You thought my stories about Christmas would end? Not a chance!
The next day that we were in GAP, we drove to Austria. For anyone who has never traveled in Europe, it can be a great ordeal to drive from one country to another. While Austria may have some of the best and most well cared for roads in the world, you have to have a special pass for your vehicle to drive on the Autobahn and highways. In GAP, because it's right on the border of Germany and Austria, you can buy these special stickers at any gas station. If you're caught without one of these special sticker passes, you can be fined up the you know what.
That morning we stopped at the gas station to fill up and buy our pass. The resort is literally 5 minutes up the street and my mother in law has to get out to go to the bathroom. Then, everyone leaves me in the car alone. My husband goes inside to pay, J&S went inside so S could use the toilet (which you have to pay for), and then they all come back with food despite the snacks we had in the car ... again. I mean, I guess when in Rome ... at least my husband bought me an apple juice drink that I love called Granini. They make all sorts of flavors of juice drinks, but the apple one is the one I love the most.
This day, I was actually in rather good spirits. On the drive down in to Innsbrueck (which was where we were headed) we saw all sorts of fabulous winter sights that we didn't see the last time we went as it was summer then. The Alps were beautifully covered with snow and surrounded by fluffy clouds, cross country ski tracks were everywhere, and we of course told them the following great story:
In Germany and Austria, it is very VERY popular for vacationers to come from the Netherlands at all times during the year. In fact, the Germans we knew made fun of the Dutch saying they never worked, they were always on holiday. During the winter though, there are HOARDS of Dutch people that flock to the Alps. Yeah, sure people from all over come to ski and stuff, but the Dutch are exceptional. If you know anything about Holland, you know that it's flat - there's no such thing as mountains. So, they like to come down to get their skiing on. The thing is, they are notorious for thinking they know how to ski, but being horrible. They are so horrible at skiing that there are hundreds, if not thousands, of accidents every year related to the Dutch in the Alps. Now, because this region of Austria and Germany is very mountainous, hospitals are few and far between. Also, below freezing temperatures make it difficult to find and rescue accident victims. So, rescue teams have come up with these massive orange helicopters that they fly into the mountains to rescue injured winter sportsmen and women alike. In German, the word for helicopter is the same as in English. The word for the Netherlands however, is very similar: die Niederlands (dee nee-dur-lahndz). The Germans and Austrians love to joke about the Dutch and their horrendous efforts at winter sports, and one thing that they've come up with is called the "Niedercopter." The big orange helicopters that rescue the Dutch ...
We also tell them about our experiences at the Swarovski crystal factory. It's the only factory in the world that they have, and they let the public come in to tour their "museum" and "gift shop." I'd warn you away from it for many reasons, but you'd have to see if for yourself to believe me. Trust me. It's an experience you'll never forget. No, they don't show you crystal mining or making since it's all top secret ... instead you get to see their "museum" and then troll around the huge shop looking at all the crystals and things you can't afford to buy, but can't stop looking at.
When we get in to Innsbrueck, we park in the parking garage not far from the town center - which is where we were headed. They had a mini Christmas market set up, and we all agreed to visit it when we came back that way. We walked around the town looking into shops, admiring shop windows, viewing the hotel where Mozart and his father once stayed, discussing the Goldenendachhaus (Golden roofed house which is really just gold leaf if I recall correctly), and made some small purchases. We went inside the Swarovski store there in the town, and my husband, being the loving and sweet man that he is, purchased these gorgeous earrings that were treble clefs (because I'm a musician) and a matching bracelet with music notes dangling from it. I was shocked - I couldn't believe it. To this day I save them for special occasions, and I still have the bag it came in ... and the free stud they gave him for making a purchase!
Around lunch time we were all starving. We found a cafe that was up a few floors overlooking the town center. We crowded into this corner booth and ordered coffee, hot chocolate, and lunch. S & I decided to be adventurous and order the goulash. By the way, Austrian goulash is delicious. I can't even remember what J or my husband ordered because mine was so good! So, we're sitting there having our lunch and chatting about everything, when S and I notice the people sitting behind J. The man has an arm in a cast and sling (those European ones I told you about). We start whispering to each other and giggling. We were, of course, referencing the Niedercopter story. Granted, we don't even know if this guy is Austrian or German let alone Dutch. My husband leans over and asks what we're giggling about. Our table was U shaped, so J was the only person sitting in front of this couple. Since he was a bit farther away, I started whispering to my husband about the Niedercopter. J gets all interested in what we've all be giggling over and asks what we're laughing about. Of course, we can't say it out loud - every European knows English. They'll know what we're talking about. I say in hushed tones that we'll tell him later. For some reason, he figures out that we're discussing the people behind him, so he turns and steals a peek. Then, turning back to us he says "What? Niedercopter?"
We DIE laughing.
After our delicious lunch, we shopped a little more than went back to the little Christmas market. We looked around at all the traditional items being sold. J's feet were freezing, so we bought him some Alpaca or Sherpa woolen socks that he proceeded to put on in the freezing weather ... quite funny. We saw some delicious local fare and stopped to try it out. They were serving sauerkraut in bread bowls. We all decided to get some and then ate more. I stopped by my favorite little bake shop and got some sweet rolls and goodies for us. Then, we visited the church where Mozart performed. The summer before that we had went there, we saw a wedding outside and took pictures. It's a gorgeous church that is very VERY Rococo. Your eyes might burn with cherubs and drippy, flamboyance but the architecture and marble are beautiful and not to be missed.
On the way back to the car, we stopped at another little street Christmas market. We ordered some Gluehwein which smells like hot whiskey and tastes like hot Nyquil. Odd? Yeah but the great thing is that Gluehwein is pretty much the same anywhere you get it. While we're standing there drinking our hot mulled wine, these 20 something year old guys are having a medieval sword fight behind the booths. It was cracking us up. They were so dramatic ... and in so much trouble. The people working the market kept asking them to stop, to move and to leave. We videotaped some of it. It was a riot watching the little Austrians get all huffy about these boys who weren't even bothering anyone.
All in all, the day was great. We had fun, and I don't remember being grouchy. I think I might have been feeling better that day ... but that should have been a sign of warning of things to come.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Interlude
Some of my readers might know me well, and some maybe not so well or not at all. Whatever the case is, Kienbock's Disease changed me. For the better or the worse, I have no idea.
The last few years with this disease, my outlook on life has become dramatically different. No longer am I an overly optimistic person. I've become pessimistic, sometimes to an extremely annoying point. No longer am I as self-oriented as I was. I am much more giving in my humbling condition. No longer am I as outspoken and driven to attention. I am much more relaxed and subdued ... even quieter. I used to be quite an impatient person and it seems that since the surgeries alone, I've become much more patient and understanding.
I still have my faults, and some of those have become more pronounced with this disease. I acknowledge those, and am working on them. For example, I am quick to anger and irritations. But, I see them more as a challenge now and am surprisingly more adamant to work on them. I was pretty bratty as a teenager, and am still pretty bratty. But, now I can admit to it and find ways to improve.
After all this crap with dead bones, bone sawing, metal plates, scars, pain ... I see myself as someone who can own up to their shortcomings and faults. I take the extra strides to be a better person, a better wife, a better sister and daughter, a better friend. I can take criticism much better than I used to. I still sometimes cry because it's some weird automatic reflex of mine when criticism arises - but I am stronger now. I try not to be so mean or condescending. My goals are simple and achievable.
The last few years with this disease, my outlook on life has become dramatically different. No longer am I an overly optimistic person. I've become pessimistic, sometimes to an extremely annoying point. No longer am I as self-oriented as I was. I am much more giving in my humbling condition. No longer am I as outspoken and driven to attention. I am much more relaxed and subdued ... even quieter. I used to be quite an impatient person and it seems that since the surgeries alone, I've become much more patient and understanding.
