Another Adventure for the Books

Terence reached the wise age of 50 this month. It's a milestone birthday, and we didn't really do anything for his 40th. (Well, I think we were at Legoland for a family reunion, and I don't think that was exactly what would have topped his list for celebrations.) I am NOT a party or event planner so instead I came up with a plan for us to take a getaway trip to San Diego-- without the kids! (The closest thing we've had to a trip like that was dropping M off at college the first time and spending a night in a hotel alone and making the twelve hour Idaho-Arizona drive in one day.) I had it more or less planned, getting the week reserved in the company Carlsbad house months ahead of time. Terence seemed pleased enough with the plans-- he had a long list of friends from our teenage/young adult years that he wanted to visit. I was very much looking forward to the break, especially if I snuck a little beach time in.

The first wrench in our plan was my surgery, but at first I thought we'd dodged that bullet. Once the date was set for the 10th of May, I was certain by the first week of July I would be fully recovered. Not so. The first disappointment was learning that I would still be on exercise/swimming/baths restrictions (and full pelvic rest, if you know what that means!) during the planned vacation. Seriously?? But I reconciled myself to just taking walks on the beach and spending time with family and friends.  However, once I survived the surgery and started the recovery, I realized that it would be a miracle if I was able to do anything at all. It was taking so long to even be able to sit without agony-- how would I survive the six hour car ride, let alone visiting people?

As the trip drew closer, my body finally started to show some signs of getting with the program. I could take short, slow walks, and even though sitting was still an uncomfortable experience, it wasn't torture. Trip prep was tricky. I couldn't lift anything more than five pounds or even do the laundry myself. The nice part was that I couldn't clean, even if I wanted to, so there was no pressure to leave the house sparkling. The van had been having A/C issues so Terence got it into the mechanic the week before so it would be ready to make the drive. The issues turned out not to be the A/C-- and there were more significant problems than we expected. However, other than needing new tires (which we finagled the day before we were supposed to leave) the mechanic told us we could take the trip and fix things when we got back.

Terence had to work (late, as always) Thursday night so we left later in the morning instead of the crack-of-dawn time he originally planned on. All went smoothly at the beginning-- I drove the first stretch, which was entirely uneventful-- but after Terence took over, we started to notice some issues going up one of the steep grades before heading down into Yuma. In Yuma we hit a parking lot of traffic on the I-8. There had been a road closure for a fire on the side of the freeway. Now, in case you haven't visted Yuma (or even heard of it) it is one of the warmer cities of Arizona, right down at the corner of the state. It was a balmy 114 degrees, and our engine was NOT happy with the stop and go traffic. Eventually (as we learned later) our transmission fluid overheated and every time our van had to shift into second gear the poor thing would jerk terribly. By the time the traffic got moving again Terence was seriously concerned. We stopped in Yuma and Terence found an auto parts store and then started googling our problem. The I-8 stretch after Yuma goes through more scorching desert and then heads up and down a lot of steep grades as you cross the Laguna mountain range. After some (short) discussion (114 degrees sitting in a car that is not running gets unbearable quickly, even with the doors open) we decided that we would take the van back home and drive another car out to San Diego. But as it was about 2pm we decided not to risk travel during the hottest part of the afternoon. Instead, we found the local movie theater and bought tickets for the next available show.

I did not even know there was another Garfield movie in theaters.

Well, it wasn't bad. Not my most favorite movie ever, but I stayed awake, even in a cool, dark room with a reclining padded chair. After it ended we headed back onto the road, and to our relief, the van did not give us any trouble on the way home. We borrowed my dad's truck (thank you, Dad!!) and decided that we would head out the next morning. Early this time!!

Take two was better in some ways and worse in others. We got on the road by 5am, Terence drove the entire time, and we had no car trouble of any kind. However. My not-so-recovered body protested another day in the car. By Yuma (what is it with Yuma??) my back pain was getting bad. I've had some back spasms lately so we'd brought a portable massager, and I spent time using it at the gas station and every time we stopped for a bathroom break. Also, I started coming down with a cold-- my throat was on fire. My body would alternate between chills and getting hot, which has been a problem since the surgery, but it was worse than normal. I huddled under Terence's hoodie for a lot of the drive. Yay.

The view from our room

I was so relieved to get to Carlsbad. The house was beautiful, but I was mostly thrilled to be standing upright and stretching my back. Terence had the full unloading duty so I headed into the kitchen to find the wi-fi password so I could check in with the kids. But while standing at the kitchen island I was suddenly racked with the worst back spasms I have ever felt. I managed to make it to the nearby couch and then just sat in the most horrible upright position. Every time I would try to lean against the couch back I jolted in agony. My abdomen protested the upright position, my back screamed at me, and then massive chills started, making me shake uncontrollably-- which then increased the back spasms.

Remember how I do not have the highest pain tolerance? Pretty soon I was crying, which clogged my nose completely (remember the cold) and then I couldn't breathe on top of everything else. I finally pushed past the agony to send a short text to Terence for help. He hurried in and I'm sure I was a mess. He gave me a priesthood blessing and then helped me upstairs so I could lie down. How I managed the stairs I'll never know. Maybe I had angels on either side.

Once he had me settled in bed, Terence got me some ibuprofen and left in search of some dinner and a heating pad. Between the blessing, the ibuprofen, and the heating pad, I was able to actually sit and eat a sandwich and not die of agony. The chills had died down and the back pain was there but bearable. Nighttime, however, was not very bearable. I found it nearly impossible to sleep between the back pain and the completely stuffed nose. Oh, and the lovely hot flashes that are my nightly visitor nowadays did not help.

What a birthday trip!!! Poor Terence did not get a vacation. It took me until Tuesday to feel even close to functional again. By Wednesday I was even able to enjoy Terence's birthday dinner at a restaurant with friends. Which meant I was physically ready, just in time, to face the drive back home early Thursday morning.

Well. So much for a break.

Happy 50th birthday, anyway, Terence. You are my rock star, and you make 50 look very, very good. Next year I will make it up to you!!