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.