Escaping the jaws of a great white shark, surviving 10 days lost in the bush without food and shelter, recovering from a deadly disease but facing long-term health problems or surviving methanol poisoning only to become permanently blind. When is a lucky escape not so lucky? Watch Insight episode Lucky Escapes on SBS On Demand.
'Why are we sitting in the dark, lads? Could someone turn a light on?'
That's the question I asked my friends as we sat chatting in our hotel room, less than half an hour after checking in, as we continued our once-in-a-lifetime, post-university trip across Southeast Asia.
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Their response surprised me. They told me that not only were we not sitting in the dark, but that the room was actually rather bright.
It was the first sign that my life was about to change forever.
Less than 48 hours before, my friends and I had sat in a hostel bar in the small Laotian town of Vang Vieng, laughing, drinking and playing cards with a couple of people we had met the previous day.
We had spent the afternoon exploring and marvelling at the looming mountains and lush scenery surrounding the town. We ended the day at our hostel bar's daily happy hour, lured by the promise of free drinks.
We knew we had a long day ahead though. The next morning, we were due to leave Laos for Vietnam, a trip that involved a long train ride followed by a 24-hour bus journey. So after visiting a few other bars in the town, we retired to our room early.
I woke up feeling surprisingly fresh. We farewelled our new friends from the hostel and headed to the train station.
The journey was uneventful and we soon arrived in the city of Vientiane, where we caught our bus into Vietnam. The bus was unusual, lined with dozens of bunk beds and equipped with an onboard toilet. As I settled into my uncomfortable bed, I received a message on my phone from one of our friends from the hostel saying it was great to meet us and that she was sure we’d see each other again along the route.
I'll reply to that later, I thought, as a wave of tiredness washed over me — though I never did reply, and the message remains unanswered to this day.
After some time asleep, I went to the toilet, feeling weak and uncoordinated. I clumsily dropped my phone and scrambled around to retrieve it from the dirty bathroom floor.
Eventually, I made my way back to my bed and slept for the next few hours.
I woke abruptly at the Laos-Vietnam border where all passengers were required to leave the bus for passport and visa checks.
As I stepped into the warm afternoon air, my vision was engulfed by a dizzying array of kaleidoscopic lights. Meanwhile, my friend had been violently unwell during most of the journey.
We concluded that our symptoms were likely the result of food poisoning; we’d eaten from a dubious-looking street food stand the night before. Today, that conclusion seems ridiculous but, in that moment, I was unwilling to believe that anything truly serious was happening.
Eventually, with the help of my friends, I was able to pass through border control and get back onto the bus, after which I carried on sleeping.
We arrived in Hanoi later that evening. It was bustling and somewhat chaotic, but I was relieved to find my vision had returned to what I believed to be normal — although I later realised that I was deceived by the evening darkness.
My friends and I quickly got off the bus and got a taxi to our hotel — which brings me back to the hotel room and the question, 'Why are we sitting in the dark?', which will forever remain in my mind.
Given this, and my earlier symptoms, my friends suggested I go to hospital.
I reluctantly agreed but I wasn’t overly concerned.
Firstly, I was in denial about the seriousness of the situation. Also, I later found out that my ability to think rationally was distorted by methanol poisoning.
The alcohol we had drank in Vang Vieng was bootleg — illegally manufactured and distributed in legitimate-looking bottles using methanol, which is far cheaper than ethanol and is indistinguishable by taste, smell or look.
The body converts methanol into formic acid, which can cause vision damage and death, often 12 to 48 hours after drinking.
Sitting in the taxi en route to hospital, my breathing was becoming increasingly laboured. Eventually I could barely catch a breath.
The next few hours in hospital were a blur.
I have fragmented memories of staff demanding proof of medical insurance before providing treatment. Of my vision growing darker. Of my inability to use my phone. Then sitting in the neurologist’s office, completely blind, struggling to answer questions as I fought for breath.
My clearest memory was one sentence repeating itself in my head: 'I cannot believe this is happening.'
I would go on to spend over two weeks in that hospital. Countless blood tests, steroid IV treatments and plasma exchange procedures later, I returned home to the UK accompanied by a paramedic arranged by my insurance company.
From the airport, I was transferred directly to a specialist neurology hospital in London where I would go on to spend the next few weeks, undergoing various treatments as medical staff did everything they could to help me recover my vision.
The months following my discharge were a series of ups and downs that remain unexplained to this day. Around Christmas 2024, I experienced a week-long period when my vision recovered significantly following another round of medical treatments.
However, a week later, it returned to effectively nothing, a phenomenon that baffled my doctors.
Despite this, I remained hopeful that I would see again — though as time passed, this hope began to fade.
These final hopes were eventually crushed in February 2025 when a scan of my optic nerve revealed extensive damage. Doctors told me I would never see again.
I also discovered around this time that the poisoning had not caused brain damage or worse. At the time that offered little solace but is now something I am extremely grateful for.
A few months later, a friend told me various news articles about the incident had been published. I was unaware of this, having spent months isolating myself from the world as I tried to accept my new reality.
As my friend read me an article aloud from his phone, I found it surreal to hear a matter-of-fact recollection of the defining incident of my life.
But everything went from bizarre to chilling when the article detailed those who had died from the poisoning.
As he listed their names, Freja and Ann Sophie, my heart sank. My mind travelled back to that hostel bar as we chatted and played cards with our newly made friends — who had perished after that night.
I'd thought about Freja and Anne-Sophie often in the months after going blind because, although we had only just met, theirs are two of the last faces I saw and will ever see.
[ Australian teenagers Bianca Jones and Holly Morton-Bowles also died in the methanol poisoning event.]
I'd also found myself frequently reminiscing about the joys of my travels. Before everything came brutally crashing down, I'd been having the time of my life.
However, hearing their devastating stories helped me reshape my perspective.
In the first few months after losing my sight, I spent many days staring into the darkness that had become my new reality. Each night, I would dream vividly about regaining my vision and even experienced visual hallucinations while awake — which is common in people who experience sudden sight loss.
I often felt like my life was no longer worth living.
Today, I see things differently. My previous perspective was shaped by grief, not by reality. Visually impaired people across the world live fruitful, ambitious and extraordinary lives every day.
They continue to defy expectations and challenge misguided stereotypes. Every day, I strive to be one of those visually impaired people too.
Over a year on from the incident, with the invaluable support of family, friends and charitable organisations, I am proud to say that I am genuinely excited about what my future holds — something I never thought possible a year ago.
Living as a blind person has its challenges, and I could make a list of the things I miss as long as my arm. But I have learned new skills, met amazing people, and had experiences I could never have imagined.
I have also been given the opportunity to help others by simply sharing my story, and that has given me a new sense of purpose. For all of these reasons, I can honestly say that I am very lucky.
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