NYR 3-31-11 - NEW eyes!.

Me as Super Fly with Mac for back-up support


Today was Surgery Day and I was sooooo nervous. But having paid the fee the day before and not being one to lose a significant amount of money because of nerves, I had to go through with the procedure.

Jimmy took me to the surgery center at 8am for surgery that was supposed to start at 8:45. I had barely checked in when they told me to take off my jewelry and leave it with Jimmy and come on back. This was a good thing because there was no time to sit around and think about the lasers that were getting ready to burn my corneas up.

I realized very quickly that this was more serious than I expected. They made me change into scrubs, complete with that hairnet thing and booties to cover my feet. They'd said to wear comfortable clothes and so I assumed I'd just stay in my clothes and not actually look like I was going into surgery. (As a side note, the scrubs were very comfortable and pretty high-quality and I kind of wished they'd let me take them home.)

Next step was getting all these eye drops put in my eyes. Some were topical anesthetic (to which I said "double up the dose please") and some were antibiotic (or at least that's what I think she said). They took my blood pressure, which must have been normal despite the fact that I honestly felt like I couldn't breathe.

Then they escorted me back to the operating room. I saw Dr. A scrubbing in outside the room, just like he was on an episode of ER. He even had that little surgical hat thing on that George Clooney always wore and ripped off his head when something went wrong in the ER.

Where I got the idea that I was just going to be in street clothes, sitting in a opthalmaologist's chair, with Dr. A in his suit, wielding what looked like a dental pick, lasering up my eyes, I REALLY HAVE NO IDEA. None of what I saw looked like anything in my surgical daydreams.

This room was SERIOUS BUSINESS.

Like very medical and sterile and high-tech.

I asked before going in if I could listen to my iPod (on low volume, of course) because I really thought some Enya would relax me and I could practice deep breathing as if I were in a yoga class. (I'd already asked if I could take a Valium and Dr. A said no to that.) The nurse said no to the music, but assured me that I wouldn't need the music because they play ambient music in the operating room.

Let me tell you there was no Enya playing. It was this very futuristic, Star Wars sort of music that made me feel like I was in a science fiction movie.

I had to lay on this table with my head nestled into one of those things that you put in a baby's crib to keep him from rolling over in his sleep.

The instructions were simple: all I had to do was focus on the red blinking light, which was in the robot-like thing stationed over my head. If I had lifted my head up quickly, I would have busted my forehead open. I.WAS.TRAPPED.

Dr. A is so soothing and confident and keeps telling you that you're doing great and that everything's going perfectly that you feel a sense of peace.

But then he tapes your eyelashes open and puts this separator in your eye so it can't close or blink. And you know you're really trapped. And that your eyeball is getting ready to be burned. And that if you try to escape, you will likely require stitches in your forehead or at least have a bloody nose. And your eyeballs will be burned forever by the laser striking the wrong part because you moved.

You feel pressure on your eyeball, the laser starts, you smell burning, the blinking red light is suddenly splayed into a million blinking red lights and you think at that moment that your cornea is cut open, you stay very still then because you don't want to ruin anything at this critical moment, Dr. A dries out your eye, you feel him poking around the center of your eyeball and assume he's pressing it closed (or whatever you do to get that corneal flap to stay shut), and then he announces that one eye is done.

It seemed like it had hardly even started.

The second eye goes as smoothly and painlessly.

Dr. A announces that the surgery is all over and has gone perfectly. Your eyelids are taped shut, you get mini cups taped over your eyes for protection which means you can see nothing, and you realize how terribly awful it will be to be blind and you pray possibly harder than you've ever prayed for anything in your life that you're not blind when Dr. A takes off the bandages this afternoon. Your blood pressure is checked again and it must still be normal because they say you can leave. You're escorted to the dressing room where Jimmy helps you get dressed in your clothes because sadly they don't let you keep the scrubs. And then they send you home.

Just like that.

Not 10 minutes after the surgery is over, you're being led like a blind person to the car and you vow to yourself to give money to every blind panhandler you ever see again in the future. Being blind stinks.

You come home, lay on the couch for hours and doze off and on with the Food Network on in the background. You know that time is passing only because every time you wake up, you hear a new host's voice. Ruth keeps checking on you and keeps layering blankets on top of your slumbering body until you are not only blind but trapped under pounds of wool.

Finally it's time to go back to the doctor's office to get the bandages off for the moment of truth.

Jimmy came back from work to escort me to the doctor's office and since he didn't know where the entrance to the building was and he didn't understand my blind girl hand directions, we went all the way around the building for absolutely no reason. I learn quickly that wasted steps are a terrible thing to a blind person. And I know people are staring at my cupped eyes and wondering what terrible fate struck me. Which makes me even more self-conscious.

We entered Dr. A's office, he removed the patches, and I.COULD.SEE.

