Category: Uncategorized

by Penguin Scott

I’m not used to feeling uneasy when coming home to visit my parents. It’s not a sensation I much enjoy. It’s sort of like being back at the scene of a crime, but no crime was committed here. This is where I got sick two years ago. But to say I got sick makes it sound like I got a minor cold. This wasn’t just any illness. It was the type of event that was life-changing, and being back here brings about so many memories- as if it happened just a few months ago.

I remember how it started very well. I was home for Thanksgiving with the family. The house was full and some had to stay in a hotel. I bunked at night on a foldout couch in the downstairs living room. We’re a loud group of people when in a house together, and it’s a lot of fun. We played games, shared photos, laughed and contemplated the manner in which we should deep fry our bird without burning the house down. It was like so many other holiday gatherings before, with my grandmother and her daughters in the kitchen, the men sitting around the living room and the cousins downstairs playing and gossiping almost as much as the adults.

Hiking on my parent’s property in Colorado

My parents live in Colorado on mountainous acreage. On the first day of my visit, a group of us took a long hike on the property, which left me a bit winded. The next day I felt a pressure in my chest, very much like the one felt after a day of exertion, so I didn’t think much of it. The situation worsened to where I started feeling light headed, complete with a headache. I looked up the symptoms of altitude sickness on my laptop. I had them all except that I was not nauseous. So again, I didn’t do anything about it…this, too would pass. But for the moment, I was feeling badly enough that I stayed home while the family all went to a dinner outing, complete with live music.

Wednesday night, Thanksgiving Eve, I had developed red spots on my arms and legs- they didn’t itch, but were a little sore to the touch. I went to bed feeling ill. I’d felt worse in my life, but I’d never felt anything quite like this. It was such that as I fell asleep, I began thinking about how difficult it would be for someone to close out my life in my absence. Certainly, that person would be my mom, having to go through all my belongings back home. I started to think of all my passwords to the various sites I use on the internet; banking, work, social sites. I didn’t know how sick I was about to become…but somehow I did, and my mind seemed to be preparing me for the worst.

The next day my family drove me to the emergency room. I was short of breath, my head hurt and the pain in my chest was incredible. The spots on my legs hurt, making it very hard to walk. Tests were administered and my body was poked and prodded. I was told it was not altitude sickness, and honestly, two years later, I no longer recall what the initial diagnosis was, but in the end, I was sent home with instructions to drink a lot of liquids and get some rest. The family, who had been jammed in my parent’s home for a few days in close proximity, was terrified that I might be contagious. I felt badly, praying that I wasn’t, for their sake.

By the time I returned home, Thanksgiving dinner was about to be served. Because of how I felt, and possibly from fear of being near me, I wound up eating on a TV tray in the living by myself. I had no seconds that Thanksgiving. In fact, I didn’t finish what was on my plate. Nothing tasted good to me. Everyone else praised the green bean casserole, dressing, desserts and the fact that the house hadn’t burned down with the tasty deep fried turkey. I picked at my plate, not really tasting much of anything.

By the time I went to bed, the spots on my body had spread to my neck and chest. They were very sore and getting out of bed was quite difficult. This was very problematic for me, as with drinking the amount of liquids required by the doctor, I had to get up often to use the restroom. If I hadn’t understood what my body was telling me the night before, it was becoming much clearer at this point.

Sunset at my parent’s ranch

On Friday, I felt worse than I had ever felt in my life. I couldn’t get out of bed without a great deal of pain and I was no longer interested in drinking anything. I needed to return to the emergency room. Once that happened, and another examination by the same doctor as the day before, they felt it imperative that I be transferred to a hospital in Colorado Springs. This was partly because the little mountain hospital was not equipped to handle my condition, but also to get me to a lower altitude, which the doctor thought was necessary.

I’m not sure how long I waited to be transferred while lying in that dark room. I was forced to listen to a woman have a total freak out (mostly likely drug-induced) in a room nearby. It was very dramatic, but I was happy to be left alone as everyone else’s attention was on her. I remember seeing the concerned faces of my aunt, uncle and Dad as I was eventually loaded into the ambulance. I also remember how smooth the ride in the ambulance was. That must have been a very expensive vehicle!

I spent the next five days in the hospital. Mom brought me a few magazines and puzzles, as people do. I had my own room with a nice TV on an arm that pivoted to whatever position I needed. I wished I wasn’t so far from my network of friends, who surely would have come to visit.