I still have my faults, and some of those have become more pronounced with this disease. I acknowledge those, and am working on them. For example, I am quick to anger and irritations. But, I see them more as a challenge now and am surprisingly more adamant to work on them. I was pretty bratty as a teenager, and am still pretty bratty. But, now I can admit to it and find ways to improve.
After all this crap with dead bones, bone sawing, metal plates, scars, pain ... I see myself as someone who can own up to their shortcomings and faults. I take the extra strides to be a better person, a better wife, a better sister and daughter, a better friend. I can take criticism much better than I used to. I still sometimes cry because it's some weird automatic reflex of mine when criticism arises - but I am stronger now. I try not to be so mean or condescending. My goals are simple and achievable.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Christmas Vacation - Part III
It takes about an hour to get from Garmisch-Partenkirchen (GAP) to Schwangau, which is where Hohenschwangau and Neuschwanstein are. Schwan in German means swan. Ludwig's family was very into swans, and they were a symbol of his family. The two castles are completely visible from each other, and are only separated by a small valley where the village lies between with touristy shops, restaurants and such.
We got up super early. It's incredibly difficult to get reservations at the castles, and we had called the week before and they said they were not taking reservations. So, in order for us to make sure that we got tickets into the castles that morning, we had to get to Schwangau first thing.
The snowy roads were thick with fog and the snow kept falling. But, the Germans take such good care of the roads, snow and ice weren't problematic so we made excellent time. While Casey parked and everyone got ready for the morning escapade, I ran to the ticket center and bought 4 tickets for the castles. They give you a time for your tour, and usually they are super close together which can mean disaster if you don't plan ahead - which we did.
I was once again in an incredibly bad mood that day. I think the cold weather was getting to me, my arm was itchy inside the damned cast, and the latest development that was scaring me to death: my fingers started peeling. I mean, this wasn't some dead skin like you get on the bottom of your feet, or after a blister or something. I mean, my regular skin on my diseased arm was cracking, bleeding, and peeling for no reason. I kept it warm, I kept it gloved, I was freaking out. It didn't help that my husband and I had a skirmish that morning and he was rather short with me which made me even nastier. If this disease didn't disable me completely, it definitely ruined my self control. Anyway, I was mad that no one took our tour time seriously. In Germany, they are very obsessed with punctuality. If you miss your time, you pay again for a whole new tour ... and this one had already set us back a steep amount of Euro. Everyone was dawdling at the car, taking their sweet time rather than booking it up to the tour.
There is no easy way to get up to Hohenschwangau other than to hike up the hundreds of steps on the mountainside - at least, that's what it feels like. In the bitter cold, with icy paths, it was worse. I'd been to the castle in summer and fall, but this was a whole new experience. We were slipping and sliding all up the mountain.
In slow seasons, you get personal tours through Hohenschwangau. I was quite pleased at this because usually they throw you an audio guide and shove you through rooms so fast you could blink and miss everything. J&S were very pleased with the tour. At the end, we all went to the bathroom - which meant peeling layers of clothing off including long underwear in a freezing cold bathroom. This time, S was able to help me get all my pants up and all my shirts tucked in and my zipper up and my belt buckled.
We had some time in between tours, so we hit up the gift shop that is just outside the castle, and then walked back down the mountain. We went and stood in line to take horse carriages up the mountain to Neuschwanstein. Our tour was in 40 minutes, and there are only a few carriages, and each one only holds 6 passengers.
I vividly remember this scene. My husband and J are standing at the head of the line. There's a specific spot on the street with a sign that tells you to line up and wait for the horse carriages which take about 15 minutes round trip. S and I are standing on the sidewalk behind my husband and his father when a huge group of British tourists come up in line behind us. When two carriages arrive and we four try to pay the driver before we get in (which is the polite thing to do), all the British tourists shove in front of us, get on the carriages and we're left standing there. Their tour guide is still barking at them as they're driving away, and my husband starts mouthing off to her. "Excuse me, excuse me! We were in line and you just stole our carriages. We have the next tour." The snotty woman refuses to respond to my husband. He keeps mouthing off to her about how rude they are and where the line clearly is, and who clearly should have got in the carriages first. The people behind us start in too. They're on the next tour as well, American vets, and are older. My husband is going on and on, S & I are laughing. It was so unbelievable. Americans get such a bad rap for being awful ambassadors when traveling! Really I tell you, it's the bloody British. AND, to add insult to their grievous injury, they are OBSESSED with lines. If you dare cut in Britain, you're liable to be beat to a pulp. I know, I've been there. They're all about order and rights and such.
When we finally get in a carriage, we're super anxious because our tour was to start quickly. We got in one with the group of older vets behind us and head to our destination: 3/4 of the way up the mountain. We're deposited in the slushy snow and have something like 5 minutes until our tour. We run up the mountain to make it on time ... but the group behind us didn't. I don't know what happened to them but those British tourists should be ashamed of themselves. Stealing carriages from old people with tour times before theirs! Let me just say, this did NOT improve my mood at all.
After the tour, we all hit the bathrooms again, and then the gift shop. Then we spend time dawdling around the outside of the castle taking lots of pictures. I'm grouchy and sniping at everyone every chance I get. Once again, I was not dealing with the pain, the discomfort, or the disease well. It gets worse ...
So, we're on our way home and J & S don't like the food we packed for the trip to save money from eating out all the time. They say they need "substance." Now I'm super pissed. My husband had to stop in the first big town that had restaurants, pay for parking, then take us all to a restaurant that neither he nor J could eat at because it's seafood and they don't like it, and husband is allergic to it. Then, they take their sweet time (again) ordering, that I take the last prepared meal that S decides she wants ... and complains she is starving.
Now, I love my mother-in-law to death, but I'm a post-surgery patient who's dealing with traumatic pain to say the least and the possibility of never feeling my hand or arm again and never using it properly ever again - and she refuses to eat my meal, which is the exact same that she ordered. I become a monster. I completely shut down. When us girls finish our meal, we walk around the corner to a butcher shop and deli (which we all should have gone to in the first place) where my husband and J order food for themselves.
When we got back to the hotel, I was irate but I had schoolwork to complete. The Lodge has a computer lab, so husband and I went down there so he could type up my responses for the week. J&S come down and say they want to go in the hot tub after dinner. I don't want to, but husband says I should go. So we have dinner at the buffet again, and then head to our rooms to change.
I look like an idiot coming out of our room with my swimsuit on over clothes and a big plastic trash bag tied around my arm and tucked into my cast. Can anyone give me a woo-hoo?
I spent around 2 hours in the hot tub with my arm outside propped up on the freezing cement. It was uncomfortable to say the least. But, what bothered me the most was surprisingly the heat. After surgeries like mine, it is typical to experience nerve dysfunction where you cannot tolerate changes in temperature well. To this day, I have this problem. Taking a shower is torture for my arm, but the freezing cold of the day mixed with the piping hot water in the hot tub was just too much for me. Plus, everyone was staring - and they were Americans not Germans so I was NOT okay with it.
Needless to say, I went to bed that night angry beyond repair. I'd had one of the most aggravating and miserable days of my life ... and it was about to get worse.
We got up super early. It's incredibly difficult to get reservations at the castles, and we had called the week before and they said they were not taking reservations. So, in order for us to make sure that we got tickets into the castles that morning, we had to get to Schwangau first thing.
