Jaime Lauren Photography | Fine Art Film Wedding Photographer | Okanagan, Sonoma, Carmel, Big Sur

So it’s been a while.  And life has taken quite a turn since I last posted.  Many of you know about the camel accident in Jordan’s Wadi Rum that lead to my two week stay in a Jordanian hospital and the events that have brought our grand adventure to a premature end, but for those who don’t know, and for those who have been asking for more details, this post is for you.  Also, there are photos…I only managed to get a few from Wadi Rum as my fall happened just two hours into our trek, but I’m really grateful for what I have!

Where do I start.  I could start with our walk across the Israeli/Jordanian border, or our sunset drive from the border to Wadi Rum, or our bone-rattling moonlit jeep ride into the desert for our first night in Wadi Rum, but you know what, I’m just too exhausted. These days everything takes a lot of effort.  From getting dressed in the morning, to eating a meal, to exercises intended to keep my muscles from atrophying, the art of minimal movement while being restricted to bed rest is tiresome.  So I figure that along with photos, a description of the actual accident and how I arrived at the hospital in Aqaba should suffice.

It was 10:00 am on October 29, and Will and I were riding our camels side by side across swaths of ever-shifting sand, under a blanket of blue.  In the distance, pink windswept cliffs sculpted the landscape and provided something to train my lens on while bobbing up an down like a ship at sea.  My camel was on Will’s left and slightly ahead of his; both were tethered to the guide’s camel just paces ahead of ours.  The unearthly quiet of the land was punctuated only by our Bedouin guide’s desert songs and some sporadic conversations on our end; how much we were looking forward to a few days of peace and quiet away from the chaos of the world, the fact that we would definitely have no problem bringing young children to any of the places we’d traveled to thus far, and how we should try and arrange a jungle trek by elephant while in Thailand.  We were sauntering along enjoying the spectacular desert  views, when Will’s jacket tumbled from his lap to the ground, a fair distance below when seated atop a 7-8 foot high camel.  He called out to the guide so we could stop, and that’s the last thing I remember as the fall has been blocked from my memory.  Apparently, Will’s camel and the guide’s camel were unfazed by Will’s attempt to get the guide’s attention.   Mine, however, was either an over reactor like yours truly, or still shaking off a long night’s rest.  Perhaps he/she was just not a morning camel.  Either way, the camel spooked well enough to toss me off to my right side.  I believe I was holding on to the saddle horn of sorts with my left hand, as I had my camera strapped to me and held loosely in my right.  I had just taken one last photo.

The first thing I can remember after tumbling between our two camels was lying on my back in the desert sand, screaming in fear as Will’s camel came trundling overtop of me.  I can recall brilliant shafts of sunlight streaming down between the swaying ungulates as camel hooves passed only inches above my face.  I cowered in futility, my hands reflexively covering my face.  The camels came to a halt a few meters ahead of where I lay, but it took a few moments for Will and the guide to clamber down and reach my side.  I took those moments to both cry out for Will repeatedly and to assess my situation.  I have spent my entire life hearing countless stories about what to do at the scene of an accident as both of my parents have extensive experience dealing with medical emergencies in remote or geographically difficult locations.  Somehow I had the clarity of mind (despite my hollering) to keep my head and neck still while tentatively moving each limb.  ‘Good’, I thought, ‘I’m not paralyzed.  At least not right now.’  Then I raised my arms to check my face and head for open wounds and head injuries.  No blood, which was a good sign, though I was pretty sure I had sustained a concussion which meant I needed to stay awake and alert.  Finally, I felt up and down my torso to make sure nothing had been punctured or lacerated.  I knew I hadn’t been stepped on, but was still worried about organ damage and internal bleeding from the blunt force of landing on hard ground.  And of course I checked on my other appendage.  My camera.  It hadn’t stayed in my hand, and must have hit the ground hard, but the lens and body were in tact.  Good enough for now, the rest could be checked later.  I lay  it back in the sand as Will and the guide came rushing over.

