Wrapping it up…Tom’s packing…

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The final “towel, pet” in our cabin aboard Royal Caribbean’s Mariner of the Seas.  Tomorrow morning we disembark.
The Gulf of Aden behind us as we head full speed toDubai, we are grateful for the incident free transit through these dangerous waters. 

Impressed with the manner in which the security of the ship and the safety of its passengers was handled, overall, we’ve been pleased with Royal Caribbean.

Without a doubt, we’d consider cruising with them in the future. Our favorite remains Celebrity which many passengers have also freely expressed in our endless discussions about the quality of various cruise lines. 

On CruiseCritic, there were a number of comments that this ship, Mariner of the Seas, is old and worn. We saw little evidence of that other than peeling paint on a metal brace on our balcony and a few signs of wear and tear in the Windjammer Cafe. Nothing major.

The service in the Windjammer Cafe each morning was exemplary, the dining room at night, a mish mash, sometimes great, sometimes not, depending upon the annoyance by the waiter of my “special order.” 

It appeared they were all overworked and overwhelmed by the number of guests that they had to serve each night, rushing our food to the table, attempting to clear our plates too soon and failing to take our drink orders.

I’d order two glasses of iced tea each night, knowing it would be impossible to get refills during dinner. Going to dinner at 7:00 pm most nights, we seldom stopped at the bar before dinner.

Tom hoped to order a cocktail during dinner. All in all, he was able to order a drink only 4 of the past 14 nights, unable to get a bar server to the table which is an offered service. 

Our cabin steward, Jing, was always friendly, warm and quick to respond to our requests, however few we had: ice twice a day, extra hangers when we moved in, handling our two bags of laundry.  Twice each day our cabin was cleaned and restocked with fresh towels.

Oddly, the only toiletries supplied by RC were the small bar soaps and body wash in a dispenser in the shower. Carnival had toothpaste, shavers, nail and sewing kits. Norwegian had few amenities, other than body wash in the shower plus we had to ask for bar soap. Celebrity supplied shampoo, conditioner, body lotion, plus all of the above. It speaks for itself.

None the less, sickness, service and food inconsistencies aside, we had a great time on this cruise, meeting many interesting travelers from all over the world, picking up some valuable tips and now, as we become more travel savvy (with much more to learn!), offering a few tips of our own. 

Tom is totally free of the illness. I’m still lingering, coughing, sore throat, hopefully turning the corner soon. Tom is currently packing with no help from me as I sit here hacking away.

Everyone at our table of six at dinner last night had been sick during this cruise with either Norovirus or this same respiratory illness.  I warned everyone that I was still ill. After five days, I doubt I am still contagious. No one at the table seemed concerned, they’d catch anything. After all, maybe as many as 40% of the passengers had some type of bug while on this cruise.

There’s nothing particular about cruising in itself that brings on illness. It’s the simple fact of lots of people in the same confined space, day after day, breathing the same recycled air conditioned air, touching handrails, elevator buttons, salt and pepper shakers, serving pieces, arm rests on seats in the theatre and on and on that creates a fertile breeding ground for contagions.

During each of our periods of illness, we’ve made every effort to be mindful of others, touching no common areas and washing our hands with soap and hot water many times each day. But as we ate our breakfast, the servers cleared our plates and with their bare hands clearing off our flatware and plates. Minutes later they were handing a guest a cup of coffee. No matter how hard one tries,there is no way to avoid transmitting illnesses.

The most annoying aspect of other sick passengers has been those coughing and sneezing into the air sending their toxins to everyone nearby. Certainly, carrying tissue, readily available in the cabin, is an easy alternative in addition to immediately washing one’s hands when coughing and sneezing into them or tissues.

Whatever precautions we may have implemented;  taking probiotics, vitamin C, staying healthy and active, and eating well, doesn’t seem to offer much insurance against our vulnerability. It’s the nature of the beast, much like being on an airplane, only to end up with a cold a day or two later.

Most likely in two days, I’ll feel well again, following the same course as Tom. In the interim, I’ve had little interest in taking photos, spending most of the past few days resting in our cabin, only leaving for breakfast to sit in our favorite comfy booth to eat and write our ongoing story and, for the few hours for dinner in the main dining room in the evenings.

Tonight, our bags will be placed outside our door for pickup between 7:00 and 11:00 pm. Breakfast will be served from 6:00 am to 9:00 am. Disembarking, a laborious process, will begin around 7:00 am. Again, we hope to be the last to disembark, resulting in less waiting time in Dubai to get into our condo at 2:00 pm.

Most likely, we won’t be writing tomorrow as we get situated in Dubai. But we’ll be back on
Wednesday with photos of our “home” for the next 13 nights, our trip to the market, views of the city and whatever other morsels we discover in our first 24 hours in the amazing city of Dubai.
Stay tuned, folks. 

Oh, oh…Shipboard illness…We’ve been snagged…

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In the past several days we’ve cruised past Saudi Arabia, Sudan, Yemen, Eritrea, Somalia, and today Oman.  “Another safe, uneventful night,” says Captain Fleming over the loud speaker this morning.

Within the next 40 hours, we’ll cruise by Pakistan and Iran. Oh.

Washing our hands no less than 20 times a day has not protected us from catching the virus running rampant on this ship.

Tom succumbed nine days ago, starting with a tickle in his throat, progressing to a sore throat, runny nose and cough.  It was worse than a cold, more like a flu. In a matter of days, he went through an entire $18.95 bottle of Daytime Nyquil, purchased in the gift shop.

With the excursion to Petra scheduled this past Tuesday, he was determined to make the trip, no matter how poorly he felt I’m amazed how well he did on the tortuous three hour hike and four hour bus ride considering how he was feeling.

When Wednesday arrived, the day after Petra, I made a lofty assumption that I had dodged a bullet. With five days passing since Tom’s onset of symptoms, I was yet to have any indications that I’d caught the illness in our tight quarters or while exposed to hundreds of other sick passengers on the bus or in the dining areas.

Alas, late Wednesday afternoon, a tickle started in my throat, later that night to turn into a raging sore throat. As had transpired with Tom, it seemed to get better the second day, only to return with a vengeance on the third.