The snowy roads were thick with fog and the snow kept falling. But, the Germans take such good care of the roads, snow and ice weren't problematic so we made excellent time. While Casey parked and everyone got ready for the morning escapade, I ran to the ticket center and bought 4 tickets for the castles. They give you a time for your tour, and usually they are super close together which can mean disaster if you don't plan ahead - which we did.
I was once again in an incredibly bad mood that day. I think the cold weather was getting to me, my arm was itchy inside the damned cast, and the latest development that was scaring me to death: my fingers started peeling. I mean, this wasn't some dead skin like you get on the bottom of your feet, or after a blister or something. I mean, my regular skin on my diseased arm was cracking, bleeding, and peeling for no reason. I kept it warm, I kept it gloved, I was freaking out. It didn't help that my husband and I had a skirmish that morning and he was rather short with me which made me even nastier. If this disease didn't disable me completely, it definitely ruined my self control. Anyway, I was mad that no one took our tour time seriously. In Germany, they are very obsessed with punctuality. If you miss your time, you pay again for a whole new tour ... and this one had already set us back a steep amount of Euro. Everyone was dawdling at the car, taking their sweet time rather than booking it up to the tour.
There is no easy way to get up to Hohenschwangau other than to hike up the hundreds of steps on the mountainside - at least, that's what it feels like. In the bitter cold, with icy paths, it was worse. I'd been to the castle in summer and fall, but this was a whole new experience. We were slipping and sliding all up the mountain.
In slow seasons, you get personal tours through Hohenschwangau. I was quite pleased at this because usually they throw you an audio guide and shove you through rooms so fast you could blink and miss everything. J&S were very pleased with the tour. At the end, we all went to the bathroom - which meant peeling layers of clothing off including long underwear in a freezing cold bathroom. This time, S was able to help me get all my pants up and all my shirts tucked in and my zipper up and my belt buckled.
We had some time in between tours, so we hit up the gift shop that is just outside the castle, and then walked back down the mountain. We went and stood in line to take horse carriages up the mountain to Neuschwanstein. Our tour was in 40 minutes, and there are only a few carriages, and each one only holds 6 passengers.
I vividly remember this scene. My husband and J are standing at the head of the line. There's a specific spot on the street with a sign that tells you to line up and wait for the horse carriages which take about 15 minutes round trip. S and I are standing on the sidewalk behind my husband and his father when a huge group of British tourists come up in line behind us. When two carriages arrive and we four try to pay the driver before we get in (which is the polite thing to do), all the British tourists shove in front of us, get on the carriages and we're left standing there. Their tour guide is still barking at them as they're driving away, and my husband starts mouthing off to her. "Excuse me, excuse me! We were in line and you just stole our carriages. We have the next tour." The snotty woman refuses to respond to my husband. He keeps mouthing off to her about how rude they are and where the line clearly is, and who clearly should have got in the carriages first. The people behind us start in too. They're on the next tour as well, American vets, and are older. My husband is going on and on, S & I are laughing. It was so unbelievable. Americans get such a bad rap for being awful ambassadors when traveling! Really I tell you, it's the bloody British. AND, to add insult to their grievous injury, they are OBSESSED with lines. If you dare cut in Britain, you're liable to be beat to a pulp. I know, I've been there. They're all about order and rights and such.
When we finally get in a carriage, we're super anxious because our tour was to start quickly. We got in one with the group of older vets behind us and head to our destination: 3/4 of the way up the mountain. We're deposited in the slushy snow and have something like 5 minutes until our tour. We run up the mountain to make it on time ... but the group behind us didn't. I don't know what happened to them but those British tourists should be ashamed of themselves. Stealing carriages from old people with tour times before theirs! Let me just say, this did NOT improve my mood at all.
After the tour, we all hit the bathrooms again, and then the gift shop. Then we spend time dawdling around the outside of the castle taking lots of pictures. I'm grouchy and sniping at everyone every chance I get. Once again, I was not dealing with the pain, the discomfort, or the disease well. It gets worse ...
So, we're on our way home and J & S don't like the food we packed for the trip to save money from eating out all the time. They say they need "substance." Now I'm super pissed. My husband had to stop in the first big town that had restaurants, pay for parking, then take us all to a restaurant that neither he nor J could eat at because it's seafood and they don't like it, and husband is allergic to it. Then, they take their sweet time (again) ordering, that I take the last prepared meal that S decides she wants ... and complains she is starving.
Now, I love my mother-in-law to death, but I'm a post-surgery patient who's dealing with traumatic pain to say the least and the possibility of never feeling my hand or arm again and never using it properly ever again - and she refuses to eat my meal, which is the exact same that she ordered. I become a monster. I completely shut down. When us girls finish our meal, we walk around the corner to a butcher shop and deli (which we all should have gone to in the first place) where my husband and J order food for themselves.
When we got back to the hotel, I was irate but I had schoolwork to complete. The Lodge has a computer lab, so husband and I went down there so he could type up my responses for the week. J&S come down and say they want to go in the hot tub after dinner. I don't want to, but husband says I should go. So we have dinner at the buffet again, and then head to our rooms to change.
I look like an idiot coming out of our room with my swimsuit on over clothes and a big plastic trash bag tied around my arm and tucked into my cast. Can anyone give me a woo-hoo?
I spent around 2 hours in the hot tub with my arm outside propped up on the freezing cement. It was uncomfortable to say the least. But, what bothered me the most was surprisingly the heat. After surgeries like mine, it is typical to experience nerve dysfunction where you cannot tolerate changes in temperature well. To this day, I have this problem. Taking a shower is torture for my arm, but the freezing cold of the day mixed with the piping hot water in the hot tub was just too much for me. Plus, everyone was staring - and they were Americans not Germans so I was NOT okay with it.
Needless to say, I went to bed that night angry beyond repair. I'd had one of the most aggravating and miserable days of my life ... and it was about to get worse.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Christmas Vacation - Part II
We left Rothenburg with enough time to get to the resort in Garmisch-Partenkirchen (GAP). They have really weird dinner hours, and we didn't want to have to stop on the road since it was snowing and icy and all that. Besides, dinner out in Germany is an affair, you don't just stop to eat a quick bite unless it's McDonald's.
It was about 3 hours from Rothenburg to GAP. On the way, J & S kept seeing all these signs that tell you where the exits are on the Autobahn. It says "Ausfahrt" before every exit. Basically, you have to read the road signs like a mile before the Ausfahrt sign to know to get off. Anyway, they kept seeing this sign. Finally, one of them asks "Where the hell is Ausfahrt? I keep seeing signs for it and we've been driving a long time. Is it a big city like Berlin or something?"
Okay, I was in a crabby mood, but my husband and I burst out laughing. Americans are so silly - we'd become completely German and couldn't control ourselves. We explained to them that the exit signs aren't like American exit signs. They thought it was particularly funny ... and also that it had the "fart" word in it. They were comparing it to someone with really bad English grammar skills that was trying to say "out fart". They're suckers for cheesy jokes like that. We also taught them the word Auspuff which means exhaust. Though, we tended to use the word to mean fart, so J&S of course loved that one too. They still say it to this day to excuse themselves. I think we'll probably hear it until they die. I can see them annoying nursing home nurses with it ...
Now, Edelweiss Lodge is a big military resort on a NATO base in GAP. You have to be military, a military family member, or have a special pass with your military friend/distant relative. We had gotten J&S a pass before they came because it took weeks to approve, so we rolled right in around 6pm and rushed in. My husband got our hotel rooms all squared away after some problems that nearly sent me through the roof. Basically we had reserved a room we'd had formerly that was quiet, away from the street and had stellar views of the Alps right out the window - and they idiots told us "Oh, you didn't have a reservation for a specific room."