I cried out for Will and our guide to turn me over onto my stomach due to the scream-inducing pain radiating from my lower back.  They gingerly rolled me over and pain rippled through my body.  Once on my stomach, however, I felt instant relief from the worst of the agony.  I noticed that three fingers on my right hand were bloodied and covered with sand, but they were the least of my concerns.  It occurred to me then that I needed to keep myself from going into shock, and so I remained hyper-aware of this concern throughout the next hour and a half.  With Will attending to me and the guide pacing the desert with his cell phone, attempting to find find decent reception, I focused all my energy on staying alert and stable.  I knew that water, food, and shade were essential, so Will knelt beside me to shield me from the sun, fed me oranges when I felt faint, and kept me hydrated.  He prayed, kept me from crying, (too much) and did things like check my camera (working!!!) to help my mind stay active.  He was a total rock…the best kind of man to have at one’s side at any time, but especially in a crisis in the middle of nowhere in a foreign land.  Our guide, who’d been unsuccessful in contacting anyone, came back to us and asked if I could get back on the camel and ride to a camp 30 minutes away.  My body and mind balked at the idea, but since we had no idea how long we might be left to wait under the ever-intensifying sun, we all agreed that I should attempt to stand.  The guide and Will helped me to get to my knees, but by this time I was an emotional mess.  As they helped to slowly raise me up, I tried to sing a hymn, but a gut-wrenching sob welled up inside limiting my vocal chords, so instead I clenched my jaw and yelled one particular verse from the Bible over and over again.  The pain was unlike anything I’ve ever endured.  Tears streamed down my face and I cried out to God, repeating Isaiah 50:7 at the top of my lungs.  “Because the Sovereign Lord helps me, I will not be disgraced.  Therefore, I have set my face like a stone, determined to do His will.  And I know that I will not be put to shame.”   By the time they got me mostly vertical I had been on the verge of fainting multiple times.  The pain was too great to stand, and so I lay facedown in the sand, exhausted, and attempted to regain some control over my pain and emotions.  I think this was proof enough to our guide that I COULD NOT get back up on the camel!  After a short while, our guide finally contacted someone and a jeep was sent to recover us.  When I heard the news I was tempted to let go of all the mental control I’d been clinging to, but I was still afraid of going into shock.  Besides, I was going to have to ‘stand’ again to get into the vehicle, and I would need to muster all the strength and will I could to manage the task ahead.  I was terrified of the torment to come, so Will brought me my iPhone and I started filming.  It was a fantastic distraction.  The numerous flies that continued to swarm my bloodied hand, however, were not.

When the jeep arrived, two Bedouins jumped from the driver and passenger seats and began a discussion with Will and our guide over how to hoist me into the vehicle.  I didn’t black out during the process, but the pain was so tremendous that it has taken over the memory  of how I went from a kneeling position (I spent much of my time on the sand in Child’s Pose, a Yoga stretch that put very little pressure on the areas in pain, and also helped me to keep my body from stiffening up as I suspected it might) to a somewhat vertical one.  Once I was partway into the vehicle, I remember laying on my back and looking upwards to see a dark-faced Bedouin hauling me in along the back seat by hooking his arms through mine.  After the doors slammed shut, and Will was seated next to me on the floor of the backseat, I lost it.  We both had been avoiding saying much about how scared we were during and immediately following the accident, but for a few short moments in the jeep we allowed some of our fears to be spoken aloud.  Will had been utterly horrified as there had been nothing he could do to prevent his own camel from potentially trampling me.  I was terrified by the prospect of internal bleeding should there be a pelvic injury as I  knew how fatal the combination of internal bleeding and a pelvic fracture could be.  I was beyond anxious but still trying to avoid panic.  We prayed aloud and in our hearts without ceasing.

The drive to the village of Wadi Rum was jostling at best, but Will helped by keeping my bent knees held together (if my left leg swayed to the left even one inch, pain seared through my left side) and the drivers did their best to pick their way through pot holes and divets, navigating the rough desert ground with expert skill.  Once in Wadi Rum I was shifted again onto a stretcher and put in an ambulance.  I’ve never even SEEN the inside of an ambulance, never mind ridden in one as a patient.  Will stayed by my side and watched out the front window to warn me when we were swerving right or left so I could brace myself for every  turn.  All in all, it took about 3 hours from the time of the fall to the time the ambulance pulled up to the Princess Haya Military Hospital in Aqaba, a resort town on the Red Sea directly across from Israel.  Upon my arrival I began another adventure, one best explained another time as I have probably taken up your entire coffee break!

Though our time in Wadi Rum was shorter and far more eventful than we’d have preferred, we are beyond grateful to have experienced the beauty of the land, the efficiency and help of the Bedouins, and the mercy of God which spared me from further physical trauma.  And I can’t forget the fact that my favourite camera and lens came away unscathed!  Can I get an Amen!!!  Lol…  But seriously, to have come away from that ordeal with only 2 pelvic fractures, (which are likely to heal perfectly and leave no complications) a thankful heart, and a bevy of new friends and experiences…I couldn’t be more blessed.  I can’t wait to post again about the people I’ve met and the generosity we’ve experienced over the past 4 weeks, but like I said, that will have to wait for another time.

Thank you all for your prayers, support, encouragement, practical help and solidarity as we have taken this unexpected journey.  And thanks to my amazing husband for being a good man in a storm.  I thank the Lord for you every day and look forward to more adventures…and a return trip to Jordan!

Jaime

PS Photo Credit for the portrait of me goes to The Good Man in a Storm ;-)

PPS If you want the abridged version, just head over to my YouTube Channel where you can view videos 1 + 2 shot in Wadi Rum while waiting for the jeep.