This past weekend, The Mister and I traveled to Richmond Hill to celebrate the 70th birthday of my eldest sister with my two other sisters and their respective spouses. This was a very big deal for me, because chronic fatiguers like myself can become easily overtaxed when they travel, and that can lead to a long, frustrating recovery period, something I desperately wanted to avoid.
We were looking at a four hour drive, and our little puddle-jumper does not have air conditioning or cruise control. I told The Mister, “Pa, I don’t cotton to drivin’ 401 with the windows down, ‘n breathin’ in all them fumes and listenin’ to all that noise. No sir. Don’t cotton to it one bit!” The Mister replied, “‘N I don’t hanker to drive a car that’s too lazy to drive itself,” by which he meant “without cruise control.”
So what to do?
We thought about car rental, but that got more expensive and more inconvenient the more we looked into it. Finally The Mister said, “I could ask Brother if’n he’d lend us his car fer the trip.” And I said, “Now, that’d be right nice if’n he would.”
Turns out Brother was only too pleased to lend us the car, a Chrysler 300, (a big’n!) and our travel problems disappeared! It was a lovely drive up and back, comfortable and quiet.
And the hospitality in Richmond Hill is second to none! The food! Oh, the food! My second eldest sister and her husband are both accomplished cooks, and the birthday feast was magnificent! At one point my stomach said, “Check your pulse right now!”
“Why?”
“‘Cuz I think you’ve just died and gone to heaven!”
“No, no, it’s just the food!”
Staying overnight presented one more hurdle, and one that, sadly, I didn’t negotiate very well. It seems I cannot sleep in a strange bed, a description my sister objected to: “The bed isn’t strange,” she hastened to correct. “The bed is normal. I can’t speak for the people sleeping in it, but the bed itself is normal.” Ah yes. Thanks for the clarification.
I got maybe three hours of shuteye, and wondered how I would manage the birthday brunch and the four hour ride home. The party was fine, but I could feel the needle on my energy tank was hovering in the red zone by the time we pulled into our driveway. I took a quick shower, and then started talking to The Mister about our plans for the next day.
He said, “Do you realize you’re swaying back and forth as you talk?”
“I am?” I looked down at my feet. “Oh yeah. Look at that.”
He turned me around and gave me a gentle shove towards the bedroom. “You maybe want to go and lie down now?” he asked.
I did. I really did.
I slept nine hours. I wish I could say I slept straight through, but Mother Nature thinks it’s just hilarious to wake me up at 2 a.m. by squeezing my bladder. Haw haw. (The Mister thinks I must have prostate issues. He, on the other hand, sleeps through the night.) Mind you, I went right back to sleep after my bathroom visit, so haw haw HAW Mother Nature!
The next day, I had energy to spare! The Mister decided to wash the car before giving it back to Brother, and that tuckered him out. A nap restored him to his usual ebullient self, though. And then last night, another nine hours for the both of us! We’re sleeping like teenagers again! And there’s been no relapse into my chronic fatigue! Woo hoo! And thank you God!
No, really – thank you God!
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