Now, four days after the tickle began, I’m a mess; achy, tired, raging sore throat, worse at night, with a disgusting useless cough. I’m refusing to see the doctor (I wouldn’t have in our old life). Tom has served me all my food in the restaurant to ensure I don’t touch anything, as I did for him when he was sick.

In the past, I would have done as most of us do, see it through, pampering ourselves as much as we can, hoping it will turn the corner to returned good health.

With no fever or apparent bacterial infection, what would the doctor do? Prescribe antibiotics, which only reduce one’s immune system with the potential for intestinal distress? Plus, as we all know, antibiotics don’t work for viruses, only bacterial infections.

Other possible doctor treatment? Over the counter medications that really don’t do anything other than to reduce the severity of the symptoms for a few hours. As lousy as I feel, I don’t want to sit in the germ-filled medical clinic where we’ve heard that one must take a number resulting in waiting for hours to see the ship’s doctor.

Norovirus has been rampant on this ship. Many passengers we’ve met have gone for treatment, including one of whom had to have IV fluids for several hours. So far, we haven’t been subjected to the ravages of that particular illness on any of our seven past cruises beginning January 3, 2013. With one more cruise scheduled for June 4th, hopefully, we’ll continue to be safe from this dreadful intestinal illness.

Tomorrow, we’ll pack again, to leave our bags outside our cabin door by 10:00 pm, to be picked up and held until departure on Tuesday morning. As always, we’ll carry our two laptop bags and the cloth bag with our prescriptions, utilizing one of our two wheeling carts for ease of movement.

Today’s a day of rest, staying in our cabin, reading, writing and using up the remaining minutes of the packages we’d purchased for the ship’s WiFi. 

Tonight is the final of three dress up nights aboard this ship, Royal Caribbean’s Mariner of the Seas. Having donated the balance of our dress-up clothes to the charity in Barcelona, we’ll be dressing “casual, dressy,” Tom in dress slacks and shirt with me in a long casual dress. It will have to do. 

On this ship, 75% of the passengers dining in the main dining rooms have dressed up for these occasions. At this point, we feel fine dressing casual. Our ease of travel is much more important to us than us showing off wearing in fancy clothing.

As we wind down this cruise, we look forward to our time in Dubai, hoping to add yet another rich experience to our repertoire of worldwide adventures.

Stuff happens…We’re injured…

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This is how the steps collapsed under our feet.

It was Thursday this week, the night of our anniversary. We came back to our villa after a lovely dinner to relax and enjoy the windy, bug free evening. It was 8:30 PM. 

Opening the wide sliding glass door, the  powerful ocean breezes rushed in filling our living room with the fresh scent of the ocean and the thick evening humidity, pleasing to our senses. 

Suddenly, I remembered that I’d left out a few kitchen towels to dry on the canvas lounge chair on the veranda. With the strong winds, I suggested to Tom that we venture outside to collect the towels and check out the status of the surf which wildly crashed in front of us.

Corner view of broken steps.

Still in our casual and comfortable dinner clothing as depicted in yesterday’s post with our anniversary photo, with me in flat sandals, we meandered out to the veranda in awe of the wind. The kitchen towels were about to blow away with one of them already on the ground. I grabbed two. Tom, gentleman that he is, grabbed the one askew on the ground.

Taking my hand, he led to off the wooden steps. As my foot hit the top step, a thought flashed through my mind, “Oh, I didn’t realize these sandals were wobbly.” I’d worn them many times and their flat arch support heels provided a stable step.  I don’t drink alcohol so I certainly wasn’t teetering.

Within a second, we were falling, crashing, banging.  In an instant, I found myself saying over and over, “Oh, my God!  Oh, my God!” On my way down, I hit my head on the strewn about wood, as the stairs broke apart, collapsing under us, then hit me mid-back and then…my tailbone. “Oh, my God,” I muttered again. Tom had also fallen. Immediately, our attention turned to one another.

Left view of the steps where we fell.
He’d cut and bruised his right shin, droplets of blood seeping through his white pants, one of the few white pants he wears on the cruise ships. How will I get the blood out, I thought, good laundress that I am, without a washer?

Lying in a pile atop the crumbled stairs, as Tom nervously gather me in his arms, I immediately assessed my situation,  My first thought, “Can I move my legs?” Yes, I can.  “Can I turn and move my torso?”  Yes, I can.  “Can I get up?” With Tom’s arms gently coaxing me to a standing position, I stood up. We went inside to assess our injuries.

Tom’s right shin was scraped and bruised, comparable to the knee scrapes we experienced as kids from falling off of our bikes.  No broken bones, no stitches required. My injuries were less obvious having banged my head, my mid-back and my tail bone on the jutting chunks of collapsed wood on the way down.

I could walk, I could bend, I could twist. There were no cuts, no obvious signs of injuries. Hopefully, I thought, my injuries would result in severe bruising. 

Should this accident have occurred at a resort in the US, ambulances would have been called, staff would have gathered around and perhaps, one might have contacted an attorney. The steps broke under two normal weight individuals.

Side view of steps.

We could have easily notified the security guard or the restaurant staff. Instead, we chose to tend to our injuries notifying management in the morning. These steps were for our exclusive use and could easily wait until morning. Most certainly, the salty air and intense humidity, rotted the wood and lessened the hold by the nails. We blame no one. 

Tom fashioned an inventive ice pack for me and I parked myself on the not-so-comfy sofa after taking two Aleve, for the remainder of the evening.  Without a doubt, we were both worried. Would my condition worsen over the night or the next few days? 

Much to my surprise I slept through the night, carefully lying on my side with a pillow propped up against my back to avoid turning over. Awakening at 6 am, the first thought in my mind was the frightening fall and secondly, the food I was yet to prepare for our share of the upcoming Minnesota Pot Luck Dinner with our Minnesota neighbors on either side of us. 

I didn’t feel up to cooking but decided that standing for 10 to 15 minutes at a time would do more good than harm while I’d take a break from the ice pack. Neither the sofa or nor the chairs in our villa provide good back support to warrant sitting for an extended period.

Tom helped in the kitchen and the time breezed by. By 10:30 am, we had most of the food prepared.  We decided it was time to inform management of our “accident” and the necessity of repairing the collapsed stairs. 

