could spend so much time caring for someone, only to have it thrown back in my face as not being good enough? How is there people out there in the world who think treating others this way to get what you want is okay? When did the world become a place where we hurt the ones who have only ever endeavoured to do good?

And sadly, this man isn’t the only one to have ever treated me in this way over the last three years I have been a nurse.

The bottom line is that we have lost an element of kindness I think we used to have. And the very fact that we are human means that we are going to let our emotions dictate our actions, so I will always understand why. But please, before you cave to the fear, think about the journey others are facing.  Try to harness a little kindness first, see it from someone else’s point of view before you open your mouth. How you treat others has more of an impact on them than you could ever really know.

I am a nurse. My whole life is centred on caring. I only have your best interests at heart. So please, be kind. This is my nurse’s wish.

d x


 

The difference between want and need. 

Can we ever really be content?

I think as humans we never stop chasing desire. We have this unquenchable thirst for the things that we can’t have, or can… but absolutely do not need

It would seem that the moment we are lucky enough to obtain the things we want most, desire evolves and revolutionises our definitions of happy.

I always had three big financial goals. The first was to save enough for a house, then for a new car and then for a wedding, that is of course, if a certain someone ever did decided to put a ring on it (ahem…still waiting). 

Well, I’m now 24 and I’ve built the house, I’ve bought the car and I’ve saved for the hypothetical-wedding (as there’s no shiny diamond yet). And I thought that by achieving these goals of mine I would happily fall asleep each night, utterly content with life and all it entailed. 

But lately, I somehow find myself awake in the early hours of the morning, chasing new desires in my mind.

And I am astounded by myself and my all-too-human flaw in wanting for more. I feel that this makes me greedy and I’m so uncomfortable with the feeling. How can I want more? Why isn’t what I have enough? 

I simply can’t fathom how I can feel so helpless for the people in the world with far less than me, yet crave trivial things such as new couch cushions and a fiddle leaf fig tree. It’s obsurd to me that I can in one state of mind, know I am privileged to have the things I have and yet in the other throw that notion to the wind in search of decor matching tea towels. 

I’m left to wonder whether these materialistic traits are avoidable or simply embedded into the very fabric of our beings as humans. 

Because I would very much like to turn down the dial on the wants, and focus solely on the needs. And with every attempt at this, I’m finding I’m walking a very find line between the both. 

It’s easy to walk into a shop and get a little hazy on what exactly constitutes a ‘need’. Especially when you walk away from a ‘want’ with all the best intentions, only to arrive back twenty minutes later convinced that it simply must be a ‘need’ in disguise due to the fact that you’ve been unable to stop thinking about it since you first laid eyes on it. 

Trust me, I have been there. 

But I think it simply comes down to this. The difference between need and want is functionality, and a little more self control than you ever think you have left in you at the time. 

Could you function without it? Can you do all that you need to do this week without it? No? Then it’s a need. Everything else earns the title of a want, and gets to stay put on the shelf while you pat yourself on the back for leaving it there. Seriously, good job!

It doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t sometimes get the things want. It just is important to know the difference. And just when the right time is to endulge in the wants. 

So, I’m trying my best to stop chasing the wants in the early hours for a little while and instead turn my focus to trying to harness a little more contentness in the things that I have got. Because  I think sometimes that’s where happiness truely stems from – being content with your empire exactly the way it is. 

I’m opting for functionality. And hoping to embrace a little more gratitude over gluttony on my travels. I’m aiming for contentment in every way possible. It doesn’t mean I stop chasing dreams, or moving forward in my life – I have too much on the bucket list for that! It just means a revolutionary act of finding comfort in what I’ve achieved so far, and striving for the things that will only add value to my life. 

It’s okay to have a wants list, just don’t let it dictate your happiness, because I can promise you that a long lasting happiness simply can’t be bought. 

Be more with less. 

d x

 

#65

Whilst away on my tropical getaway, I finally had the chance to do something I’ve embarrassingly enough, never done before…. I snorkelled!

Yes, I can tell you now that it is entirely possible to live 24 years and not don the ol’ flippers and snorkel to investigate what lays beneath the oceans skin. I am the very proof. So upon visiting the picturesque Mystery Island last month, I decided to change that small life fact of mine.

It may not be a huge leap and bound in the big scheme of things, but it was something I have always wanted to do given my intrigue with the ocean. And so it found a worthy home at #65 on the bucket list.

Having never snorkelled before, and being mostly a nose-breather (it’s a thing, just ask any nurse), I must admit that I found it a little hard to do at first. Training your brain to suddenly only breathe through your mouth in an almost dire circumstance given that you are under the sea and water in your lungs is not exactly compatible with life; wasn’t exactly easy.

I resembled something close to a struggling baby seahorse at first, trying to coordinate breathing and swimming simultaneously. Throw in a subtle wave or two to supersede the end of my snorkel, and you could have easily found enormous entertainment in my personal underwater wrangle.

But for the sake of the rainbow fish, I persevered.

Eventually I grew accustomed to having a little less air in my lungs, and slowed down my breathing enough to find a slow rhythm with my stride. I was able to navigate the oceans movement and anticipated the waves. I almost instinctively learnt how to blow any water that dared to enter my sacred breathing tube right back out into the air above.

After an hour, I decided I was brave enough to attempt a dive under the surface. After two seconds of deciding this, I was convinced being brave was a death warrant. Cue struggling baby seahorse performance number two. How people did this so naturally was beyond me. It was like the moment the water travelled down the snorkel and touched my lips, my body spontaneously thought, ‘Oh sure, come on in!’.

But for the sake of the blue starfish, I persevered.

Spitting out the salty ocean water my body had executively decided to harbour, I tried again. This time concentrating on blowing the air in my lungs out slowly enough to combat the water. By day two of snorkelling, I had this manoeuvre down pat enough to venture through tunnels in the reef at Paradise Cove in Port Vila.

This baby seahorse had found her wings… or scales? Either way, I had become a little less entertaining to the observers onshore.

It was worth every moment of frantic underwater fear, and salty-ocean-water-swallowing just to swim with the multitudes of tiny fish who call these beautiful reefs home. From clown fish (totally found Nemo), to vibrant coloured starfish; giant sea slugs, to vicious eels; curious reef sharks, to bright coral – it was an experience I enjoyed whole-heartedly and plan to do a lot more of in the future.

I’ll call it my warm up for scuba-diving – which also makes the list, and I just know that when I get to it I’m going to love it just as much, if not more!

Oh, just as a side note for anyone else who, just like me, may have not yet snorkelled – here’s a prominent tip above all else… try only to smile internally at the beauty of it all. As it turns out, smiling externally breaks the seal of your snorkel mask causing a great deal of salt water to flood your eyeballs. And take it from me, it’s not a pleasant experience.

#65 – Go Snorkelling: Check!

d x