Just two days earlier I had wished for more time in Dahab. Now I was sitting in the hospital next to a huge decompression chamber. Careful what you wish for.
Two days ago I started my advanced scuba diving training. After the first dive, I chalked up the light-headed and dizzy feeling to low blood pressure. After each subsequent dive, I felt progressively dizzier and dizzier. When I could no longer walk a straight line, I decided that being 30 ft underwater in the dark was a poor idea and canceled my night dive. When I woke up the next day my room was still spinning so my dive master took me to the hospital. I now sat anxiously awaiting the doctor's diagnosis.
"You have to stay in Dahab 5-10 more days". I have vertigo.
No dropping 90ft down in the blue hole, no drifting through the canyon, no exploring the wreck of Thistlegorm. No more diving on this trip. Also no hiking to watch the sunrise from the top of Mt. Sinai and even my trip to Petra is in jeopardy since it involves a mountain pass in Jordan.
Disappointed? Of course. Sad? I'm somehow finding it hard to be sad as I sip my mango juice and watch the waves roll lazily in. I can't seem to think of a better place to be trapped in, and now that I constantly feel dizzily drunk, I can save money on beer. I stumble back to my dorm room, feeling much like Lucille 2 from Arrested Development.