Of course, the conscientious staff was highly concerned and anxious to tend to our needs.  We only asked that they launder Tom’s bloody pants and repair the steps. Later in the day, Tom’s meticulously laundered and ironed pants were returned.

Within a matter of minutes, workers appeared at our villa to attend to the repairs.  With the loud noise of the hammering and pounding we decided to sit by the pool. Another gorgeous day was calling to us. 

Gingerly positioning myself on the un-padded lounge chair by the pool, I knew I wouldn’t last long. The cool water of the unheated pool provided some relief but less than an hour later, we walked back to our villa, determined to park myself with ice on the padded lounge chair on the veranda until it was time to shower and dress for the party. The workers were still pounding. We didn’t care. 

We were pleased with management’s handling of the situation. They were both respectful and very concerned, again checking with us over the next 48 hours.  There’s nothing more we would have asked of them.

On the way back to our villa, I dropped my smartphone on the cement cracking the screen in several places.

Having only purchased the no-contract phone for about $900 in December and now unable to easily read the Kindle app at night in bed, my heart sank.  My phone had been a constant companion while reading by the pool, the veranda or sitting in the chairs on the beach outside our door. Still able to receive a WiFi signal on our phones without a contract, I’d also been able to easily use Skype on my phone as discussed in the Skype post of several days ago.

Tom, bless his patient demeanor said nary a word, other than, “Don’t worry, lover. We’ll figure it out.” Gosh, I’m traveling the world with the right guy!

The remainder of the day whisked by and suddenly we realized it was time to get ready for the party.  Feeling better from the ice, the rest and the Aleve, I was confident we could go and have a good time.

It was not only a good time but a great time. The laughter, the chatter, the Minnesota stories got my mind off of my aching body. The drinks, the food, the ambiance in their lovely “owned” villa, found us all in a frenzy of endless story telling. We had a blast! 

Our new Minnesota friends kindly offered to mail my phone to a repair shop in the US when they return on March 22nd. I graciously declined, not wanting to impose. But after careful consideration, we came up with a plan. Maybe we would take them up on their generous offer.

Here’s our idea:
1.  Find a reputable smart phone screen repair company online.  Contact them alerting them that my phone will be arriving the week of March 23-30 for repair.
2.  Prepay by credit card for the repairs.
3.  Place the phone in a padded envelope with the repair company’s address.
4.  Give our Minnesota friends postage to mail our phone to the repair company.
5.  Instruct the repair company to rush the order, mailing it our mailing service…to go into the box being shipped to us for pickup on April 13th in Miami when our ship arrives.

This should work regarding the phone.  As for me, we’re hoping my injuries will resolve in a week or so, bringing me back to my former feeling-well self, cheerful, joyful without a worry in the world. 

In the interim, there’s no doubt that we’re guarded. Today, its more tender than yesterday, not uncommon in bruising injuries. I sit here, as we “speak” Tom’s nifty ice pack in tow, which he thoughtfully adjusts every 20 minutes or so, from my back to my neck to my tailbone.

Ah, yes.  _ _ _ _ happens!  Everywhere we go, there we are. We take with us, wherever we may be, all of life’s challenges, mishaps, heartbreaks and sorrows. No one is exempt. 

The difference for some, is the ability to tap into one’s well of strength and determination along with an innate desire to carry on.  I can only hope and pray that no matter what we encounter on our journey, that we’ll continue to strive for that strength and determination.

Be well, my friends.

Raining for days…

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A palm frond we discovered on the drive to Maya Beach

It’s rained almost nonstop the past three days.  With no screens on the windows, the humidity at 100%, the bugs are literally swarming around me biting every few minutes.  Trying not to scratch seems to reduce the longevity of the itching.

Both of us are making a concerted effort to stay cheerful and optimistic. We perceive this period of time as “training.”  Training to learn to live with the bites, the humidity, the inclement weather, the lack of hot water, often no water at all, and of course, the bugs. 

Beach at Maya Beach Hotel

It won’t be like this everywhere we’ve planned to visit, only a few.  In a little over 60 days, we’ll be aboard ship again for over a month.  That’s an easy life.

We had no delusions that this would be one long vacation. However, we hadn’t imagined we’d have this water issue.  Had we known, we would not have rented this small beach house.

Tom at Maya Beach

Apparently, the water problem is due to issues with the city trying to repair the lines.  They shut off the water frequently, not turning it back on for hours, sometimes days. When they finally do, its a mere trickle, not enough to flush the toilet. There is no hot water from any faucet. We showered, washing off our sweaty and bug spray covered skin under the cold trickle.

We have no options to move.  After days of looking, this being the high season, there isn’t a single habitable place for us in any of the decent areas.  Hotels are too expensive and have no vacancies as mentioned in a past post.  We have nine weeks to go.

Inviting

The golf cart sits in the driveway unattended.  We can’t wait to get out again.  It cleared for a little while yesterday early afternoon enabling us to drive the three miles to Maya Beach to check out some restaurants.  We’ve decided to eat out three times a week. It helps. The Maya Beach Hotel has the top-rated restaurant in the country of Belize, the Bistro.

Making a reservation for dinner for last night we sat at the bar, ordering a soda while perusing their unique menus, anxious to return in four hours to enjoy not only their epicurean delights but the inviting ambiance as well.  There were numerous options befitting our way of eating.  Tom cheats when we dine out, but with apparently no repercussions other than weight gain.  The next day he eats healthy balancing it all out.

Me at the Maya Beach Hotel.  Pockets filled with stuff as usual. 

We stopped along the return drive exploring the side streets, other restaurants, and the lush unusual vegetation. We stopped at the grocery store, miraculously finding a nonstick pizza pan wrapped in plastic, dusty in the back of a shelf, which will travel the world with us. 

When we originally packed, we laughed at the idea of bringing along a pizza pan.  But now, with a desire for a decent homemade meal with the limitations at the grocery stores, we’re grateful we found a pan. Our pizza requires parchment paper or Reynold’s No Stick foil. Neither of these exists in this country. Hopefully, the nonstick pan will suffice. They don’t sell mushrooms in Belize. 

The nicest grocery store near us

There’s little meat in the grocery stores only a few clumps of freezer-burned, frozen packages and literally no fresh meat. The grass-fed meat is all frozen.  We made steak.  It was thin and tough.  We ate it anyway. 