I was livid, but we were all starving so I fumed all the way up to the rooms to throw our stuff on our beds. We got adjacent rooms so it would be easier. Everyone went in their room, took off their coats, ran to the bathroom, and then we all rushed down stairs to the restaurant area. There are two restaurants in the Resort, a snack bar in the fitness/pool center, and a casino with a bar in it. We all decided to eat at the buffet. It was cheaper than the bar or the restaurant (both of which you had to make reservations at) and pigged out as we'd eaten very little the whole day.
I had the worst time with the buffet. My arm was still cast-ified so I had to try carrying a tray around one handed, picking up heavy plates with my left hand, serving myself with my left hand, carrying my heavy tray with my left hand ... it was all very exhausting work. My husband helped me a little, but was of course more concerned about the food going on his plate. I don't know that it bothered me too much then though, I think I was too hungry to care. By the time I had exerted all my energy on getting the food, my tummy was growling.
After dinner we were all tired enough to want to drop off to sleep. We had a big morning ahead as we were going to Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau castles. These are the two fairy tale castles opposite the mountain from each other that everyone knows. Neuschwanstein was built by the last king of Bavaria, the so called mad Ludwig. We were all really REALLY excited to head out right after breakfast, so we all went to bed without much of a fuss.
It was about 3 hours from Rothenburg to GAP. On the way, J & S kept seeing all these signs that tell you where the exits are on the Autobahn. It says "Ausfahrt" before every exit. Basically, you have to read the road signs like a mile before the Ausfahrt sign to know to get off. Anyway, they kept seeing this sign. Finally, one of them asks "Where the hell is Ausfahrt? I keep seeing signs for it and we've been driving a long time. Is it a big city like Berlin or something?"
Okay, I was in a crabby mood, but my husband and I burst out laughing. Americans are so silly - we'd become completely German and couldn't control ourselves. We explained to them that the exit signs aren't like American exit signs. They thought it was particularly funny ... and also that it had the "fart" word in it. They were comparing it to someone with really bad English grammar skills that was trying to say "out fart". They're suckers for cheesy jokes like that. We also taught them the word Auspuff which means exhaust. Though, we tended to use the word to mean fart, so J&S of course loved that one too. They still say it to this day to excuse themselves. I think we'll probably hear it until they die. I can see them annoying nursing home nurses with it ...
Now, Edelweiss Lodge is a big military resort on a NATO base in GAP. You have to be military, a military family member, or have a special pass with your military friend/distant relative. We had gotten J&S a pass before they came because it took weeks to approve, so we rolled right in around 6pm and rushed in. My husband got our hotel rooms all squared away after some problems that nearly sent me through the roof. Basically we had reserved a room we'd had formerly that was quiet, away from the street and had stellar views of the Alps right out the window - and they idiots told us "Oh, you didn't have a reservation for a specific room."
I was livid, but we were all starving so I fumed all the way up to the rooms to throw our stuff on our beds. We got adjacent rooms so it would be easier. Everyone went in their room, took off their coats, ran to the bathroom, and then we all rushed down stairs to the restaurant area. There are two restaurants in the Resort, a snack bar in the fitness/pool center, and a casino with a bar in it. We all decided to eat at the buffet. It was cheaper than the bar or the restaurant (both of which you had to make reservations at) and pigged out as we'd eaten very little the whole day.
I had the worst time with the buffet. My arm was still cast-ified so I had to try carrying a tray around one handed, picking up heavy plates with my left hand, serving myself with my left hand, carrying my heavy tray with my left hand ... it was all very exhausting work. My husband helped me a little, but was of course more concerned about the food going on his plate. I don't know that it bothered me too much then though, I think I was too hungry to care. By the time I had exerted all my energy on getting the food, my tummy was growling.
After dinner we were all tired enough to want to drop off to sleep. We had a big morning ahead as we were going to Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau castles. These are the two fairy tale castles opposite the mountain from each other that everyone knows. Neuschwanstein was built by the last king of Bavaria, the so called mad Ludwig. We were all really REALLY excited to head out right after breakfast, so we all went to bed without much of a fuss.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Christmas Vacation - Part I
The morning after my in-laws arrived, we packed up and headed out for a Christmas vacation. Since my husband was lucky enough to finally get time off, we planned a whole big hoopla for J & S. We had rented a car (ours was acting up and in the shop) and piled it high with our suitcases, bags, and snacks.
We headed out that morning around 7am in order to get to the very famous medieval walled city of Rothenburg ob der Tauber. If you go anywhere in Germany, you're likely to hear about Rothenburg. Its fame makes it incredibly touristy so we decidedly missed the usual rush of spring through fall and went in the winter when it was snowy and perfectly un-crowded. I had been to the city in the summer and in the fall - both seasons were gorgeous. Winter did not disappoint. We went to the famous Jakobskirche - a Lutheran church that is now used primarily for concerts but is famous for its original stalls, altarpiece, and hand-carved wooden alter to the blood of Jesus Christ. It's this amazing work of art that depicts the last supper, all wood and hand carved from the 1400s, and is said to have a stone on the crucifix that holds a drop of Jesus Christ's blood.
Now, I've been to Rothenburg several times and it really is a good value despite what people say. Every time we go there, we go to this church. It's so breathtakingly beautiful that you can't help but sit up at the altar and gaze in amazement that somebody was that talented. J & S of course loved the church. As usual, my husband took a million photos. We have several hundred of this church alone. It might cost 2 Euro per person to get it, but it is totally worth it. Besides, the money goes to the restoration of the church. It was bombed out during World War II and is slowly being restored to its original state. Some things survived like the altar of the holy blood, and the stalls, etc.
After we oohed and aahed in the church, we wandered around the town which has lots of trinket-y shops and little cafes and such. Since it was Christmas, they also had a Christkindlsmarkt - the German term for the traditional Christmas market that is usually found in squares around cities during the month of December. The tradition was started in Germany and Austria, and is big in much of central and western Europe.
Being ill was not pleasant during this outing. We took J & S to the medieval crime and punishment museum - which we've been to many times. I remember feeling the throbbing pain of the metal and the holes in my arm. The entire time we were in the museum, I looked pallid and felt miserable. At least it's a fun museum though. Thumb screws, dunking cages and iron maidens galore await your senses. It's fun to learn about medieval crime and punishment I tell you!
We also visited the famous Kaethe Wohlfahrt Christmas village. It's this famous store - the biggest Christmas store in Europe or something, and they are famous for their ornaments. They're open year round, and you can get some of the most amazing things there. Every year we bought ornaments from Kaethe Wohlfahrt for every family member. J & S LOVED the store. We spent an hour in there dawdling and looking at all the beautiful things to buy. It was really hard for me to be in that store looking back on it. I love to pick things up and handle them in stores. I couldn't even pull the strings on the traditional wooden dancing ornaments. It was disappointing. I'm very hands-on when it comes to many things, and shopping is just no fun with a gimp arm. I think I still enjoyed myself though, and I didn't get too crabby that I remember.
