Best of Intentions

Despite my desire to do some serious blogging during the recent Colorado getaway--we arrived back at the Fortress of Little to No Solitude around 6 PM--I obviously wasn't up to the task. What started as a "last hurrah" before the start of school mutated into something much less celebratory. Rather than spending time strolling through the Denver Botanic Gardens or the newly expanded/remodeled art museum, our time consisted of hospital visits and convalescence.

Just before leaving for our trip, we learned that STK's grandmother had encountered some health difficulties requiring a hospital stay. Somewhere on the plains of Nebraska the cell phone rang and we received awful news: pancreatic cancer. She's lived a good long life but it's still difficult to see a loved one facing a terminal illness. While in Denver, STK visited her grandmother daily. The final farewell from the hospital proved particularly difficult as we realize we may not see Grandma J when we return for the holidays.

As we said our goodbyes Tuesday afternoon, our trip took another wrong turn at Albuquerque. Early Tuesday morning, I awoke at the horrifying hour of 6 AM to go for a 10 mile run (I've been training for a half marathon at the end of the month). At about 2.5 miles I noticed I wasn't running particularly well. I typically don't run all that well in the mornings so I'm used to a few extra aches and pains for the first fifteen minutes or so. No matter how hard I tried to push my lethargy aside, I couldn't do it. I hit the five mile mark and quit. This is extremely unusual behavior for me; when I set out to run, I typically set a target: five miles, forty-five minutes, etc. Sprained ankle, heat, stomach cramps--nothing stops me from completing a run. A week ago Tuesday I packed it in, walked home, and felt off the entire morning. I ate breakfast and my bagel just sat in my stomach. And sat. And sat. My condition worsened at the hospital. I finally pulled STK aside and said, "I hate to do this, but I don't feel so great."

We hopped in the car and started the hour drive to my parents. And that's when the bug hit in full force. By the time we reached my parents, I collapsed in the spare bedroom and shivered uncontrollably. With the assistance of copious amounts of ibuprofen, I managed to keep my temperature at 102.5. Tuesday was shot, Wednesday was a day of sleep and the intermittent foray out into the world to try and spend time with my family. While I didn't have vertigo and wasn't sick to my stomach, I couldn't eat anything. Food sat in my stomach like an indigestible croquet ball. I swear I could feel the damn thing just sitting there. Anything more exotic than toast or Malt O Meal resulted in stomach cramps and other effects that I'd rather not reveal on a public blog. Let's just say that at one point we had several scented candles burning in the spare bedroom. By Friday, when the rest of the family arrived (Aunt J, Uncle G, Cousin K, Cousin-in-Law T), I was finally well enough to interact with the living. I didn't feel terrific--far from the top of my game, in fact--but I could hang out.

Friday and Saturday were spent catching up, laughing, and reminiscing, the usual family stuff. Given the cramped quarters of my parents' spacious abode (eight people living under the same rough), a good time was had by all. I think.

Despite the detours and speed bumps, the trip was worth the effort and there were many most excellent moments. A leisurely dinner with all of our Denver alternafriends was definitely one of the hight lights, as was our last minute descent into the Denver goth scene for a couple hours of dancing. While at my parents, I managed to spend a couple hours with J, a friend from high school. No matter how much time slips by, that friendship will always be one of those that survives. If you're reading, J, thanks for the Hendrix! Excellent stuff for the journey home. I even hugged my father as we said goodbye (we never hug) . . . and he returned the hug. That moment has been 20+ years in the making. We might not see eye to eye on a great many things, but seem to be able to enjoy each other's company as more time goes by. As much as I hate to admit it, that's probably a result of my maturity more than anything else.

And that brings us to the point where I need a vacation to recover from my vacation. And that isn't going to happen. As STK commences the 2007-2008 school year tomorrow (teacher in-service and what not through the end of the week), I'm back on primary care patrol with TLO. My mornings will once again be filled with talk of "bulldozers," "ghosts," and "milk!" and filled with images of Handy Manny, Elmo, and Caillou.

What the heck happened to my summer?