August 29, 2008

Dear Diary,

Don’t ever say, “things just couldn’t get any worse.” That’s just a double-dog-dare-you to the gods who’s crack their collective knuckles and say, “Oh yeah? Well, watch this!” Lest I catch a lighting bolt for saying so, than – surely it must be that they want nothing more than to prove to us mortals, who’s really in control. Well then, mea maxima – MAXIMA culpa. I certainly went and lit their things-just-couldn’t-get-any-worse fuse this time, because Sestan is gone.

Gone. Without a trace. And I don’t even know where to begin to start to look for him. Who to call -- and those imbeciles at the hospital let it happen! I gave up trying to sleep and went back to the hospital that night. if he woke up, I just needed to be there. When I got there, I went to his room – and there was no one there! His bed was made up - no chart, none of his things! I assumed they had moved him to another room. I went to the nurses’ station and asked where they’d moved him. The nurse on duty looked at me and said, “The patient in room 107?” Oh, he’d been checked out.

“’Checked out’? What do you mean‘checked out’?”

“Yes,just this afternoon, Miss.”

“Checked out -- well, how is that possible? Where? He couldn’t have checked out. There must be some mistake!” I asked her to please check and then asked her again, to double check the patient list. She had to have been mistaken. I was certain of it. I was agitated. Leave it to Sestan to go all Rambo and jump a crocodile and nearly get himself killed on an island fueled by tourists swilling spiced rum and incompetent hospitals who lose track of their patients!!! Strangling the anger rising in my throat, I asked to see a supervisor – someone, anyone in charge. Shortly, I was approached by a nurse with a personality as starched as her uniform. All business, she asked if she could help me. I explained patiently,(again) that the patient in room 107 had been checked in – was gravely injured and it wasn’t possible that he could be moved -- and that now they were trying to tell me he checked out! “Please calm down,” she requested. “And what is your name please?”

“Isabelle. Isabelle Cassai ... “

“Are you family?”

“No… I’m his, friend -- his girlfriend. We’re here on vacation and I just know he wouldn’t - I mean he COULDN’T have been released without my knowing about it…“ I trailed off. Well, that was probably the farthest thing from the truth. She told me they were not able to disclose any information if I wasn’t his spouse, or immediate family. A banquet of emotions were battling for first place inside of me. I found myself trying to defend myself, but nothing I said would convince her to tell me anything besides the bare fact that he had indeed been properly released and was transferred to another hospital. She offered to review the discharge orders. “Please. Yes – please do.”

She came back and repeated the same catatonic litany. Yes, it was an authorized released. Someone had come – a gentleman –(I got her to divulge that much) whose name she could not disclose of course - and he’d made arrangements for Sestan to be transferred to another facility.

“What facility? Where? Can you just tell me where?”

“I am not authorized to disclose that Miss – you said it’s Cassai - ? That is confidential information. It’s hospital policy” (the apparent and only important deciding factor), she stated with finality.

This was only the beginning of a maddening sequence of my experience with bureaucratic bigotry at its finest.

I don’t know what I was thinking for doing this, but I found a phone and called the local police who told me that this was not a matter for law enforcement. I found my way to the hospital admitting office and spoke with staff, quizzing them - who, if they knew anything, also refused to disclose because I fail to meet the “blood relative” test. Doesn’t having someone’s blood splattered all over you because they are saving your life count for anything? They soon grew tired of me and security was summoned who “suggested” that I needed to leave the hospital premises because I was causing a disturbance. I decided that I wouldn’t be able to accomplish much to locate Sestan from a Jamaican jail cell, so I left.

I raced back to the beach house – nursing hopes that Leemoni or someone else might know something. Leemoni, received the news with calm concern. But she didn’t know anything. Still, I’ve sensed since we got here that she knows Sestan. I peppered her with dozens of questions.

Turns out, Sestan has occasioned Montego several times this year and always rents the villa when he’s there. He is a good guest she offers – considerate. But outside of housekeeping matters, she said she does not become familiar with his personal affairs. Well enough.


I’ve been trying to sort out all that’s happened – and hoping to find a thread of something that will help me find out where they took Sestan. I can’t find his passport either. He must have had it in the backpack – or maybe the jeep. I searched. Nothing.

I drove to the consulate to file an inquiry. They didn’t offer much hope or assistance, but said they will try to look into it. And if they find out anything, they will call me. I’ve now called every hospital in Montego. No one has admitted a Sestan Faraschour. What am I doing here? Should I pack up and leave?