Well, I didn't get too crabby until the bathroom incident. They had a special bathroom set up in the middle of town because the regular public restrooms were blocked by all the market stands. So, we all decide we need to go. I managed to stuff my fat cast arm into my brand new Columbia winter coat. I was decked out that day with long underwear (it was below freezing outside), jeans, boots, gloves, a big fat sweater, a hat and a scarf. And, being Germany, they do not have a disabled restroom. This is common. Disabled persons aren't often out in public because they do not make public areas accessible to disabled persons. It's just a caveat of travel in Europe and it's typical. I go into the bathroom and they're tiny stalls. This means, that even if I needed help, I wouldn't get it. I'd had lots of bathroom mishaps since the surgery, and my husband couldn't be here to help me this time. Great. I take off the glove on my good hand, and leave the other glove that I stretched over my cast. It looks like I have a wooden arm. Seriously. Then, I manage to undo my belt and my pants (both layers) down, and do my business without any problem. When I try to re-suit up, it becomes an issue. I must have been in the stall a good 3 or 4 minutes just trying to get my pants done up and my belt on. No such luck, so I come out of the stall to wash my hand. All these ladies are pushing and shoving around the tiny sinks washing their hands. I just wait until there's a lull, and turn on the water, wash my hand as good as possible, then try to get a paper towel. I'm helpless trying to pull the paper towel out of its holder because I'm not left handed. I'm annoyed and say to the nearest woman "Koennen Sie mich helfen? Ich hab' nur ein Hand," which means "Can you please help me? I only have one hand."
By the time I had gotten out of the bathrooms, I had to ask my mother-in-law to do up my pants and belt. It would be no problem with my mother, but this was not my mother. I didn't feel comfortable having to ask that. Plus, it's kind of degrading to have to ask like a three-year-old for mommy to help you do up your pants. It hurt me. I wanted to be able to do the stuff I always could, that was a "no brainer".
After the bathroom, we went to a small cafe that overlooked the town and had coffee with cakes. I was still bothered. We were eating out in public and I could barely lift my coffee cup without spilling it with my left hand. Also, I had to share a streusel with my husband because it would take me forever to eat my own slice. For as upset as I was, I know I did a really good job of keeping my feelings and anger to myself. We were able to have a good time despite.
While there, we took lots of pictures, bought the famous Schneeballen (snowballs) which are pastry balls with toppings like chocolate or powdered sugar, walked the length of the medieval wall that surrounds the town, and shopped. It was a cold day, but I did the best I could making sure that I was enjoying my experience. After all, it wouldn't be fair to ruin my in-laws' first visit to Europe ever just because I was suffering from post-surgery pain and woes. Depressed as I was, I braved being as normal as possible that day. Soon however, it would catch up to me.
We headed out that morning around 7am in order to get to the very famous medieval walled city of Rothenburg ob der Tauber. If you go anywhere in Germany, you're likely to hear about Rothenburg. Its fame makes it incredibly touristy so we decidedly missed the usual rush of spring through fall and went in the winter when it was snowy and perfectly un-crowded. I had been to the city in the summer and in the fall - both seasons were gorgeous. Winter did not disappoint. We went to the famous Jakobskirche - a Lutheran church that is now used primarily for concerts but is famous for its original stalls, altarpiece, and hand-carved wooden alter to the blood of Jesus Christ. It's this amazing work of art that depicts the last supper, all wood and hand carved from the 1400s, and is said to have a stone on the crucifix that holds a drop of Jesus Christ's blood.
Now, I've been to Rothenburg several times and it really is a good value despite what people say. Every time we go there, we go to this church. It's so breathtakingly beautiful that you can't help but sit up at the altar and gaze in amazement that somebody was that talented. J & S of course loved the church. As usual, my husband took a million photos. We have several hundred of this church alone. It might cost 2 Euro per person to get it, but it is totally worth it. Besides, the money goes to the restoration of the church. It was bombed out during World War II and is slowly being restored to its original state. Some things survived like the altar of the holy blood, and the stalls, etc.
After we oohed and aahed in the church, we wandered around the town which has lots of trinket-y shops and little cafes and such. Since it was Christmas, they also had a Christkindlsmarkt - the German term for the traditional Christmas market that is usually found in squares around cities during the month of December. The tradition was started in Germany and Austria, and is big in much of central and western Europe.
Being ill was not pleasant during this outing. We took J & S to the medieval crime and punishment museum - which we've been to many times. I remember feeling the throbbing pain of the metal and the holes in my arm. The entire time we were in the museum, I looked pallid and felt miserable. At least it's a fun museum though. Thumb screws, dunking cages and iron maidens galore await your senses. It's fun to learn about medieval crime and punishment I tell you!
We also visited the famous Kaethe Wohlfahrt Christmas village. It's this famous store - the biggest Christmas store in Europe or something, and they are famous for their ornaments. They're open year round, and you can get some of the most amazing things there. Every year we bought ornaments from Kaethe Wohlfahrt for every family member. J & S LOVED the store. We spent an hour in there dawdling and looking at all the beautiful things to buy. It was really hard for me to be in that store looking back on it. I love to pick things up and handle them in stores. I couldn't even pull the strings on the traditional wooden dancing ornaments. It was disappointing. I'm very hands-on when it comes to many things, and shopping is just no fun with a gimp arm. I think I still enjoyed myself though, and I didn't get too crabby that I remember.
Well, I didn't get too crabby until the bathroom incident. They had a special bathroom set up in the middle of town because the regular public restrooms were blocked by all the market stands. So, we all decide we need to go. I managed to stuff my fat cast arm into my brand new Columbia winter coat. I was decked out that day with long underwear (it was below freezing outside), jeans, boots, gloves, a big fat sweater, a hat and a scarf. And, being Germany, they do not have a disabled restroom. This is common. Disabled persons aren't often out in public because they do not make public areas accessible to disabled persons. It's just a caveat of travel in Europe and it's typical. I go into the bathroom and they're tiny stalls. This means, that even if I needed help, I wouldn't get it. I'd had lots of bathroom mishaps since the surgery, and my husband couldn't be here to help me this time. Great. I take off the glove on my good hand, and leave the other glove that I stretched over my cast. It looks like I have a wooden arm. Seriously. Then, I manage to undo my belt and my pants (both layers) down, and do my business without any problem. When I try to re-suit up, it becomes an issue. I must have been in the stall a good 3 or 4 minutes just trying to get my pants done up and my belt on. No such luck, so I come out of the stall to wash my hand. All these ladies are pushing and shoving around the tiny sinks washing their hands. I just wait until there's a lull, and turn on the water, wash my hand as good as possible, then try to get a paper towel. I'm helpless trying to pull the paper towel out of its holder because I'm not left handed. I'm annoyed and say to the nearest woman "Koennen Sie mich helfen? Ich hab' nur ein Hand," which means "Can you please help me? I only have one hand."
By the time I had gotten out of the bathrooms, I had to ask my mother-in-law to do up my pants and belt. It would be no problem with my mother, but this was not my mother. I didn't feel comfortable having to ask that. Plus, it's kind of degrading to have to ask like a three-year-old for mommy to help you do up your pants. It hurt me. I wanted to be able to do the stuff I always could, that was a "no brainer".
After the bathroom, we went to a small cafe that overlooked the town and had coffee with cakes. I was still bothered. We were eating out in public and I could barely lift my coffee cup without spilling it with my left hand. Also, I had to share a streusel with my husband because it would take me forever to eat my own slice. For as upset as I was, I know I did a really good job of keeping my feelings and anger to myself. We were able to have a good time despite.
While there, we took lots of pictures, bought the famous Schneeballen (snowballs) which are pastry balls with toppings like chocolate or powdered sugar, walked the length of the medieval wall that surrounds the town, and shopped. It was a cold day, but I did the best I could making sure that I was enjoying my experience. After all, it wouldn't be fair to ruin my in-laws' first visit to Europe ever just because I was suffering from post-surgery pain and woes. Depressed as I was, I braved being as normal as possible that day. Soon however, it would catch up to me.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Special Guests
I had just barely gotten over being incredibly sick and was left with a horrible cold that stayed in my nose when we went to pick up my husband's parents. The Christmas of 2009 was going to be an incredible holiday. My husband had taken 2 weeks off of work and gotten Christmas off, and we were going to spend it with relatives which is something we hadn't done since 2004. Additionally, I had this awesome travel outline where we were going to drive down to the Alps and stay for a few nights, visit Austria and some famous Christmas markets, and see some local sights and eat some delicious food.
