The Case of the Three-Thousand-Dollar Black Bean

Claire in her "hospital costume," as she called it, right before they put her under.

Claire in her “hospital costume,” as she called it, right before they put her under.

To say that the last week was a rough one would be putting it mildly.

After striking out Monday at the local clinics and waiting out the national holiday on Tuesday, Aaron and I caught the ferry Wednesday morning with Claire, rented a car (from Big Papa, because in the out-islands, everything is family run) and drove to the clinic in Marsh Harbor.

We were so hopeful, but after multiple attempts to get the bean out, we had to come to terms with the realization that true medical help was not only necessary, but a plane ride away.

Claire, happy as can be in her pillow fort, in our hotel room in Marsh Harbor.

Claire, happy as can be in her pillow fort, in our hotel room in Marsh Harbor.

Sitting in our hotel room that night in Marsh Harbor, waiting for the flight Claire and I would have to catch the following morning to go to the hospital in Nassau, Aaron and I were in bad shape. Totally defeated. We just couldn’t catch a break, it seemed.

“Do you want to quit?” “…Do you?”

Honestly, we didn’t know what the other would say.

You see, the bean was the cherry on top of two weeks that have been equal amounts stressful and wonderful. Yes, there have been amazing anchorages, gorgeous beaches, swimming and snorkeling, and great friends.  The other half of the story is that, shortly after we crossed to the Bahamas, our batteries stopped holding their charge and would die overnight. Our watermaker all of a sudden started functioning at 50% the output we had when we brought it online in Florida. One of the windows of our hard dodger shattered, showering our entire cockpit and parts of our salon with glass.

Our Wi-Fi for tethering to our phones, which we need for work, wouldn’t load properly, even after hours of troubleshooting. Bugs started cropping up in our galley at night. And a prolonged cold front came through that not only brought temps too chilly for swimming, but also winds and a sea state that made getting further south impossible until it lifted.

And then, Claire stuck a bean up her nose – “tree trunk,” she named it shortly after it took up residence in her left nostril. So you see, we were already pretty run down.

Planes, trains and automobiles - all because of a little black bean

Planes, trains and automobiles – all because of a little black bean

In a really big way, we were lucky. Though we had to get the bean out as soon as possible, Claire’s “ailment” was not painful. But it was extremely traumatic for her, not really knowing what was going on, with Aaron and me trying to hold her down and doctors she didn’t know shoving tools she didn’t understand down her nose.

The biggest contributor to the decision to fly to Nassau was that she simply wouldn’t lay still. She just couldn’t calm down, even with a shot of Valium to try to ease the anxiety. With each attempt at the clinic in Marsh Harbor, her fight got stronger, and it became less and less safe to try to get the bean out. So, alas, a flight to Nassau, where she could be safely put under, was in order. If it’s any indication of the state she was in when we got to the hospital, even the sight of a nurse walking in with a pen would send her cowering behind me, poor thing.

The staff at Doctor’s Hospital in Nassau was fine. We went straight there from the airport and were registered in the emergency room almost immediately. Shortly thereafter, the doctor on call told me he was working with the ENT and the anesthesiologist to determine a plan.

Keeping spirits up in the waiting room! Markers make everything better.

Keeping spirits up in the waiting room! Markers make everything better.

What I didn’t know, though, and I wish the doctor in Marsh Harbor had told me, is that to put Claire under safely, she needed to have fasted for at least six hours. I had given her snacks on the 1 p.m. flight, so we had to sit and wait until 7 p.m. for them to treat her, Claire getting more and more hungry and antsy as the minutes wore on.

Finally, when it was time, I think Claire was so excited to finally leave the waiting room we had been in for hours that she took it like a champ, happily putting the hospital gown on, smiling, joking with the nurses. She gave me a thumbs up while they wheeled her away in her bed – it was as far as I was allowed to go – and they sent me out to the waiting room. It was an absolutely horrible feeling.

The infamous black bean

The infamous black bean

But 20 minutes later, it was done. The bean had been successfully removed, she was waking up and I was allowed back up to see her. “They found tree trunk,” Claire said in a sleepy stupor, and as I called Aaron with the news, relief washed over us. We flew back the next morning, took a cab back to the ferry dock, made the 20-minute trip across the Sea of Abaco, and were back on Clarity by 11 a.m.