Like I could read his Emory University diploma from across the room.

What a miracle. What a marvel of modern medicine.

For renewed good eyesight and the kind, caring demeanor of a lovely doctor, I am truly thankful.

NYR 3-30-11 - glad to be home

For flights that worked, for a successful pre-op doctor's appointment and for sleeping in my own bed, I am truly thankful.

NYR 3-29-11 - great haircuts and fast cars

Before our trip started, I rented us two cars. Jimmy was to drive this teeny little rental from his Thursday night arrival until Saturday afternoon. I had rented a slightly bigger car for Mac and me to pick up on Friday night and keep through our departure on Monday morning.

Jimmy got to the airport rental counter and the Budget guy saw a sucker in front of him. He said that they had a brand new Mustang in the lot and he'd rent it to Jimmy for just a little bit of an upsell.

Right.

Jimmy bought it hook, line, and sinker and paid the upcharge because he "is 40 years old and has never driven a Mustang before".

Jimmy cancelled my rental car and extended the Mustang rental through Monday, which turned to Tuesday, which turned to Wednesday. Needless to say, we made a car payment for a 6-day Mustang rental. But it was fun to drive, even if it looks like a mid-life crisis car.

Did I mention it was red?

And still had the paper tags on it?

And it only had 300 miles on it when he got it?

Can you say MID-LIFE CRISIS?

So while we got to drive a fancy car for a long time during this extended vacation, there was one major disappointment for me in all the discombobulation: my haircut appointment with my fabulous hairdresser, Luanne, was cancelled. Luanne doesn't normally work on Saturdays but she'd graciously ofered to come in and cut my hair at 9am on Saturday morning. I got that appointment cancelled on Friday afternoon in Bogota when I wasn't sure whether we'd make it to CHS by Saturday morning. I hated the idea of her getting up early and coming in on her day off just to find out that I was stuck in Miami.

The salon is closed on Sunday and Monday, so there was no way to reschedule since we were supposed to leave at 6:15am on Tuesday morning.

The singular bright, shining benefit of the Tuesday flight cancellation is that I got my haircut on Tuesday afternoon. I was soooo happy that Luanne fit me in. The stress of the trip was almost erased by those 40 minutes in the salon chair.

So for fast cars and great haircuts (and the best hairdresser ever), I am truly thankful.

NYR 3-28-11 - another day, another dollar (spent)

When the outbound trip got so bungled, we decided we'd spend an extra day in SC to make up for the day we lost in Miami. So today, Jimmy spent the day with his mom and Mac, and my mom and I went shopping and out for lunch.

While we were eating lunch, Mom's cell phone rang. She wasn't going to answer it because it was an unknown 800 number, but I insisted.

Turns out it was an American Airlines automated call, telling us that our new flight on Tuesday was cancelled but that we were confirmed for flights on Wednesday.

Are.you.kidding.me?

We came home and I called American to see if we could be re-routed any other way. I got one of the three nice people who work for American Airlines on the phone. She checked all our alternatives (even flying from New York to Lima to Bogota), but everything was booked solid because there were so many people from the past few days already rebooked on these flights.

I had to send Mac's teacher an email to tell him that we were stuck and to please not let them kick Mac out of school because of unexcused absences.

And since we didn't have to go to bed early to get up at the crack of dawn for an early Tuesday morning flight, Mac went back to Jimmy's mom's to spend the night and Jimmy, Mom, and I went to see "The Adjustment Bureau" and to eat wings at The Kickin' Chicken.

For some QT with my mom and for a night at the movies, I'm truly thankful.

NYR 3-27-11 - shopping and eating!

Today, I shopped and ate lots and it was all wonderful. We caught up with family and celebrated early birthdays at Wasabi, and that, too, was wonderful.

I'm not really a negative person (contrary to how these posts are sounding), but the weather in the lowcountry was really just another indication of how ill-fated this trip really was. The week before, it was in the 70s and sunny, but our weekend weather? Rainy and in the 40s. Really glad that the one weekend in 8 months that we came home, the weather was worse at home than in Bogota!

YAY for us again.

For good deals and good food and good family, I am truly thankful.

NYR 3-26-11 - another travel day

Mac and I woke up, ate breakfast at the Holiday Inn Express Boca Raton WEST, and headed out in another $140 taxi to the Miami airport.

I've gotten used to very cheap taxis in Bogota, so to me, $140 in a taxi should have really taken me almost to the Georgia border.

After getting the taxi driver to stop at an ATM for more money, we made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare.

We found a nice American agent who assured us the flight was confirmed and that our luggage was the appropriate size for carry-on (DUH!), and we found our way to the gate.

Because the plane was a little plane, we loaded a bus which took us out to the tarmac to get on our plane.