Mostly, the people of Belize eat beans, rice, pork, plantains, fried tortillas, a combination of many cultures. I’ve yet to see any seafood, fresh, or frozen in any of the three biggest grocery stores in the area. Yet, the restaurant’s menus are filled with seafood options.

A house we passed on the road to Maya Beach

On the ride back to the little house, the clouds rapidly changed from fluffy white to dark barreling cylinders.  We barely made it inside the door when the pouring rain returned.  If we were to make our 6:30 dinner reservation, we’d need to leave at 6:10. 

The rain never stopped. Dressed and ready to go at 6:00 PM we decided that we couldn’t risk it. The roof over the golf cart would provide no protection from the high winds and sideways rain. I contacted the restaurant online and canceled the reservation, promising to try again soon.  Today, actually.

Neither of us had eaten all day, not hungry after our huge buffet dinner the night before. There we were, not only hungry but needing to eat.  The tiny freezer held two items, Italian sausage for the pizza (quite the find) and two one-pound packages of ground grass-fed steak in funny skinny rolled packages less than 2″ in diameter.  Taking out the meat, it took but a few minutes to begin to defrost.

The Bistro at the Maya Beach Hotel rated Belize’s Top Rated Restaurant of the Year in 2012.  We tried to keep our reservation last night at 6:30 driving our golf cart the three miles, but were ‘rained out.” Trying again tonight! 

Tom said as I sliced the meat into well-shaped rounds, “Now we know why they serve so many “sliders” here.  They use this same meat!” We laughed.

First, cooking eight slices of bacon in my trusty frying pan, I placed the nine tiny burgers, well seasoned, into the pan carefully cooking them until fully done, more important now than ever. When done, we covered each mini burger with a chunk of sharp cheddar cheese and the cooked bacon. On the side, we had canned green beans made by Goya, a product line familiar in the US. 

Travel Nurse Marsha suggested we eat canned brand name vegetables as opposed to fresh to avoid the risk of waterborne disease and parasites.  The upscale resort restaurants have reverse osmosis systems to protect their hotel guests and customers. We never fail to ask. If so, we feel comfortable eating their cooked vegetables, although we refuse the raw vegetables which may be subject to mishandling, water parasites, and the like.  No salad while here. 

The only sickness we’ve experienced since leaving the US was the flu/cough/colds we contracted on the last cruise. Everyone was coughing. Mine still lingers, improving a little each day. 

We continue to boil a huge pot of water each day for washing dishes, hands, and faces. We drink only purified bottled water, five-gallon jugs for $3 US. Tom pours them into our smaller used purified water bottles, making them easier to handle. Both of us are feeling our shoulders in this humidity.

We fill empty bottles with tap water, keeping three or four large jugs in the bathroom to use for flushing the toilet, being extra careful never to mix them up since they all look alike. 

This morning the water ran long enough to do a load of laundry. A few days ago, it took six hours for one load, today only two. With the rain pelting, we hung the clothes indoors on the surprisingly available indoor clothesline.  I wondered why it was there when we first walked in the door almost a week ago. It will take two days for them to dry. Seriously. Did you ever use a bath towel hung in humidity to dry?  It hurts to wipe oneself! Guess it’s a good way to exfoliate after a refreshing cold shower.

As I write this the rain has stopped, although the dark clouds hover.  Our hope is to leave here at 5:00 PM today to head to The Bistro for a much-anticipated dinner by the sea. Bug spray before we dash out the door. The no-see-ums arrive at 5:00 pm. They have Crystal Lite Martguerita’s.  Hum….

All my sorrows…

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“Yesterday, all my sorrows seemed so far away.” The words of the Beatles song echoed in my head as I drove away from our house which may prove to be the last time I’ll ever see it.

Walking into the door yesterday morning with my dear son Greg to finally witness what was left after the fourth and final day of the estate sale was heartbreaking.  

My comfy chair, the chair from which I wrote every word of this blog (except for the past 10 days), the chair where I laughed, the chair where I cried, the chair where I lived, and the chair where I sat, and on occasion suffered Life’s challenges and sorrows.  The chair.  It sat in the dumpster.

No one bought my perfect condition, mauve colored velvet, definitely outdated, Flexsteel recliner chair, surely overpriced at my insistence of $100, more appropriately priced at $24.  And now, it sits in a dumpster.

Goodwill,  the Vets, and the thrift store, all turned it down. I offered it to son Greg. Not interested. No room. I offered it to dear friend and neighbor Jamie. Not interested. No room.  

Goodbye chair. Goodbye chair. And the chair represented it all, letting go of that life, of that time, of that house.

The estate sale people’s cars were scattered about the lawn as they carried lifted and hauled the remnants of our lives outside to go into one of two trucks and then the dreaded dumpster. They worked so hard.

A number of items didn’t sell including our 1902 Baker Rhodes player piano and all the music roles that go with. Not an offer. Anyone want it?  Pay to have it removed by tomorrow afternoon ($250) and its yours. The Italian leather down filled sectional.  I had an offer that I refused for $350.  Maybe I should have taken it. 

The 10′ long hand made table crafted from wood in our yard in 1923 by a craftsman from Dayton’s, all made with wooden screws with six chairs will be picked up today to go to a consignment store.  Thanks to friend Jamie, who lovingly coordinated it all for us.  Thank you Jamie.

The money?  Not one-sixth of what we had hoped for, a mere pittance for our lives, the quality we demanded, the unique design we sought, now all lost to the whims of a terrible economy, conservative buyers in tough economic times.  We never counted on any return from the sale into our travel budget.  Good thing.

The five estate sale people worked so hard.  They cleaned, they scrubbed, they vacuumed, they washed everything in site.  It looks nice for the new people. When I returned in the afternoon to pick up the cable boxes, they were still there, almost done.  It looked great.  Thank you, Jason, Nadine, Jessica, and all. You worked so hard.

Tom quit smoking yesterday.  I took his car to have it detailed, free from smoke residue, making the drive to Scottsdale more pleasant for me beginning tomorrow, Halloween, the final day in the month’s long countdown.  Between son Greg and dear friend Chere, I had transportation during the four hour period the carwash had Tom’s car.