The day they flew in, my husband drove us to the airport about an hour early. Frankfurt airport is one of the busiest airports in the world ... and one of the worst layouts with the worst parking. It's not Germany's fault really, it's just that Frankfurt is central to EVERYTHING in Europe, that it's just so convenient. They're working on the infrastructure though, so the DB trains will come through a special station just across from the main terminal. So, we're driving around this huge new structure (which will also include lots of businesses, places to eat, places to stay, etc.) and we successfully found a parking garage with vacancies. This is rare. Anyway, our "Rock star" parking luck was on our side ... right next to the elevator. Like literally, a step away.
It took us about 15-20 minutes to get through the whole airport to where we needed to pick the in-laws up. Frankfurt airport is humongous but there were only 2 international arrival gates where we waited. We waited through 2 plane loads of people while standing up before any space was left vacancy for people to sit. I saw a group of people leave this huge fountain, so I ran over and snagged a spot, took off my coat and laid it next to me. My husband dawdled over but insisted on standing. It was about a 40 minute drive to airport, and it would be 40 minutes back so he needed the standing time.
I don't know how many plane loads of people came out of customs, but I think it was something like 8, and we waited for about an hour and a half. When you arrive at Frankfurt, you have to walk like a mile to get to the international arrivals desk for them to check your passport. Then, you have to wait about 30 minutes for your luggage to even appear on the carriage, and then you have to brave the potentiality of customs ... but, we've never had problems with going through "No Declarations." (Knocking on wood.)
Anyway, by the time J & S (my father- and mother-in-law) came through the door, we'd been at the airport for more than a while. My arm was sore and still swollen. I sat cradling it while my husband kept an eye out for them. I didn't get up until I knew they were through the gate because I didn't want to get jostled. People it Europe are rather pushy and it's acceptable so I just tried to stay clear of the chaos. It worked out pretty good though because they were some of the last people out of the gate rolling some huge luggage, and when I got down off the fountain, I didn't have to worry about being pushed and shoved around.
I was still on a lot of medication for anti-nausea, muscle relaxers (That Dr. R. insisted I take when I went to get the anti-nausea medicine) and of course, about a thousand things for my stupid head cold. I had to blow my nose every 5 minutes so I was also carrying around a box of tissues in my purse. Then, every time I blew my nose, all the skin would get rubbed raw and I had to apply aloe vera lotion after every blow so I didn't look like a burn victim. I probably looked like the mess I felt like. But, at least I felt well enough to go with my husband to get them. We had plans to leave the next morning too. We were going to be headed to the Alps to Garmisch-Partenkirchen (GAP) where we had reserved some rooms in the Edelweiss Lodge - a military only destination on the NATO base in GAP.
It was still morning time when we picked up J & S, so afterwards, we drove to the base in Mannheim because we wanted to get them a special pass so we didn't have to go through the long verification process for guests on the military base every time we wanted to go do something or get something. So, we go to the office, and sit there for about 20 minutes before they tell us that because we don't live on the base, we're not eligible for these ... which are totally ridiculous. We're stationed there, and the base isn't one huge fenced in lot. It's 5 different tiny little fenced in lots around the city! And, I repeat: WE WERE STATIONED THERE! Of course we're going to need to go to the post office or the commissary or the PX or anywhere else! It was totally, insanely, absolutely dumb.
Pissed off, we headed home. My husband and I had gone the day before and gotten the Christmas tree from a little tree farm on the highway to our village. After J & S got somewhat settled with their luggage upstairs in our guest bedroom, we planned what to do for the evening. We wanted to decorate the tree, but we also needed to get supplies for the road tomorrow. It was a 4 hour drive to GAP, and it could be slower due to the snow and ice. Also, we wanted the tree done before we left so it wouldn't blow away in the gusty wind. Living on the mountainside, we'd seen this happen to our neighbors' Christmas trees and it was funny until it happened to you. We didn't want to leave it outside the 5 days we'd be gone. So, we packed up the car and went to get some groceries at the commissary. When we came home, we spent the evening hours listening to Christmas music, rearranging the living room, putting up the tree and decorating it.
With my arm in the condition it was in, I was limited to what I could do to help out with the whole decoration situation. So, I sat on the couch carefully unwrapping ornaments with my left hand and three moveable fingers on the right hand. I tried to carefully put the hooks on the ornaments while my husband, J & S decorated the tree but some of their impatience with my inability to keep up with hooking the ornaments led them to doing it themselves and hastily putting them on the tree. It didn't really annoy me at the time, but as I look back it was something I realize that would happen to me a lot with this disease, and it doesn't make me the happiest person.
After we got the tree decorated and the living room back to order, I had a pain episode. I would get these a lot, but I think that the excitement of the day really got to me. I remember I was sitting on the couch and the next thing I knew I was screaming and crying sprawled across it. Imagine the worst pain in your entire life, and it probably still wouldn't compare. I was used to pain, but the next few months - these episodes would pop up out of the blue and I'd be in so much pain I couldn't breathe or speak. Nothing helped either. It was completely rotten, and I was incapacitated every time this happened.
Thinking back now, it must have been extremely frightening for my in-laws who had almost no idea what was going on. My husband would often turn sheet white and helplessly ask what he could do. I remember my in-laws tried to ignore it at first. They were quiet, but they would talk amongst themselves and continue doing what they were doing. It must have scared them that badly ... and since nothing helped and they knew it, the best thing to do was to not stop and drop everything but to continue with whatever was going on.
Personally, looking back at these episodes, I had no choice but to revert to the most primitive state of humanity when it came to the pain. I couldn't control it, and it would happen often at night when I was most vulnerable and exhausted. I had gotten used to taking naps, and I didn't get one that day and that possibly could have made it worse because I had no strength.
By the time it had subsided it was time for bed. My husband had to finally start sleeping the same bed because we only had one guest bed and our air mattress made his back hurt. I remember being so angry with the whole pain thing that when my husband brought up a load of clean laundry that we had to fold before bed, I started screaming at him over the way he was doing laundry. Basically what had happened is that since the surgery, he was doing most of the housework. He had put in a delicate (yet machine washable) lace tablecloth that was handmade in Italy, in with regular clothes. Some of the hooks on my bras had gotten tangled in the lace. I was pissed off that he wasn't careful with the tablecloth and also that he didn't ask me how to wash it. I know I was mean and harsh.
Every now and then, I'll have moments like these. I can't control everything anymore, and it makes it hard to let go of. Especially when it comes to things I could change the outcome of if people would recognize that even though I can't do something physically, they can still talk to me about it.
I apologized to him the next day, but he told me there was nothing to forgive. He understood my anger and my frustration and I loved him for it.
Having special guests was going to be hard. I hadn't dealt with my inability to use my arm, or the possibility of permanent nerve damage or physical disability. Anger would get the better of me more often than I liked.
The day they flew in, my husband drove us to the airport about an hour early. Frankfurt airport is one of the busiest airports in the world ... and one of the worst layouts with the worst parking. It's not Germany's fault really, it's just that Frankfurt is central to EVERYTHING in Europe, that it's just so convenient. They're working on the infrastructure though, so the DB trains will come through a special station just across from the main terminal. So, we're driving around this huge new structure (which will also include lots of businesses, places to eat, places to stay, etc.) and we successfully found a parking garage with vacancies. This is rare. Anyway, our "Rock star" parking luck was on our side ... right next to the elevator. Like literally, a step away.