So let’s talk money. The ferry for Aaron and Claire to get to the mainland on Monday ($21 round trip per person) and the cab to and from the Cooper’s Town Clinic. The ferry back to mainland for the three of us on Wednesday morning, the rental car to drive to Marsh Harbor ($75), the hotel stay ($150), as we’d missed the window to get back for the last ferry. Then on Thursday, the flight for two (round trip – $300 for the 30-minute flight, thanks to last-minute booking), the cab to the hospital, the cab from the hospital to the hotel, the cost of the hotel stay in Nassau ($260, the cheapest we could find), the cab from the hotel to the airport on Friday, the flight back, the cab for Claire and I back down to the ferry stop ($85), and the return ferry trip. And that’s just travel.

The first two clinics – Green Turtle and Cooper’s Town – didn’t charge us anything, and for all of the effort of the doctor in Marsh Harbor and his staff, and the medicine they used, the total was only $115. At the hospital, however, there was the emergency room charge ($500), for simply registering and sitting in the waiting room for more than four hours. Then the substantial charges really began, because to have her put under, she actually had to be admitted. And with that comes the cost for the ENT, the cost for the anesthesiologist, the cost for the nurses, the cost for the bed. We had to put down an additional deposit of $2,500 for them to even treat her.

We don’t have the final bills yet, but the charges for the hospital visit alone will be more than $2k (they could be more or less than the required deposit – we have no way of knowing until we get the bill).

Of course, you do what you have to do. We never hesitated, each step of the way, in getting Claire the care she needed. In doing as much as we could together, then Claire and I flying ourselves to Nassau to save the flight fee for the third person. In trying as best as we both could to swallow our frustrations and exhaustion and keep Claire in good spirits.

Kids are so resilient; it always amazes me. The same day she and I made it back to the boat, she was out playing at the beach with her friends, supremely happy. No pain, no residual symptoms, nothing.

I slept 12 hours that night. I still feel tired.

We’re trying our best to not let these things kill our spirit. Aaron was able to isolate and fix the issue with the batteries and we have a plan for troubleshooting the watermaker. With fastidious cleaning and a military approach to crumbs and food waste, the bug issue seems to be dissipating. We’ve found a place in Marsh Harbor that can replace our shattered cockpit window, we have a workaround for the Wi-Fi, and the seas should finally lay down enough in the next day or two for us to head south.

Above everything, though, Claire is healthy and back to her happy self, running face-first into the waves and setting up coconut stands on the beach with her friends.

I’m sure six months or a year from now, I’ll look back on the story of the black bean and laugh. Right now, it’s still just a bit too soon.

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8 thoughts on “The Case of the Three-Thousand-Dollar Black Bean

  1. *hug* you always knew this was going to be challenging. And there will be times when it seems like it might be easier to give up. But it sounds like you guys took a deep breath. And some sleep. and tackled all the problems one by one. Claire may be resilient. SO ARE YOU! *HUG*

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  2. Now I know why God instructs us to pray for one another. If you were on land back home, your furnace could have gone out, a bird could have flown through your window (happened to us) and your Internet could have gone out. Move forward taking one day and a time. This too shall pass. And grandma Penny would probably be there in a heartbeat to help her little Claire if you needed her. ♡♡♡♡

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  3. Wow what a exhausting experience! Glad the offending bean is out now.

    I have been following your adventure with interest as we are a family of 5 living aboard in the Bahamas. We left Hope Town shortly before you arrived. When you say you will head south next do you mean Exumas or Eleuthera? If Exumas look for the Dawn Treader. We are the Lagoon 450 catamaran with 3 kids and a German Shepherd running around on deck. We would love to connect if our paths cross.

    Thanks for sharing your journey. When things like this happen to us I like to say, ” Glad we got the bad luck out of the way, now on to the drama-free fun!” May it be fair winds and smooth sailing for your family from here on out!

    Sincerely,
    Rosa Linda Román
    s/v Dawn Treader

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  4. Oh, I am so sorry, guys! This never-ending high wind situation has been dispiriting for everyone, even without the bean incident. Being continually buffeted makes all problems seem insurmountable. Our anchorage has been absolute garbage; thank goodness it seems to be finally calming down. Get yourselves to the Exumas, and all the drama will be forgotten.

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