Chere and I spent three hours together yesterday, working out, having lunch, running errands and commiserating over the years we have known each other while wishing that Life would have allowed us more time together.  What is more important than love and friendship?  Sitting in the newly cleaned car, I cried when we said goodbye. 

Finally, back in Tom’s car, now alone, I returned the cable boxes only to discover that I was two boxes short.  I found one in Greg and daughter-in-law Camille’s SUV (which Tom drove to work yesterday).  Today I have to go back to the house one more time to look for the missing cable box.   Ouch!

Besides, I need to walk around the yard and say goodbye to our three pups buried in the yard.  How did I forget?  Bart, run over by the mailman at five, BenBenBen, died from Cushing’s Disease at 12.  And them my WorldWideWillie who passed away 18 months ago from cancer.  

I wrote a blog for Willie during the last 17 days of his life, from his perspective, a real tear jerker that helped me heal. We had over 500 followers.  How did they find it? They came from all over the world. They cried with me. We named this blog in part for Willie…worldwide…

More goodbyes today, the road tomorrow.  I’ll write along the way relieved that this sad part is behind us, finally allowing ourselves to experience the joy of the adventure that lay ahead and… “all my sorrows seemed so far away.”  Hello, world. One more day.

Happy retirement party day, Tom…Sick or not, I’m in!…

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Last night at 8:45 Tom took me to urgent care.  My voice gone, gut wrenching coughs overtaking me, it was time to address this three week old flu.  

An hour later with prescriptions for Z-Pack and codeine cough medicine in hand, we left the all night pharmacy to return to Karen’s home and some much needed sleep. 

It was a fitful night, tossing, turning, dreaming and coughing.  Trying not to take the cough medicine before bed, like a fool, at 4 am I had no choice with the coughing continually awakening us.  The pharmacist had stressed, “Do not take more than one teaspoon.  Its a new formulation and could be dangerous.”  

“Good grief,” I thought, “Why give me such a dangerous drug?” With only a peculiar looking plastic measuring device that came with the red syrup I struggled to measure out one teaspoon.  My contacts were out.  I couldn’t see. With the intent of erring on the safe side, I poured what may have been a mere 1/2 teaspoon.  

In a matter of minutes I conked out to awaken at 8:15 this morning, head a little less foggy, voice somewhat “hear-able” and the coughing cut in half.  Who says antibiotics don’t work for a virus?  Although still sick, I now can manage to hostess Tom’s retirement party with a renewed expectation that I can make it through the busy day and night.

We invited less than 100 people but with the help of a co-worker and friend of Tom’s, Jer-Bear who enthusiastically invited many more, we could have a substantial turnout. After forty two years on the railroad, Tom with his outgoing and friendly demeanor could certainly warrant a reasonable turnout.  Thanks Jer-Bear.  

The last day of our estate sale is going on as we speak.  They’ve already called me twice asking for our “lowest price” on a few of the bigger items. Hopefully, they’ve been sold.  

Worried as to how much will sell, we are discussing plans for the “leftovers.” We must decide by Monday morning when the estate sale people return to donate, to dumpster and to clean the entire house (for an extra fee, of course).  

This is an angst ridden process: selling everything one owns and then disposing of many of those items that one considered to be treasures.  It not only hurts the pocket but, also the soul.  

We all want to believe that we have impeccable taste and yet, we all want to be unique.  That, my friends, is an oxymoron.  Uniqueness dictates that only certain people will find that which we have as “purchase worthy.”  Others will thumb their noses with their distaste.  So it goes in Life, yin and yang.

Tom’s SUV loaded with party supplies, soon I’ll leave to pick up Camille, my daughter-in-law who has been my loyal and official helper through thick and thin during this entire moving process.  She and I will pick up the food for the party, the cake (I’ll post a photo of the amazing cake next time I write), drive the long haul to the VFW party hall in Coon Rapids, Minnesota to set everything up for arriving guests at 5 PM. 

Tom will drive himself in Camille’s SUV to the party and then I will drive us both home in Tom’s SUV at the end of the evening, designated driver that I am with a relatively inebriated and outrageously humorous passenger in tow.  

As we move into the next phase toward Tom’s retirement date and, our departure date of October 31, 2012, I’m filled with sorrow, anticipation and elation all at once.  

The goodbyes beginning tonight, continuing over the next four days, will surely be the most difficult part of this many month’s long process of planning to travel the world over the next five to ten years, as vagabonds, gypsies, and adventurers. 

Not too bad for two typical Minnesota home bodies, having lived a joyful life of routine and familiarity, who’s world will soon be upside down. 

Burrowing in…

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Tom is still sleeping.  The sun has yet to come up.  I sit in my comfy chair in its original spot surrounded by all of our belongings neatly stacked on tables, arranged on shelves, or placed in new locations, all priced to sell. 

This will be the last time I sit in this chair writing this blog. When I write again on Monday it will be from Karen’s home in a spot I will choose as close to this familiarity as possible. Ah, creatures of habit, we are!  

Perhaps, it is time for me to welcome change. When our precious little Australian Terrier Willie was alive (he went to Doggie Heaven in April 2011), on occasion I took him along to visit friends.  Invariably, he’d find a spot in the corner of their sofa and burrow himself in, wildly throwing himself around in circles as he would at home, burrowing in until he managed the perfect spot. Will that be me?  Burrowing in?

Is it better to let go of the familiar when one makes a radical life change, such as we?  In my logical brain, I perceive that letting go of the familiar will bring personal growth and discovery.  In my emotional heart, I reach for the cocoons where I’ve found solace and comfort.

Yesterday, my dear daughter-in-law Camille showed up once again to help. Alone in the early morning, the estate sale people done with their pricing, I had tentatively faced the cleaning and washing of our three refrigerators, one giant freezer and emptying all the kitchen cabinets filled with food and spices.

My shoulder, still painful and cracking with a SLAP injury and bicep tendon tear made these tasks painful and daunting. Camille did it all as I stood beside her coaching while we laughed, reminisced and held back the tears. I will miss her.

During the day, friends and neighbors stopped in to see our normally impeccable home, as an impossible array of stuff for sale; once warm and inviting, now cold and austere.  Lots of hugs.  The time is near to say goodbye.