It took us about 15-20 minutes to get through the whole airport to where we needed to pick the in-laws up. Frankfurt airport is humongous but there were only 2 international arrival gates where we waited. We waited through 2 plane loads of people while standing up before any space was left vacancy for people to sit. I saw a group of people leave this huge fountain, so I ran over and snagged a spot, took off my coat and laid it next to me. My husband dawdled over but insisted on standing. It was about a 40 minute drive to airport, and it would be 40 minutes back so he needed the standing time.
I don't know how many plane loads of people came out of customs, but I think it was something like 8, and we waited for about an hour and a half. When you arrive at Frankfurt, you have to walk like a mile to get to the international arrivals desk for them to check your passport. Then, you have to wait about 30 minutes for your luggage to even appear on the carriage, and then you have to brave the potentiality of customs ... but, we've never had problems with going through "No Declarations." (Knocking on wood.)
Anyway, by the time J & S (my father- and mother-in-law) came through the door, we'd been at the airport for more than a while. My arm was sore and still swollen. I sat cradling it while my husband kept an eye out for them. I didn't get up until I knew they were through the gate because I didn't want to get jostled. People it Europe are rather pushy and it's acceptable so I just tried to stay clear of the chaos. It worked out pretty good though because they were some of the last people out of the gate rolling some huge luggage, and when I got down off the fountain, I didn't have to worry about being pushed and shoved around.
I was still on a lot of medication for anti-nausea, muscle relaxers (That Dr. R. insisted I take when I went to get the anti-nausea medicine) and of course, about a thousand things for my stupid head cold. I had to blow my nose every 5 minutes so I was also carrying around a box of tissues in my purse. Then, every time I blew my nose, all the skin would get rubbed raw and I had to apply aloe vera lotion after every blow so I didn't look like a burn victim. I probably looked like the mess I felt like. But, at least I felt well enough to go with my husband to get them. We had plans to leave the next morning too. We were going to be headed to the Alps to Garmisch-Partenkirchen (GAP) where we had reserved some rooms in the Edelweiss Lodge - a military only destination on the NATO base in GAP.
It was still morning time when we picked up J & S, so afterwards, we drove to the base in Mannheim because we wanted to get them a special pass so we didn't have to go through the long verification process for guests on the military base every time we wanted to go do something or get something. So, we go to the office, and sit there for about 20 minutes before they tell us that because we don't live on the base, we're not eligible for these ... which are totally ridiculous. We're stationed there, and the base isn't one huge fenced in lot. It's 5 different tiny little fenced in lots around the city! And, I repeat: WE WERE STATIONED THERE! Of course we're going to need to go to the post office or the commissary or the PX or anywhere else! It was totally, insanely, absolutely dumb.
Pissed off, we headed home. My husband and I had gone the day before and gotten the Christmas tree from a little tree farm on the highway to our village. After J & S got somewhat settled with their luggage upstairs in our guest bedroom, we planned what to do for the evening. We wanted to decorate the tree, but we also needed to get supplies for the road tomorrow. It was a 4 hour drive to GAP, and it could be slower due to the snow and ice. Also, we wanted the tree done before we left so it wouldn't blow away in the gusty wind. Living on the mountainside, we'd seen this happen to our neighbors' Christmas trees and it was funny until it happened to you. We didn't want to leave it outside the 5 days we'd be gone. So, we packed up the car and went to get some groceries at the commissary. When we came home, we spent the evening hours listening to Christmas music, rearranging the living room, putting up the tree and decorating it.
With my arm in the condition it was in, I was limited to what I could do to help out with the whole decoration situation. So, I sat on the couch carefully unwrapping ornaments with my left hand and three moveable fingers on the right hand. I tried to carefully put the hooks on the ornaments while my husband, J & S decorated the tree but some of their impatience with my inability to keep up with hooking the ornaments led them to doing it themselves and hastily putting them on the tree. It didn't really annoy me at the time, but as I look back it was something I realize that would happen to me a lot with this disease, and it doesn't make me the happiest person.
After we got the tree decorated and the living room back to order, I had a pain episode. I would get these a lot, but I think that the excitement of the day really got to me. I remember I was sitting on the couch and the next thing I knew I was screaming and crying sprawled across it. Imagine the worst pain in your entire life, and it probably still wouldn't compare. I was used to pain, but the next few months - these episodes would pop up out of the blue and I'd be in so much pain I couldn't breathe or speak. Nothing helped either. It was completely rotten, and I was incapacitated every time this happened.
Thinking back now, it must have been extremely frightening for my in-laws who had almost no idea what was going on. My husband would often turn sheet white and helplessly ask what he could do. I remember my in-laws tried to ignore it at first. They were quiet, but they would talk amongst themselves and continue doing what they were doing. It must have scared them that badly ... and since nothing helped and they knew it, the best thing to do was to not stop and drop everything but to continue with whatever was going on.
Personally, looking back at these episodes, I had no choice but to revert to the most primitive state of humanity when it came to the pain. I couldn't control it, and it would happen often at night when I was most vulnerable and exhausted. I had gotten used to taking naps, and I didn't get one that day and that possibly could have made it worse because I had no strength.
By the time it had subsided it was time for bed. My husband had to finally start sleeping the same bed because we only had one guest bed and our air mattress made his back hurt. I remember being so angry with the whole pain thing that when my husband brought up a load of clean laundry that we had to fold before bed, I started screaming at him over the way he was doing laundry. Basically what had happened is that since the surgery, he was doing most of the housework. He had put in a delicate (yet machine washable) lace tablecloth that was handmade in Italy, in with regular clothes. Some of the hooks on my bras had gotten tangled in the lace. I was pissed off that he wasn't careful with the tablecloth and also that he didn't ask me how to wash it. I know I was mean and harsh.
Every now and then, I'll have moments like these. I can't control everything anymore, and it makes it hard to let go of. Especially when it comes to things I could change the outcome of if people would recognize that even though I can't do something physically, they can still talk to me about it.
I apologized to him the next day, but he told me there was nothing to forgive. He understood my anger and my frustration and I loved him for it.
Having special guests was going to be hard. I hadn't dealt with my inability to use my arm, or the possibility of permanent nerve damage or physical disability. Anger would get the better of me more often than I liked.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Castie
My husband and I had been planning for months to fly his parents to Germany. See, years and years ago they were kind enough to help us out with our wedding granting us a small sum of cash on which we modestly married. We thought it would be kind to repay their loving favor by giving them a vacation of a lifetime. We bought their plane tickets, sent them packing lists, mad a budget with them, and planned the entire vacation which would be roughly 3 weeks long.
Well, we obviously had to plan my surgery around this vacation. Believe it or not, I had my surgery 2 1/2 weeks before they arrived. I was still entirely miserable and recovery was going hard and things just kept getting worse.
Three days before we were to pick up my in-laws, my husband took me to Dr. P.'s office to get a cast. The girls putting on my cast didn't speak hardly any English, so I was relegated to the duty to notify her if the casting was too tight or too loose. Those words were 'eng' and 'weit'. Putting on the cast wasn't easy. It kept getting too tight, so she'd have to loosen the material and cotton and start over. I didn't get a choice in color (like you would expect in America) so I had this basic blue clunker which I dubbed castie.
It was actually much easier to bathe with castie since all we had to do was tie plastic bags around my arm and tuck them in really tight so the cast wouldn't get wet. Of course, my husband still had to do all the washing but I started to help more now that I wasn't holding up the rubber arm.
The day before my in-laws hit the Frankfurt tarmac, I came down with a vicious fever. I have never had a fever like this in my life. I was doing my usual afternoon routine of lying on the couch and watching a movie when it really hit. I'd been feeling terrible all morning, and when my husband came home, I migrated from the bedroom to the couch with all my fluffy German pillows and down comforters. It's a Friday afternoon and I didn't have any obligations as I had already finished my schoolwork and I had canceled giving piano lessons until January.