Except that when the bus parked by the plane, the bus driver told us we needed to wait on the plane because there was a maintenance issue. It might take 10 minutes or 1 hour. If it was a 10-minute fix, we'd get right on the plane, but if it was a 1-hour fix, we'd go back to the terminal to wait.

At this point, I was muttering the Serenity Prayer.

Turns out it was a 10-minute fix and we loaded the plane.

As we were preparing for take-off, the flight attendant announced that due to the fuel situation, we had to stop in Ft. Myers to re-fuel because the plane didn't have enough gas to get us all the way to Charleston.

At this point, my poor sweet Mac rubbed my arm and said "it's going to be okay, Moma" so I wouldn't start crying again. Poor kid.

We took off and landed 25 minutes later in Ft. Myers (and as we landed, I could see the beach and it was so beautiful that I was tempted to stay right there). We ended up getting to Charleston around 3:45pm.

Mac went off for a night with his cousins, and Jimmy and I went off to Charleston for a night with friends. I'm sure I didn't enjoy the evening as much as I should have because I was so tired and emotionally spent.

But for being back home for the first time in eight months, I am truly thankful.

NYR 3-25-11 - the trip that didn't want to be

So today was the major unveiling of the surprise for Mac. We were all going to spend the weekend in Moncks Corner and Mac had no idea. Jimmy left on Thursday night for what Mac thought was a normal business trip and we were following on Friday.

The office driver came to get me at 10am as planned and then we were going to school to pick up Mac and head straight to the aiport.

Except that I got in the car and the driver told me the flight had been cancelled.

So I cried.

And then I re-grouped.

The office magic-worker, officially an "expeditor", was already at the airport to get us checked in and get our boarding passes, and so he was the first to find out that the flight was cancelled.

We knew on Thursday that a big fuel facility at the Miami airport had blown up. But Jimmy's flights went off without a hitch and quite frankly, I never gave that jet fuel fire another thought.

Apparently that jet fuel fire wreaked havoc, though, and created an enormous shortage of fuel for the airport. Our American Airlines plane wasn't able to fly out on Thursday afternoon to spend the night at the Bogota airport to rest up for our Friday morning flight. No airplane = no way to fly to Miami on American Airlines.

So before we left the apartment building driveway, the expeditor and I had both gotten confirmation that we could fly to Miami on LAN. The connection would be very tight but we weren't checking bags, so we were assured we could make the connection to Charleston.

We drove out to Mac's school, I told his teacher what we were doing and I went out to find Mac on the playground. He was very confused as to why I was there and even more confused when I told him we were leaving school and going on a little trip. He wanted to get his backpack and violin but I told him we were leaving them behind.

We started out for the airport, and while my intention had been not to tell him where we were going until he figured it out, I wasn't entirely confident we were going to end up where we were supposed to end up. When he asked for the 12th time where we were going, I told him we were flying on LAN. We've only flown LAN to Argentina, so he automatically guessed that we were going to Buenos Aires.

WRONG. (Although in hindsight, maybe that's where we should have gone!)

I asked him where else LAN flew and he answered "the United States". I then asked him where he'd rather go in the United States more than anything, and he answered "home". I told him we were going home and his eyes immediately got red and watery, so to save face in a good show of maleness, he put his headphones on and looked out the window (but I could see him wiping his eyes).

We arrived at the airport, met the expeditor in the LAN line and made our way up to the counter to get our boarding passes. This is when I knew the trip was ill-fated. We came face to face with the meanest airport agent I've ever met (and I've met A LOT!).

For the first time ever in my life, I'd packed everything we needed into two carry-on bags. We are talking bare minimum. No extras, no "what-if" contingency clothes. I had measured these bags and knew they were within the 45" limit to be considered carry-on for American. There could be no question as to whether these were legal carry-ons.

And then we met the most heinous, meanest agent ever (thanks LAN for that great HR decision) who said the plane was full and that we had to check one of the bags. I told her we had two tickets and were entitled to two carry-on bags. I begged and pleaded and told her that with the change in flight, our once-long layover was down to one hour and 15 minutes and we wouldn't have time to wait for a checked bag. She told me that was American's problem and not hers and that we were only going to be able to carry on one bag so pick which one we wanted to check. I cried to no avail. Ultimately I checked a bag, knowing that unless a miracle happened, we wouldn't make the connection.

And alas, the universe must have been fresh out of miracles on Friday night because we missed the connection.

We got to Miami, cleared Immigration and would have had time to make the connection had we not had to wait 35 minutes for that little bag to come out. Ours was the last bag to exit the plane.

Coincidence? I think not.

I think that mean woman at the LAN counter put a note on it that said to put it in the darkest, deepest part of the luggage hold so it would be the last one to come out.