We’re still planning on moving out tomorrow before the Vikings Game at noon. Its hard to cook. The stove and all the counter tops are covered and overloaded with kitchen items for sale with nary a place to make my cup of tea, let alone a full meal.  

Tom suggested we cook the remaining homemade low carb, gluten free frozen pizza, one of very few items left in the freezer. It will serve us well tonight and Sunday night as we continue to gather our belongings to take to Karen’s.

At 4:30, I seasoned a boneless pork roast with my few remaining spices, placing it into the oven while still frozen.  Humm…I thought, where’s the meat thermometer?  I always use a meat thermometer.  Oh well, I’ll wing it, I guess.  

At 6:00 PM, Camille gone after a hard day’s work (thank you, my darling who is so there for me, for us), Tom and I walked down the road to say goodbye to our friend Sue who’s leaving at 5:00 am this morning to go back to “their” home in Florida for the winter, for the first time without Chip, her beloved husband and our friend, who sadly passed away at the end of May.  We’ll miss her too.  

We hugged goodbye.  I held her tight, feeling the lump in my throat, the tears welling in my eyes but she, so wounded from sorrow and tears these past months, refused to succumb, gently pushing me back, insisting “We’ll see each other soon.  This is not goodbye.” Tom and I walked silently down the road home, holding hands.

We walked in the door to the smell of the pork roast cooking in the oven, smelling good, so familiar.  I opened a can of Tom’s favorite green beans (oddly, he prefers canned to fresh), made a salad with little room to prepare and sliced the roast. It was done.  No thermometer.  Yes, maybe I can improvise.

We turned on the plasma TV in the kitchen to watch a show we’ve always recorded on the DVR to enjoy during dinner, Shark Tank.  We laughed, we talked. we cleaned our plates  The food tasted good.  Placing our dirty dishes in the dishwasher, I reminded myself to put price tags on them when they’re clean and place them with the other piles of Fiestaware, service for 24, in four different colors.  Goodbye, Fiestaware.  You’ve served us well.

Tom, now awake, showered and dressed, loaded up the car with a portion of our luggage plus food, wine and booze to leave with Karen.  Tomorrow, we’ll bring over the rest.

Soon we’ll join son Greg, Camille and those three little angels, 5, 4, and 3 for breakfast at IHOP in Eden Prairie after which we’ll head to Costco to order food and supplies for next Saturday’s party for Tom. Then, off to Karen’s to unload the car and back here for what we’ve decided will be our final night in our house.

Tonight, after another busy day of work we’ll fall into our ultra comfy Grand King Sleep Number bed, burrowing in, perhaps without “wildly throwing ourselves around in circles” for the very last time.

Feeling better, not perfect…

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Last Saturday night, we attended a 50th birthday party for Tom’s nephew. Tom drank. I drove as usual, which proved to be an hour’s drive each way. 

On the way home, my lively and animated passenger kept me entertained   With his usual jokes, backseat driving and directions, in this case leaving me much better off on my own resources, stone sober that I was.  His ongoing enthusiastic suggestions would surely would have taken us to a dead end road to oblivion.   

Tom seldom drinks.  Tom seldom drinks enough to get noticeably drunk and never has a hangover.  Tom is never sloppy or obnoxious.  He’s funny, very funny. As a result, I gladly drive when he wants to imbibe on those special occasions a few times each year.

Arriving home, he flopped into bed, snoring softly only minutes later. I poured a glass of ice water to leave on his bedside table, just in case he awoke thirsty during the night, along with the two Tylenol tablets. Just in case. 

Sipping iced tea all night, I struggled to fall asleep, finally relenting by taking two Formula 303 tablets, an all natural homeopathic remedy that works wonders getting me to sleep, not necessarily keeping me asleep. (It’s safe to take two more if necessary, that works as well the second time).  

Two hours after drifting off, I awakened to the gut-wrenching sound of gut-ripping coughing and relentless sniffing.  Darn!  He’s got a cold!  How will I ever fall sleep with all of this noise, light sleeper that I am?

Awakened no less than 20 times during the night to these “noises,” in the morning I felt as if I was the one with a hangover, struggling to drag myself out of bed and begin the day.  How can he be sick now, when we have so much to do?  

With his long work hours, he had little time or energy lately to get “his stuff” sorted and packed, mostly tools and memorabilia to give to the kids and grandchildren.  Trying not to nag (not my style) I gently reminded him over the past few weeks that time was marching on.  

Let’s face it, I tend to “over-prepare” well in advance and Tom, bless his heart, is somewhat of a procrastinator. We accept these differences in one another knowing full well, that when it’s time to go, we both will be ready.

As sick as he was all weekend, somehow he managed to work on his piles of papers, attack his boxes filled to the brim, and help me complete the packing and weighing of his luggage, mine done months ago.  

The weekend nights were sleepless for me with his coughing, choking and snorting while he remained relatively unconscious from the big dose of Nyquil PM.  Monday morning he dragged himself to work while I remained at home, minus a car to drive, preparing to get back to packing and sorting.  

On Monday night it hit me, first a little tickle in my throat, a peculiar little cough and a feeling of general malaise. As the sickness left him, it gathered deeply into my head, leaving me useless to perform even the smallest tasks.

In years past, this degree of discomfort would have driven me to go to urgent care for cough medicine, antihistamines and antibiotics.  Not so the case. Practice, practice, practice, I told myself. Practice getting through this illness without a doctor visit, toughing it out, drinking hot tea, eating light, healthy meals, moving about to avoid muscle loss and weakness.  

Last night around 3:00 am, I relented and took a half dose of the Nyquil PM when the coughing wouldn’t stop. Without my contacts in, I couldn’t read the label.  I searched my night table drawer, now nearly empty from cleaning and packing, for an old pair of reading specs.  What I read shocked me! 

Oh, no!  I had just downed high fructose corn syrup!  Is anything free of junk these days? I slugged down the second half of the dose. Tonight, sleep, sweet sleep was more therapeutic and meaningful that my desire to avoid HFCS.  I slept until 7:30 am, feeling better, not perfect, but better.

