READERS REPORT (11): I ALMOST DIED AT
MY WEDDING
GERARD O’NEIL www.stuff.co.nz 06/05/2014
Most people set their wedding
date based on variables such as the availability of a church, a minister, a
desired reception location etc.
My wife and I set our wedding
date based on a chicken factory's slaughter schedule.
This was because my
parents-in-law were chicken farmers in Brazil.
The factory would send, 7,000
small, cute, fluffy chicks and 45 days later, they would be returned to the
company as fat chickens ready for killing.
Six months before our desired
wedding date my parents-in-law had a meeting with the logistics manager of the
factory to ask him if he would allow them a three-day stand down period between
chicken departure and arrives instead of the usual two days so that they could
attend our wedding 400 km away.
After several days, waiting and
much juggling of other grower's schedules the logistics manager finally gave
the green light.
During the next six months, my
wife and I set about organising our wedding.
Everything was going to plan when
all of a sudden 10 days before the happy occasion, a truck drivers' strike
began.
Initially expected to last only a
couple of days, the strike dragged on.
Unable to get chicken food to the
growers or chickens to the factory, chickens began to die in their tens of
thousands in the region.
Fortunately, my parents-in-laws
feed silo had been "topped up" just before the strike, but as time
passed, their situation also became critical.
Two days before our wedding, my
parents-in-law rang to say it would be impossible for them to leave the farm.
On the eve of our wedding they
rang again to say they were coming but would return immediately after the
ceremony.
My parents-in-law arrived at 9pm
looking extremely tired, worried and stressed. At 10pm, the neighbour looking
after the farm rang to say the last of the food had just run out.
At 11pm there was a news flash on
the television advising that there had been a breakthrough in negotiations and
the trucking strike was over.
At 2am, the neighbour rang to
inform us that the first chickens were beginning to die but then he rang again
a few minutes later.
This time he was shouting for joy
as a long line of trucks to take the chickens to the factory had just arrived.
Our story does not end happily
here however, as at the same time another drama was unfolding.
Three days before the wedding my
sister-in-law arrived with our two young nephews to stay.
Both of the nephews were
suffering from the flu. I said to my fiancée, "It will be just my luck to
catch the flu also".
Sure enough, I did and very
badly. On the eve of the wedding, we called our health insurance provider and
they sent an ambulance.
The paramedics did not consider
my situation very serious however and apart from giving me some light
medication, joked that most of my problem was probably due to nerves.
As the night passed however, I
grew sicker and sicker until by the morning I was so sick I could not get out
of bed.
We considered calling off the
wedding, but after taking a cold shower I felt slightly better and so we
decided to continue as planned.
By the time, we reached the
church however I was once again in a bad state and spent all my energy trying
not to pass out (I cannot remember a thing about the ceremony).
After the church, we went to a
hotel, where we had reserved a small restaurant just for our wedding party.
The photographer managed to take
a couple of photos before I collapsed on the floor.
This time the ambulance arrived
with sirens blaring.
The paramedics who had attended
me the night before were no longer joking. I was pumped with medicine, then
hooked up to a drip.
A discussion was begun as to what
they should do with me. Normally they said they would have taken me to the
local hospital, however it was infected with "a super bug" and if I
was taken there I would probably die.
It was decided therefore to try
to stabilise my condition and then take me home.
That night the fever broke, but
only after the paramedics had been called a second time and I was re-medicated.
On our first wedding anniversary,
my wife told me that at the restaurant one of the paramedics had taken her
aside and told her to prepare for the worst, as there was a very real
possibility that she would become a widow on her wedding day.
We have some great wedding
photos. I am so white it looks like my wife was marrying a ghost.
The photos however are proof that
17 years ago I went to my own wedding, even if I cannot recall anything about
it.
I sometimes joke with my wife
that I cannot remember saying "I do", and honestly I cannot.
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