It was around lunch time when I began to feel like I was in a sauna. We had huge windows in our living room, but it wasn't really a sunny day and it was December in an area on the same latitude as Calgary, Canada. Needless to say it was cold and there was snow on the ground. Our ambient floor heating never worked very well, so I knew something was wrong.
Of course, being the worrywart I've always been, I began to imagine something was terribly wrong with my arm. I have metal allergies, what if my body was rejecting the titanium? What if I have an infection? I realized by 3pm that day I had spent 8 hours unable to breathe and in an intense feverish state. I began to panic. I couldn't swallow, I couldn't eat, I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't get cool enough even after I opened up the windows to the winter air. I debated for about an hour whether or not to call the lady who lived a few blocks away who brought her children for lessons every Monday afternoon. I finally had to decide against calling her because I wasn't sure if this was an emergency, and she would be out at the Heidelberg Kaserne (military post) picking her kids up from school.
At 3pm I gave up and woke my husband up. I told him I'd tried to get my fever down but I didn't know if there was something wrong with my arm. My temperature kept reading 107 degrees and I wasn't able to breathe or swallow. He checked me out for himself and decided that we should go to the emergency clinic at the Heidelberg American hospital.
Well, that stupid castie got in the way for sure. We sped as fast as we could on the Autobahn to get to the hospital in time for the emergency clinic to see me before they closed. We told the doctors I'd just had surgery and that I was suffering symptoms similar to what I was told to watch for when it came to infections. Now, I know I was delirious. I was really on another planet. I was horrified to find out that after telling them about my 107 degree fever that had already lasted 8 hours was only a really bad flu. I think they wanted to laugh at me.
Fabulous.
I really thought something was really wrong. But, they kept assuring me that it was better safe than sorry. Then, they tried to send me away. I sat in the waiting room while they were trying to release me in absolute discomfort. I was pale, shaky; I couldn't breathe and couldn't stay warm or cool enough. A nurse came out to check on me about 30 minutes later and said that I was much too miserable to send home in the state I was in.
Thank God!
They took me back again and I told them I wasn't able to eat or drink anything all day because I was so miserable and that I'd had the fever all morning. They put me on a saline drip, drugged me up with Motrin, Tylenol and Sudafed, and then let me sit through 2 liters of saline before they sent me home with a bunch of medicine to keep me fever free.
Of course, the entire time I was at the hospital, my husband was hanging over a chair passed out. Since there weren't any other serious patients at the hospital, one of the nurses rolled a bed over by mine and let my husband sleep on it. He got about an hour of sleep which was really nice of the nurse to allow him. I made them check me for bronchitis before we left because I had just recovered recently from a bad bronchial infection that lasted 3 months, and with my family's history of severe bronchitis, I wanted to be safe.
I don't know what to think about this hospital visit really, because I was so delirious. I don't even know if I'm remembering it correctly. I do know, however, that I was scared out of my mind. I've had family members with MRSA infections, so I know the severity or infection and contamination. It's frightening to think that if something had gone wrong; my arm could have gone gangrenous. I'm lucky in many ways, but I think the flu that day was the best diagnosis I'd had that year.
Well, we obviously had to plan my surgery around this vacation. Believe it or not, I had my surgery 2 1/2 weeks before they arrived. I was still entirely miserable and recovery was going hard and things just kept getting worse.
Three days before we were to pick up my in-laws, my husband took me to Dr. P.'s office to get a cast. The girls putting on my cast didn't speak hardly any English, so I was relegated to the duty to notify her if the casting was too tight or too loose. Those words were 'eng' and 'weit'. Putting on the cast wasn't easy. It kept getting too tight, so she'd have to loosen the material and cotton and start over. I didn't get a choice in color (like you would expect in America) so I had this basic blue clunker which I dubbed castie.
It was actually much easier to bathe with castie since all we had to do was tie plastic bags around my arm and tuck them in really tight so the cast wouldn't get wet. Of course, my husband still had to do all the washing but I started to help more now that I wasn't holding up the rubber arm.
The day before my in-laws hit the Frankfurt tarmac, I came down with a vicious fever. I have never had a fever like this in my life. I was doing my usual afternoon routine of lying on the couch and watching a movie when it really hit. I'd been feeling terrible all morning, and when my husband came home, I migrated from the bedroom to the couch with all my fluffy German pillows and down comforters. It's a Friday afternoon and I didn't have any obligations as I had already finished my schoolwork and I had canceled giving piano lessons until January.
It was around lunch time when I began to feel like I was in a sauna. We had huge windows in our living room, but it wasn't really a sunny day and it was December in an area on the same latitude as Calgary, Canada. Needless to say it was cold and there was snow on the ground. Our ambient floor heating never worked very well, so I knew something was wrong.
Of course, being the worrywart I've always been, I began to imagine something was terribly wrong with my arm. I have metal allergies, what if my body was rejecting the titanium? What if I have an infection? I realized by 3pm that day I had spent 8 hours unable to breathe and in an intense feverish state. I began to panic. I couldn't swallow, I couldn't eat, I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't get cool enough even after I opened up the windows to the winter air. I debated for about an hour whether or not to call the lady who lived a few blocks away who brought her children for lessons every Monday afternoon. I finally had to decide against calling her because I wasn't sure if this was an emergency, and she would be out at the Heidelberg Kaserne (military post) picking her kids up from school.
At 3pm I gave up and woke my husband up. I told him I'd tried to get my fever down but I didn't know if there was something wrong with my arm. My temperature kept reading 107 degrees and I wasn't able to breathe or swallow. He checked me out for himself and decided that we should go to the emergency clinic at the Heidelberg American hospital.
Well, that stupid castie got in the way for sure. We sped as fast as we could on the Autobahn to get to the hospital in time for the emergency clinic to see me before they closed. We told the doctors I'd just had surgery and that I was suffering symptoms similar to what I was told to watch for when it came to infections. Now, I know I was delirious. I was really on another planet. I was horrified to find out that after telling them about my 107 degree fever that had already lasted 8 hours was only a really bad flu. I think they wanted to laugh at me.
Fabulous.
I really thought something was really wrong. But, they kept assuring me that it was better safe than sorry. Then, they tried to send me away. I sat in the waiting room while they were trying to release me in absolute discomfort. I was pale, shaky; I couldn't breathe and couldn't stay warm or cool enough. A nurse came out to check on me about 30 minutes later and said that I was much too miserable to send home in the state I was in.
Thank God!
They took me back again and I told them I wasn't able to eat or drink anything all day because I was so miserable and that I'd had the fever all morning. They put me on a saline drip, drugged me up with Motrin, Tylenol and Sudafed, and then let me sit through 2 liters of saline before they sent me home with a bunch of medicine to keep me fever free.
Of course, the entire time I was at the hospital, my husband was hanging over a chair passed out. Since there weren't any other serious patients at the hospital, one of the nurses rolled a bed over by mine and let my husband sleep on it. He got about an hour of sleep which was really nice of the nurse to allow him. I made them check me for bronchitis before we left because I had just recovered recently from a bad bronchial infection that lasted 3 months, and with my family's history of severe bronchitis, I wanted to be safe.
I don't know what to think about this hospital visit really, because I was so delirious. I don't even know if I'm remembering it correctly. I do know, however, that I was scared out of my mind. I've had family members with MRSA infections, so I know the severity or infection and contamination. It's frightening to think that if something had gone wrong; my arm could have gone gangrenous. I'm lucky in many ways, but I think the flu that day was the best diagnosis I'd had that year.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)