With our bags, Mac and I took off at a sprint. But we had 12 minutes from the time we got the bag to the time the plane was supposed to take off to go back through security and make our way to the boarding gate. We gave it our best shot. We ran, hitched a ride on one of those airport carts and made it to the gate at 9:18 for a flight that departed at 9:15. (More tears ensued.)

Our next encounter was with a very surly American agent with whom we tried to re-book. The next flight to Charleston was the next afternoon at 1pm so I tried to get a connection to Columbia or Charlotte or anywhere remotely close, but was told that everything was already booked up because there had been so many flight cancellations due to the fuel shortage.

Before we re-booked anything and because my mind was shot and very discombobulated, I decided I needed to talk to Jimmy or my mom. I no longer have a US-based cell phone so we went to a pay phone bank. Do you remember pay phones? Well you should put them out of your mind from here on out because they don't work. I tried to place a collect call to my mom and Jimmy's mom, but their phones don't accept collect calls anymore. I tried to tell the AT&T man that I was sure my mother would accept a collect call from me, but he said her number was blocked against collect calls. I didn't have any US money on me at that point so we had to then find a bank machine, get money, go to a store, and buy a $4 bottle of water so I could get some quarters in change. We went back to the phone bank and the stupid change slot was blocked. I could not get the money to go into the phone to make a pay call.

Now on the plane from Bogota to Miami, Mac and I had discussed the possibility that we might not make the connection and we decided (knowing that we wouldn't get to SC until the next afternoon which would mean we'd have about 36 non-sleeping hours there) that if we didn't make the Friday night connection, we'd blow off SC and go to Disneyworld for 2 days. We even decided we'd spend one day in the Magic Kingdom and one day in Epcot. So I was ready to blow off this snide woman at the American counter and find a rental car to drive to Orlando, but when push came to shove, Mac got upset and said he really wanted to go to SC. So then I had to go back to that mean woman to re-book us on the 1pm flight to Charleston the next afternoon.

After we'd re-booked, I asked her if I could get a hotel voucher from American. She informed me that they were all out of those because they'd had so many stranded passengers. She went on to tell me that there were no hotel rooms available in the Miami area because there were so many stranded passengers. I asked her where I was supposed to spend the night and she said she didn't know, that that was my problem. (Thanks, American Airlines, for that great HR decision.)

I then asked her if there was Wi-Fi anywhere in the airport so I could at least send emails to people to tell them what was going on and to try and find a hotel room. She informed me that the Admirals Club had Wi-Fi. I told her that I didn't have an Admirals Club membership and could she give me a pass. She told me I could buy one. (A big fat double thanks, American, on your employee-of-the-year hiring decision.)

It might have been at this point that I wanted to jump over the counter and hit her. I'm not sure because the flashbacks of wanting to throttle somebody on this trip are so numerous.

I cried (again) and told her I just wanted a little help. She - in a very surly voice - told me that she was trying to help me. Wow, don't do me any favors, lady.

We then set off for the Admirals Club where I intended to cry my way in. Mac asked me on the walk there to please stop crying because I was embarrassing him. Whatever.

Once we got to the Admirals Club, I found the only sympathetic person I met on the whole outbound trip. I blubbered through telling this woman that we were stranded, I couldn't use the pay phones and needed internet access and could we please use a computer. She said without hesitation "of course" and then called upstairs to tell them that a "very upset lady" was coming upstairs. (She was very discreet in her whispering, but I heard her!)

We used the computer and found no hotels in the greater Miami area. I also emailed Jimmy, my mom and Jimmy's mom. Jimmy was with friends and they managed to find us a hotel room in Boca Raton. I don't know southern Florida very well at all, and I assumed Boca was just around the corner from the airport. Had I known how far away it really was, we probably would have just crashed in the Admirals Club for the night (which was staying open all night due to all the cancellations). But I really felt like we had a big "X" on our backs since we'd crashed the club and I kept waiting for somebody to come escort us impostors out. Plus I was sweaty from all that running and the idea of a hotel sounded great so I could take a nice, long shower.

Once we got all our communications taken care of, we went to the taxi stand to catch our $140 taxi to Boca.

Yes, you read that correctly.

140 smackers.

To spend the night at a not-so-nice Holiday Inn Express.

That was in Boca Raton WEST.

West being the key word to indicate that the beach is nowhere nearby.

Yay for us!

When I was thinking about what I'd write for this day's "attitude of gratitude" entry, I have to tell you there wasn't a whole lot that I was thankful for on this travel day. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. Literally.

It was one of those travel days where you think that maybe God is trying to tell you not to get on the plane.

What I am thankful for, though, is a travel buddy in Mac who never lost hope or faith that we'd make it home. He was such a great sport about everything and never once complained.

Well, except when he told me to stop crying. That was sort of a complaint. But other than that, he was the ideal travel partner, and for that I'm truly grateful.