I don’t know his family – or, if Sestan even has a family. He never mentions family. He once told me, I’m his family, but never offered any explanation. Who else can I call? His family – or lack of one, has been in the “things-we-don’t-ever-discuss” category. Most major holidays – Christmas, Easter – we spend them together, or sometimes with my father, the colonel – oh the colonel! That’s it. I need to call him. Now! He will know what I should do….. Isa B.

August 25, 2008
Dear Diary,
You just never know when the other shoe is going to drop. After Sestan totally blew me away with the necklace, I thought maybe, I could start to breathe normally. And naively, that in this place, we’d stop the careful circles and discover that we could just “be” – and that we’d start to be more open with each other. And maybe, we could talk about settling down and live our relationship – which is great, but more like other normal couples. We’ve been doing this for over five years now. We never really fight, Sestan and I. Maybe, that’s the problem. Our time together is so fragmented, that we both know it would be a vainglorious waste of time to spend it squabbling or going to those “places” neither one of us really wants to talk about. I know, I’m as bad as he is about letting him in sometimes, but honestly, he seems to have all the advantages. I mean, let’s face it – most of the time, he knows where I am. And when he doesn’t – he always seems to find out. Is there ever really a level playing field?

So, here’s how it happened. We got up the next morning and packed up our gear and some sandwiches that Leemoni prepared. Sestan really wanted to see the waterfall and I couldn’t wait to show it to him. Plus, I wanted to get some more photos. I tied on a bandana and pulled on my camo’s – (I know – I love to play “the part” – Besides, Sestan thinks my GI-Jane look is sexy~~~)




He insisted on driving, which was fine with me. The day before I was so focused on not going jeep-surfing off the mountainside that I didn’t really get to see everything. The rainforest is just indescribable. We saw so many tropical birds – everywhere!





It was so dense and lush. We we world's away from civilization.





We stopped a few times to take it all in, but Sestan didn’t want to venture too far into the jungle. “Snakes live here too,” he reminded me. I didn’t need too much convincing after that.


We got to the waterfall in about two and a half hours (because we stopped so many times), but there was still the whole day ahead of us. I actually had Sestan all to myself for the whole day – yayyyyy !! We parked the jeep not far from where I had discovered the waterfall the day before. We would have to hike in. It wasn’t too long before we could feel the mist from the waterfall – and hear the roaring waters, even before we saw it. A few minutes later, Pushing through the vines and trees – we finally emerged on a bank where we could see it thundering down the cliffs – about 60 yards from where we stood - awestruck and silent.




I started clicking away with my camera. We decided to try and find our way down to the bottom – if we followed the bank, it couldn’t be too hard.





Sestan led the way. Good thing we wore our hiking boots. I kept thinking about the snakes – (Thank you, Sestan.) Ironically, I hadn’t given them a single thought the day before! With considerable difficulty we headed down the bank. More than once, my foot got tangled in the dense overgrowth. The promise of a sparkling pool of water at the bottom of the falls where we could go for a swim kept me motivated to keep going. I had brought along a sexy bikini – but the last thing I felt right then – with sweat trickling down my face and the back of my shirt while swatting away pesky flies – was sexy. Talk about a post-card moment! But in the spirit of adventure, I decided to make the best of it and distracted myself watching the way Sestan’s muscles rippled across his back as he pushed through – trying to clear the way for me – my human compass… ”watch your step here – stay left”, he’d caution. “Wait a sec, “ and he’d hold up his hand, and consider the next tricky maneuver. It felt like we were Tarzan and Jane ~~~ (Ohhhhh, yeah Sestan would look great wearing nothing but a loin cloth!)

Glancing back at me, he asked, “What are you grinning about back there?”

Coyly, - (Well he DID ask) “Do a Tarzan yell for me,” I said.

“Ah.”

“No -- Come on! Do a REAL Tarzan yell.”

“So you dragged me all the way up to this waterfall so you could live out one of your fantasies, huh?”

I stopped like a mule. “Just Do it!”

He looked around as if I’d asked him to recite the Gettysburg address in front of the class.

“WHO is going to hear you Sestan??” The birds and the Big Bad Snakes?”

He paused … took a deep breath and then split the air with a scream … “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh – aaaaa ----- ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

I clapped – and spun in circles laughing. “That was greatttttttttttttt!!!!” I couldn’t stop laughing. “Again!!!” I begged.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAa ---- AAAAAAAAAAAAAA- Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-- EEEEE- Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!” this time beating his chest for good measure.

I literally fell down laughing. I had to sit and catch my breath. I squinted up at Sestan who was the one now grinning in self-satisfaction, that he had so pleased his audience. He stood over me and I saw a look I so well recognize, crossing his face. He put one hand seductively over his belt buckle … slowly starting to slide the leather from the clasp.