A wasted number of days with little accomplished, I resigned myself to the reality that when we travel the world, on occasion we’ll be sick, we’ll be tired and we won’t accomplish anything.  

However, while sick this week, Tom (never missing any work) and I both applied for Railroad Retirement. I researched less costly health insurance plans outside the US, finding a  more affordable option (we’ll write more about this later). I contacted social security about my Medicare options, packed several boxes, did more laundry, cooked a fresh dinner each night, made the bed each morning, talked to the pharmacy about purchasing our year’s worth of drugs out of our pocket (sans insurance) at month’s end and on and on.

I can’t wait until we’re gone to be able to spend some time doing nothing. How peculiar that will be. I’ve never “done nothing.”

Today, we’re both feeling better, not perfect, but better.

Is a good memory needed for travel?…How I improved my memory after it started to decline…

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Peculiarly, my memory is better now than when it was when I was 20 years old (so I think).  When I turned 50, while working at a stressful job, my memory started deteriorating rapidly. I expected to be a mindless blob at 60, let alone, my now almost 65.  

I’d find myself wandering around a room, wondering why I was there, forgetting my keys (don’t we all?). On occasion, I’d get into a stranger’s unlocked car in a parking lot that
happened to be the same color and model as mine. That scared me. Remember names? Forget about it! Impossible, at that time.

About 10 years ago, I started working out after a five year hiatus during the stressful job.  The more I worked out, the more I noticed that my memory was gradually improving over time.  
Changing to a low inflammation diet and upgrading my exercise routine over the past year as I wrote in a post two weeks ago, gradually enhanced and thus, creating a leap in my memory. Plus, spending seemingly endless hours researching for our adventure, pushed my memory to a whole new level.
To sum up what worked for me:
3. “Exercising my brain” via hours of research, learning new information, decision making.
4.  Being passionate about any topic of interest which fires up brain cells.
Many studies suggest stress relieving activities such as meditation, yoga, and Pilate’s may be instrumental in improving one’s memory.  For me, learning new information is fuel for my soul, providing great stress relief and enjoyment. Thus, my memory improved.

Through this lengthy and time consuming process of planning to travel the world for years to come, I discovered that good memory was a benefit of good record keeping.  

Documenting our travel plans in a methodical order on an series of Excel spreadsheets within a single workbook was highly instrumental in building a foundation for our itinerary.  Keeping detailed records of our itinerary, deposits paid, balances due, a to do list, an estimate of eventual “actual” travel and living expenses, cruises, flights and other means of travel is a constant point of reference leading to building my memory.  

Subsequently, referring to this Excel workbook, without even trying, somehow I’ve memorized every detail.  Much to my surprise.  Its seems to me that, “the more I remember, the more I remember.”  This is a far cry from where I was over ten years ago.
Dementia is a common and expected fact of aging.  We see it in our family members, friends and acquaintances.  We witness lapses of memory in our loved ones, dismissing it, in part for fear of embarrassing them and also, for our own vulnerability. 

Perhaps, we may be able to prevent our own memory loss by being physically active, eating healthfully and living a proactive life. If we stay engaged, busy, passionate about our lives, purposefully and frequently memorizing tidbits of information while entering into lively animated conversations (easy to do in this heated political environment), we can retain and actually improve our memory. 

If we read to learn, not only to entertain and listen to others with undivided attention, maybe, just maybe, we will remember, not only what happened 40 years ago and also last year and… most of all, minutes and hours ago.

After all, every step of our lives is but a memory only minutes later.  Drawing upon those memories is the essence of life’s richness to share with those we love, to gather into our hearts in times of sorrow and to take with us into our old age.
As I close for today, it would be typical for one to make a joke, a play on words on memory loss. I won’t. I can’t think of any!

Smarter science…enjoying good health around the world…

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My neighbor took this photo of me this morning in our yard.

From a family with endless variations of heart disease, raging diabetes, rampant obesity, stroke-inducing hypertension, crippling spine and bone disorders and myriad autoimmune disorders, its been a lifelong battle for me to be healthy, slim and fit. My genes are against me.

It hasn’t been easy.  I started dieting at eleven, exercising at fifteen, feeling as if I were a hamster on a wheel, peddling faster and faster, never getting ahead of the curse I had inherited.  For many, this is not an uncommon plight.  Add raging hormones into the mix, and for many years, a long and healthy life seemed hopeless.  

My wardrobe consisted of clothing in sizes 2-14, my refrigerator stocked with foods for the latest fad diet promising a solution that would make this preoccupation with food and exercise gone for once and for all. I have tried them all.

Somehow, I managed to stay relatively slim and moderately fit, but not necessarily healthy. In all these years, I consumed no fast food, no fries, no burgers, no fried foods, and very few sugary snacks or desserts. Constantly hungry, always craving sweets and struggling with portion control, I blamed it on a my own lack of willpower.

Over the past 40 years, I blindly followed the “government’s” recommendation to eat a low fat diet with “healthy” whole grains, fruits, vegetables and lean meats in small portions.  Nothing improved. I didn’t use butter, mayonnaise or salad dressing fearing too much fat.  I ate six or more servings of vegetables per day and consumed plenty of fiber.  Nothing improved.

My cholesterol and triglycerides were high, my HDL too low, my weight teetered back and forth, I experienced constant pain often feeling weak and unfit. Yet I continued to “work out,” never less than five days a week, often for an hour and a half at a time.  I changed up the workout every month as “they” recommended.  

I walked, I lifted weights with a torn shoulder and arthritic knee, I stretched and I tried yoga.  A few years ago I invested in a BodyMedia device that I wore on a stretchy band on my bicep for two years, measuring all of my activities, aiming at a minimum of 10,000 steps per day. Most days it registered 12,000 steps. But, nothing improved.  NOTHING!!  

So what?  I was active, but my appetite increased the more I moved.  Should I be eating even less and exercising more to get to a level of fitness that would bring me some relief?  I was frustrated and stymied.

When I retired two years ago, I began spending most of my days when I wasn’t struggling at the health club, researching for a solution to the pain, the incessant hunger, the high blood sugar, and a failing exercise routine.  

My legs felt like lead and walking in itself, became almost unbearable. How would I continue working out?   Doing so gave me a few hours of pain relief when I was able to muster up a small surge of endorphins.

