The fun-packed week in Switzerland had no sooner started than I was lying on a hospital bed after a close call with death, writes Niamh Hooper
In my rational mind, I knew I would come out of the anaesthetic but as I lay on the stretcher, with the handsome Swiss anaesthetist holding my hand, tears collected in my ears. Thousands of miles from home, I'd never felt so alone yet so connected. It was just my creator and me. We were in this together.
Only a day in Switzerland, and I had been looking forward to indulging my outdoor sporty streak with some white-water rafting, paragliding and mountain biking in their Adventure Sports capital of Interlaken. Within 20 minutes of donning my helmet and heading off on our bikes in a group, I - and my bike - had plunged down a sheer mountain face.
Moments before I'd stopped because the dirt trail ahead looked too dangerous. And then to my left I noticed the mountain dropped away even more sharply. And as I was about to say to the person beside me: "Could you imagine being the poor unfortunate to fall down there", we were doing just that.
My body's response to the fright of being so close to such a sheer drop was to pull on the brake. In Switzerland bike brakes are reversed. I'd pulled the back brake and the bike skidded. Out of control we tumbled and by the time we got tangled in vegetation, I had dislocated and smashed my shoulder and humerus in three. The bike was with me all the way. So were my angels who took a hell of a battering for me. I had also split my knee open and the knee cap popped out - not that I knew that when shuffling off the mountain aided by the adventure company owner, Renato and a fellow biker.
A car awaited me and I was driven to Interlaken hospital, 30 minutes away. I was attended to immediately but I could barely give my details so severe was the pain in my arm and shoulder, but it was reassuring to know I was being looked after - even if I couldn't understand a word.
X-rays showed the damage was too complicated for the medics at Interlaken to repair, so tanked up with thousands of Swiss Francs worth of drugs and connected to various drips, three hours later I was in an ambulance to Bern University Hospital. I remember feeling like I was in a kaleidoscope - the paramedic wore glasses and I was seeing triple but I'll never forget her kindness.
The care I received was first class. I was assigned English-speaking staff throughout. In the blur that was the rest of that day, a series of more x-rays, a CAT scan, and an MRI followed and then 10 hours after my accident, it was just the anaesthetist, his assistant and me in the glaring white lights of the operating theatre.
When I came to, I was so happy to be allowed to sip water for the first time in 17 hours and to be wheeled over to the window to breath in fresh air. My new shoulder - with a plate and five screws - was wrapped tightly in a brace that I would sleep in for six weeks.
Home for the next week was the orthopaedic ward with a balcony overlooking the mountains and city. The menu choice was between meat-based and vegetarian meals and if that didn't appeal, there was always the à la carte menu.
As the nurses were about to finish their shifts, they would introduce me to the carer who would be looking after me for the next few hours. I was washed and had a nightie change twice daily. They cut up my food, tied up my hair, washed it in the shower, checked I was letting my arm hang several times a day to prevent it seizing and wrapped me up again in my ingeniously elaborate brace. Beside my bed I had my own television, radio and phone. Thank God for the wonder of phones and text messages - laughter was always at my fingertips.
Because I was not accustomed to taking medication, when the cocktail of antibiotics, painkillers, nausea-killers and daily anti-thrombosis injections took its toll, I was crippled with stomach cramps. A nurse gave me fennel tea and massaged anti-spasmodic essential oil into the area.
I was paid a daily visit by the assistant surgeon Dr Franz and the physiotherapist Jasmin. And just before I left, the little bird who had flown in the window beside my bed several times during the week popped by to say goodbye.
And then came the time to bid my new friends adieu. We couldn't speak a word of each other's language, but that didn't matter. The eyes and smiles as I as taken away to Geneva Airport said it all. It may have been one of the worst accidents Renato had ever seen but everything happens for a reason and I know just how lucky I am - especially when my insurance covered the cost of treatment.