“Um, Sestan …. “

Suddenly – he lunged forward – toward me – with such force – it was like some violent attack -- I started to yelp – but he flung his body over and then to the side of me in some insane body roll that my mind couldn’t quite comprehend.

That’s when I first saw it. A huge leathery monster of a creature – was now rolling and twisting Sestan like he was a rag doll. A crocodile!! Oh my god!!!!!




I scrambled in a forward tumble on hands and knees towards the backpack which he had set on the ground while he played tarzan – and with hands shaking harder than I ever remembered – tried to steady them, frantically clawing at the zippers. Somewhere, there was a knife. Sestan always packed a knife and first aid supplies – “just in case.”

I finally saw the handle protruding from its sheath – and tugged…. It came free – contents spilling everywhere.


“Here, the knife!!!” I screamed. And threw the knife towards the writhing twosome on the ground. I completely freaked when I saw blood. Sestan’s bloodied hand groped and found the knife – cords in his neck straining to keep his head clear of the lashing teeth of the crocodile. It all happened so fast. And then – more flailing --- arms, legs… the gruesome leather reptile. I was horrified. This couldn’t be real! I watched – unable to make another sound – while Sestan slashed again and again, trying desperately to hit a soft spot of on the underbelly of the beast that was doing its best to kill him.




And then – he must have injured it with the knife – because without warning, the croc pivoted in a violent semi-circle and propelled itself down the bank and towards the water. Sestan was trying to get up – but he couldn’t. He fell back in pain. “No! Don’t move! Don’t move!” I said, rushing over to him.

“The backpack” – he gasped. “Hurry.”

I obeyed. Dragged it over and crouched over him – pulling out the first aid kit. “Oh my god -- where are you hurt?!!?” He was bleeding everywhere. I pulled at his clothes, trying to find the source of the bleeding and saw a horrible deep gash on his side – and another on his leg.

“Better go get some help.” His whole body was bent at a weird angle. I could see he was going to pass out.

“I’m not leaving you here! That thing might come back!”

“I can’t walk, Isabelle. And if I try, it’s only going to cause more bleeding. Please. You have to go get some help. You have to.” It wasn’t a request.

“Cell phone.” He was struggling to stay conscious. His breathing was weird. “There’s a cell phone in the jeep….” I was on my feet – and scrambling away.

“God, don’t let him die,” I prayed. If he dies, I’ll die too….” I was terrified and sobbing uncontrollably, but I knew he was right. I had to get help. I was running. Slipping. Running some more. It was like a bad dream. Back at the jeep – I found our cell phones. Naturally, neither worked. Damn!

I drove down the trai pell-mell, dialing and re-dialing my cell phone. Please, please, please…. Should I stop and try to text someone??? But Who??? Keep driving I told myself… picturing Sestan back there by the edge of that embankment bleeding and alone – and that crocdile still alive someplace. About thirty minutes later, I saw an all terrain vehicle on the trail – headed in my direction.

“Help --- I need help!!!!!” I yelled as I pulled along side them. Words blubbered out … ‘my boyfriend’s been attacked by a crocodile and was severely injured up by the falls! They didn’t hesitate and turned around and headed back down to go call for help. I waited right there on the trail - an hour – two? It seemed like eternity. How long would it take? If I went back up to Sestan, how would they ever find us? You can lose your mind waiting like that. The minutes – hours ticked by. Suddenly, I heard motors coming. Four jeeps – two marked like local rescue vehicles appeared. When we found our way back to Sestan, he was miraculously breathing, still alive they said, but not responding well. He had tried to tie a tourniquet around himself, before he’d lost consciousness - but had lost a lot of blood. “We’ve called for a rescue helicopter,” an officer who introduced himself as Ronaldo said. They will need to find a place where we can airlift him to a hospital.

I stayed with Sestan at the hospital for the past two days. It looks like he will be in there for at least another week – more likely two. The doctors say he was very lucky. No vital organs were severed, but major tendons were shredded in his leg. They sutured the gash in his side - but it’s the loss of blood they’re worried about. And risk of infection. They’re flooding him with antibiotics to fight infection, but he’ll need a lot of rest. today, I came back to the villa to shower and try to sleep awhile before going back. I can’t close my eyes without seeing that crocodile. I shudder and tuck my feet tightly under the blankets – even though it’s hot. My dreams are fitful. I just want Sestan to be ok. God, if you can hear me, let him be okay. - Isa B.