I'm cleaning off my desk today and have a little stack of tourist stuff from our recent vacation to South Carolina. I realize I never wrote about this trip, which surprises me. It deserves to be documented for starting out so poorly but ending up not being a disaster after all.
Hub and I arranged to take Son One and his family on this trip with us. We chose a resort on Hilton Head where we had stayed a few years ago and thought it would be perfect for a family vacation and only an hour away from Savannah GA where my sis-in-law, nephew, and niece and her family all live. Since Hub and I lived off the shore of Charleston S.C., on the Isle of Palms for two years in the early 80s, going there every so often also holds a nostalgic vibe for us. Two years is not long, but it was a transformative time in our younger lives and made an outsized impact on us. Anyway, he and I left a few days early to spend time in Charleston before heading to Hilton Head.
Hub got up not feeling great on travel day. He is generally a happy flyer (unlike me) and we had sprung for the upgraded seats that came with drinks, which he finds to be a nice perk. He was pretty quiet at the airport, complaining of stomach ache. On the flight he sat upright, rigid, not eating OR drinking OR interacting in any way -- just trying to endure the 5-1/2 hour flight, eyes closed.
Off the plane we waited and waited for our luggage, realizing at long last that one suitcase was not gonna show up on the conveyor belt. After checking with the airline, it was confirmed that bag was still in Seattle. Damn. Hub was miserable by this time and just wanted to get to the hotel, but we had to fill out lost luggage paperwork and still pickup our rental car.
Once finally at the hotel, our assigned room with a great view reeked so strongly of chemical cleaner that we couldn't imagine sleeping in it. The Marriott prides itself on "new enhanced cleaning technologies" (whatever that means) but that was ridiculous! We trooped back to the front desk to request a different room, which took awhile to arrange since they were nearly full with the convention of an NFL security organization, everyone wearing team logos. We finally got a new room, with a crappy view, and two Queens instead of a King, but we were able to breathe. Hub went straight to bed in agony. I took the other bed feeling he'd sleep better alone. (Or I would....but I didn't.)
Hub being ill is such a rare event that I was concerned. He was obviously in pain, unable to get comfortable. He tossed and turned for hours until at 4 a.m. he said he felt he should go to the E.R. This was a startling turn of events. Hub suggesting an E.R. visit made me think he was at death's door. We got dressed and I drove him to the Medical University of South Carolina (MUSC), where he had actually been on staff all those many years ago. Deja Vu. But this time he was the patient. He suspected a bowel obstruction or pancreatitis. I was too uninformed about the perils of those possible diagnoses to be as worried as I could have been...me with the diagnosed medical anxiety that turns me into a worst case scenario scaredy cat at the mere mention of a possible health issue.
No E.R. visit is fast or easy, so even though they were not busy, we were there for 5-1/2 hours. Exams, tests, scans, waiting, waiting, waiting.... Finally we were told everything looked normal and nothing life-threatening was going on. During the course of things, Hub had started to spontaneously feel a bit better; not great, but better, with less pain. We don't know what caused his symptoms exactly. Maybe something he ate, but it wasn't the classic puking/pooping food poisoning response. It was just lots of pain and bloating, indicating blockage, but there was no blockage.
He was discharged and we went back to the hotel to sleep most of the day, only venturing out to the deli at the Publix grocery store across the street to get him some nice bland chicken soup for supper. On the way back we intercepted our lost suitcase being delivered to the hotel. Our visit to Charleston was not as we'd planned but we were grateful he was not admitted with a serious illness. Thirty-six hours into our trip things were finally looking up.
The next day we drove out to the Isle of Palms, past our old house, and took a walk on "our" beach, still so beautiful. Then we headed to Hilton Head, 2-1/2 hours away, grateful we weren't still at MUSC fighting an infection, or worse. We looked forward to welcoming our family to join us the next day with hope that a whole week together would be as much fun as it seemed it would be in our imaginations; one never knows.
At least, that's the view from here...©
