vacation all i ever wanted…

Vacation
All I ever wanted
Vacation
Had to get away
Vacation
Meant to be spent alone. – The GoGos

My family planned a reunion in Lake Tahoe over 4th of July this year. I had been looking forward to the vacation the entire year. Cousins whom I hadn’t seen in over twenty years would also be attending, and I was anxious to spend a few days relaxing outside with my feet in the lake surrounded by mountains.

I booked my flight months in advance and was disappointed to discover there are no non-stop flights from my city to Reno, the closest airport to Lake Tahoe. As I have mentioned countless times, I hate flying. Airports involve long lines and lots of standing, and takeoff gives me adrenaline surges. Switching planes at the layover airport often involves rushing and running  and another takeoff  – more adrenaline. It’s all very uncomfortable. But because I had just obtained TSA precheck status, and my longest of the two flights was only 1 hour and 35 minutes, I knew I could handle it.

But then my mother-in-law was diagnosed with cancer, and we began spending every free moment taking care of her. I stopped exercising and watching my sodium intake, and often forgot to take medication. And then she died, and I was supposed to get on a plane exactly two weeks later.

I debated whether to make the trip to Lake Tahoe for the family reunion. I knew my husband and father-in-law would be fine without me, but I felt guilty for leaving, and wasn’t sure I was emotionally ready to be around other people. My mother-in-law’s death took a huge emotional toll on my family. It was unexpected and we were unprepared and I’ve never witnessed someone suffer like that. I was a little broken from the experience, and uncertain whether I should inflict my broken spirit on anyone else, even if they were family. My husband reminded me that I may not see some of those cousins for another 20 years and would regret not going.  So, I kept my ticket and got on a plane.

The first day was great. The flights went as well as could be expected and I loved seeing my family. I had to back out of some of the fun activities the relatives my own age had planned and spent the afternoon resting or spending time with my dad, aunts, and uncles. We went out for a great dinner and watched the fireworks over the lake.

But then I woke up the next day with a migraine and spent the entire day in the rented cabin while everyone else went bike riding, hiking, or swimming. In the evening they played games and drank beer, while I watched for a few minutes at a time in between lying buried under covers in a dark room or vomiting in the shared bathroom.

The next morning was much of the same. My migraine was better, but I couldn’t get my resting heart rate under 110, even with a triple beta blocker dose. These days my resting HR is usually in the 50s with a single dose. The rest of the family went on a chartered sailboat ride on the lake while I searched the entire cabin for an icepack for my head while crawling on my hands and knees in order to keep my heart rate down. I hate having migraines and being sick, but I loathe having migraines and being sick in someone else’s house. It takes away the last shred of control you have: your territory.

By afternoon I was able to get up and walk around without my heart rate doubling or feeling nauseous. The family’s boat ride had ended, and I agreed to join them for lunch. I couldn’t actually eat anything, due to the nausea, but I enjoyed sitting with them and seeing photos from their morning boat ride. That evening I rested and watched everyone else drink wine and play games. The next morning I woke up with the typical migraine hangover. We left for the airport and I again boarded two flights.

It was a challenging trip, and unfortunately I didn’t come out of it any less broken. The worst part wasn’t that I was alone in a strange cabin during the day while 16 members of my family were out having fun. After the crushing previous two months, I expected to rest while the family enjoyed the lake, and even warned them as much. I was physically and emotionally exhausted, and actually looked forward to just sitting. I only had two goals for the trip: to see my cousins and dip my feet in the lake. Unfortunately, the majority of my time was spent in a dark room, but I was aware of that risk.

The worst part was that, in the evenings when everyone was sitting around the table and I joined them, I wasn’t a part of the inside jokes from the day’s activity, or the sharing of photos, or the discussions of where they should go for the next trip or adventure. At one point, the cousins (who are all around my age) exchanged phone numbers and email addresses to make sure they had the most current contact information. Friends, not one person asked for my phone number or email address. I was in about 1% of the photos from that weekend. Years from now, when family looks back and remembers that trip, they will forget I was even there.

And that’s the killer of having a chronic illness. You become irrelevant. It’s not that my family doesn’t like me – I know they do.  I have that socially acceptable blend of easy-goingness and sense of humor that makes me, if not likable, then at the very least tolerable. It’s that sometimes, when you have an invisible illness, the illness isn’t the only thing that’s invisible.

In the ten weeks since that trip, I have asked myself numerous times whether it was worth it. I paid nearly $1,000 to sit in a cabin for 2.5 out of 3 days. I endured 4 flights to lie in a stranger’s bed, without my ice pack, without my standard pain relief, and without my dog. But after pondering whether I regretted going, I realized it didn’t matter. It’s done, I went; and no matter how much I wish that I had felt better or that the weekend had turned out differently, I can’t change it.

And if I start to regret everything that didn’t turn out how I intended, I risk turning my entire fragile complicated life into a regret.

And it’s not.

After all, I accomplished my two goals: I got to see my cousins, and on the third day, I stepped my feet into the lake. And as a bonus, I also made two new dogfriends and got to fill in the “puked in the bathroom of someone you have never met” square on my chronic illness Bingo board.

So, win-win.

“If you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude.” – Maya Angelou

Smell ya later.
– Linds