We got home from Mexico last Friday afternoon (it is now Tuesday afternoon). By last Wednesday the little chest cold I had mentioned had blossomed into something... more. As in a flaming sore throat, burning ears, throbbing head, and the absence of the will to go on living.
The day before had actually been a great day on the beach for all of us. We had all swam out in the ocean, ate Mexican food under giant umbrellas while surrounded by hundreds of voices we couldn't understand. The kids had wandered down the beach with their grandparents to find bigger waves to jump in. Derrick and I alternated between laying in the sun and sitting in the shade, somewhat peacefully. I couldn't help worry out loud to Derrick that most likely Dave and Kathrine were lying unconscious on the beach somewhere while the kids had most likely been kidnapped. I was patiently awaiting a phone call from their abductors, when I finally spotted them walking back our direction. The kids were beat from playing so hard, and by then I was beginning to understand that my little cold was morphing into something bigger.
We left our little vista by the sea the next day, and after stopping in town for lunch (I laid down in the truck and napped), we headed back to Guzman. I crawled into bed at that point, but the kids got to hang out with their grandparents for the rest of the day. We had planned on going to the big market in Guadalajara the next day before going to the airport, and I woke up planning on being tough for the sake of shopping, but Dave ended up getting horrible food poisoning the night before and needed a bit of extra time to recoupe before heading out. Kloe said she didn't feel so great either, so I tucked away a plastic bag and paper towels into my back pack just in case. These items came in handy the first time she threw up on the plane, but the second time (while we were landing) happened so unexpectedly that I didn't get the bag out in time. Ah, memories.
Fortunately, we had a layover in Houston so we had some recovery time before our next two flights. By the next day Kloe was feeling much better, and I felt like begging someone to please PLEASE just carry me through the airports. When I found out they had changed our flight gate in Denver from 52 to 92 I almost laid down in the middle of the airport and said GAME OVER MAN. For once Kloe was pulling me along and making sure I didn't get lost instead of vice versa.
When we finally made it home, I fell into bed and didn't get up for two and a half days. I laughably tried to go to work yesterday morning, but left after a half hour and went to the doctor where I was diagnosed with bronchitis and two ear infections. And then there were antibiotics. And soon I am predicting wellness and a happy ending.
The day before had actually been a great day on the beach for all of us. We had all swam out in the ocean, ate Mexican food under giant umbrellas while surrounded by hundreds of voices we couldn't understand. The kids had wandered down the beach with their grandparents to find bigger waves to jump in. Derrick and I alternated between laying in the sun and sitting in the shade, somewhat peacefully. I couldn't help worry out loud to Derrick that most likely Dave and Kathrine were lying unconscious on the beach somewhere while the kids had most likely been kidnapped. I was patiently awaiting a phone call from their abductors, when I finally spotted them walking back our direction. The kids were beat from playing so hard, and by then I was beginning to understand that my little cold was morphing into something bigger.
We left our little vista by the sea the next day, and after stopping in town for lunch (I laid down in the truck and napped), we headed back to Guzman. I crawled into bed at that point, but the kids got to hang out with their grandparents for the rest of the day. We had planned on going to the big market in Guadalajara the next day before going to the airport, and I woke up planning on being tough for the sake of shopping, but Dave ended up getting horrible food poisoning the night before and needed a bit of extra time to recoupe before heading out. Kloe said she didn't feel so great either, so I tucked away a plastic bag and paper towels into my back pack just in case. These items came in handy the first time she threw up on the plane, but the second time (while we were landing) happened so unexpectedly that I didn't get the bag out in time. Ah, memories.
Fortunately, we had a layover in Houston so we had some recovery time before our next two flights. By the next day Kloe was feeling much better, and I felt like begging someone to please PLEASE just carry me through the airports. When I found out they had changed our flight gate in Denver from 52 to 92 I almost laid down in the middle of the airport and said GAME OVER MAN. For once Kloe was pulling me along and making sure I didn't get lost instead of vice versa.
When we finally made it home, I fell into bed and didn't get up for two and a half days. I laughably tried to go to work yesterday morning, but left after a half hour and went to the doctor where I was diagnosed with bronchitis and two ear infections. And then there were antibiotics. And soon I am predicting wellness and a happy ending.
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