A year ago, I began to accept the reality that traditional medicine failed me and that I was doomed to a life in a wheelchair  In desperation, I sought the help of renowned, local chiropractor, Dr. Jamey Antione at the Minnesota Disc Institute, whom I had heard was a miracle worker.  

After reviewing my three MRI’s, indicating advanced joint disease, he suggested a treatment modality which included an inflammation-free diet.  He was adamant that I quit consuming grains, all grains, handing me printed literature about the diet from the famed Cleveland Clinic.

I was eating healthfully, so I thought: lots of whole grains, no white flour, no sugar, organic vegetables, fruits and smoothies made with protein powder, bananas and frozen strawberries. I purchased most of our produce directly from an organic farm during the summers.  It all seemed so right.

Eager to do anything to feel better, I began researching again, hundreds of studies, books, websites regarding anti-inflammation diets all of which led me to two life changing books: Wheat Belly by Dr. William Davis and, months later to The Smarter Science of Slim by Jonathan Bailor. 

Had I not meticulously followed the scientific research and resulting lifestyle changes presented so clearly in these two books, Tom and I would not be able to explore the world for the next many years.  Already slim, I discovered I was “skinny fat”.  Tom, sweetheart that he is, feeling burdened by some extra weight around the belly, followed along with me, subsequently saying goodbye to the debilitating symptoms of Celiac Disease and acid reflux.

Now, a year later, Tom has lost 30 pounds, I am no longer “skinny-fat,” instead feeling lean and fit for the first time. The pain is reduced dramatically, the cholesterol, triglycerides, are way down, the HDL way up (Tom has genetically great numbers. Lucky guy!), my muscles are more defined, my strength has increased 100%, I sleep better, I am never foraging for food an hour after I have eaten and no longer battling high blood sugar and hypertension.

Yes, it has been a huge commitment! Yes, saving one’s life is a huge commitment!   While going low carb, we chose to go wheat-free, gluten-free, grain-free, sugar-free and starch-free.  

We don’t eat any processed foods or corn, rice, potatoes, pasta, cakes, pies, chips or any fruit but berries.  We enjoy nuts, meats, healthy fats, organic, non refined coconut oil, non-starchy vegetables, coconut and almond flour treats.

We’ve learned “why not” of the foods we chose to eliminate by reading Wheat Belly by Dr. William Davis.  I could spend hours here explaining why not.  I won’t get on the soapbox.  I do that enough around my tolerant friends and family.  If you’re interested, read the blog, then the book.  

Then, the next miracle occurred in the search for great health. Months later, still frustrated with my seemingly useless exercise routine, I stumbled across The Smarter Science of Slim by Jonathan Bailor.

Everything changed.  This book is not a book of an author’s opinion (nor is Wheat Belly).  It is backed by 1100 research studies conducted by scientists at Harvard and other universities as to why our diet and exercise routine is not working and, the world is getting fatter and sicker than ever.

The Smarter Science of Slim by Jonathan Bailor provides the otherwise complicated studies (70 pages of references in the back of the book) to prove that “eating less and exercising more” is not working.  

In bite sized, manageable pieces Jonathan gives us an exciting and easy read, driving the reader to immediately jump up and start the amazing workout routine that truly requires only 10 minutes, two times a week.  Hard to believe! Backed by science! Endorsed by scientists at Harvard!

In the exercise world, it is referred to as HIIT, high intensity interval training. It’s a killer 10 minutes, I assure you, pumping your own natural under-used life enhancing hormones to run through your body producing a powerful euphoric and energizing sensation, lasting for days, working to grow and strengthen cells and muscles.

After only three short months of one 10 minute workout, twice a week, I am more fit, more muscular, in better overall condition than I have ever been in my entire life.  My pants fit better, I breathe deeper, I sleep more soundly and I’m able to prepare for our upcoming adventure, able to haul my share of the heavy bags, an impossible feat only months ago.

The food portion of The Smarter Science of Slim by Jonathan Bailor has been easy for me. I had already cut out, what Jonathan refers to as “insane” foods. And, most importantly, I discovered that a vital element was missing from our diet, enough lean protein sources and non-starchy vegetables.

By adding a healthy portion of cottage cheese and green veggies to my protein rich breakfast, protein and veggies snacks and meals and enjoying a giant bowl of plain Fage Greek Yogurt with nuts and berries for dessert at night, I have increased my protein intake from a meager 50 grams a day to 160 grams a day.

I am a new person at 64 years old. If I wasn’t already slim, I would definitely be losing weight. Instead, I eat nuts by the handful to maintain my current weight. For the first time, my metabolism is increasing. I am now able to consume at least 25% more food, finally feeling full!

Jonathan explains how we’ve been slaves to calories and how “a calorie is not a calorie.” There is required no-carb, no-calorie and no-point counting. This is not a quick fix diet. This is not a faddish tricky program that requires strict adherence to peculiar combinations or types of food. It is a simple concept, backed by science, to “eat more and exercise less” while enjoying short but intense workouts and healthy portions of nutrient rich foods as often as you are hungry.

Many who read this will say they can’t give up sweets, bread, corn and potatoes. My life depended on it. It is not a struggle. I am no longer hungry. Nutrient rich food is satisfying the hunger I could never seem to fill.

When man roamed the earth foraging for food, he hunted meat, dug up roots, picked berries and nuts while exploring vegetation fit for consumption. Our bodies are destined for this way of eating. For example, it is no different from our dogs who, by nature are designed to eat meat. Give them cereals, grains and corn in their food and they too become sick, sluggish and overweight.

The topic of this blog will not change to the topic of fitness. It will continue to be abundant in the realities of mine and Tom’s everyday life as we leave behind everything and everyone we have known and loved for all of our lives, as we travel the world for years to come.

It will include how we find foods we choose to enjoy to continue to maintain our health. Of course, wherever we may be, I will continue my two weekly workouts, 10 minutes each!It was important to share this piece of our lives with our readers to illustrate how more meaningful this adventure has become for us, having overcome enormous health obstacles, only possible with the years-long diligent research of a few highly knowledgeable and professional individuals dedicated to science.

We are wiser. We are healthier. We are grateful. We are now able to travel the world hauling way too many bags!