I never read the magazines. I watched about an hour of TV during my entire stay. I fell asleep when Mom came to visit, so any other visitors would have been a waste of effort. My time was spent sleeping and that was frequently disturbed for numerous reasons; the first of which was that any time I moved, the pain from the red spots all over my body was intense enough to wake me. I was also constantly disturbed by nurses coming in to take blood and administer meds. And it was creepy; I was isolated with an unknown disease, so anyone entering my room had to do so wearing a mask and gown. For the first few days, I didn’t know what anyone looked like.

Having never been in the hospital before, I quickly gained a new respect for nurses. I was well cared for and everyone I encountered had a really nice bedside manner. They were proactive in dealing with the pain I felt. My only issue was that many of the people who came into my room tended to leave without moving my table back to where I could reach it. The pain was such that reaching for it, something I would normally be able to do very easily, was out of the question. I found myself constantly asking people to move my table closer to me before they left the room. Mom thought I was being unreasonable. But being alone in a room and not able to reach for water to quench my dry mouth- well, it was the one thing I had that was normal.

The illness peaked on the third night of my stay in the hospital when my temperature reached 106. At first, I was so cold that they layered me in warm blankets. They felt very good, which was odd for me, since I normally don’t like warm things on me. But soon they removed my warm blankets and started covering me in ice. This upset me and I let them know about it. Up until this point, my attractive nurse with the Australian accent was my favorite nurse. At the point at which she started icing me down, however, I was less than thrilled with her.

My head hurt so badly, I felt as if I were wearing a pain-hat that extended a foot further than my head in all directions. I kept the blinds closed during the day, ignoring what was a wonderful view. I picked at the food, even though I was able to select it from a menu. I’d not emptied my bowels in days. I faded in and out. One night, I woke up thinking it was morning and that I’d slept all night, a first, and thought I was over the worst of it. Turned out, it was only 10PM and I’d only been asleep for an hour. I began to cry. It was the worst I had ever felt in my life, and I suddenly had a thought…so this is how I die.

For four days I stayed in bed, not able to stand, and barely able to turn over. I slept. I moaned a lot. During my stay, I endured a spinal tap and a biopsy and had enough blood taken to fill a new human body, or so it seemed. I endured hell. At one point the pain was such that I asked the nurse to put me in a coma. But in the end I lived, and when I finally got home, I started thinking, well, that wasn’t as bad as I had made it out to be. Surely I had been nowhere near death. Maybe I had over reacted.

Not looking too happy in my hospital bed

That’s what I thought until a month later when seeing a specialist about some lingering effects of my viral syndrome, as they were now calling it. He looked over my notes and looked up at me and said, “You’re lucky to still be with us. Most people die with a temperature that high.” So it really was as bad as I had thought when lying in that hospital bed. And I think my body knew it as early as Thanksgiving Eve.

Many doctors and specialists were involved in my case. No answers were ever found. Every test came back negative. I was amazed to learn, that in our modern medical age, there are still thousands of viruses that afflict people and we have no idea of what they are. It was never discovered how I got sick or where I contracted the virus. It was indeed known that I had a virus. They did learn that my red spots were a separate disorder; normally brought on by a viral condition (my friends called it Penguin Pox). But they could only call what I had, a viral syndrome; a sort of catch-all term simply to give what I had a label of some sort.

A look at my “Penguin Pox”

And two years later I still have issues with being fatigued. It was a whole year before the symptoms of being light headed and dizzy went away. The cold of winter bothered me, where I normally love the cold, and my thinking has never been as clear as it was before the illness. I often forget what I’m saying. There are times I struggle with my health and feelings and wonder if I shouldn’t have died in that hospital.

So here I am, back in Colorado to visit my parents. I’ve been back a few times since then. The first time was very awkward for me; sleeping in the bed I went to right after the hospital and sitting on the couch I had slept on that night when going over computer passwords in my head. The living room has been rearranged, but the bedroom is the same and reminds me so much of the first few days being home after nearly dying.

I’m lucky to be alive and to have caring friends and family for support. As much as I never hope to endure such pain ever again, I feel richer for the experience of coming so close to death. In fact, only a few months after getting sick, it was discovered that I also had skin cancer. I thought it was odd that I was to survive the hospital only to face death again with melanoma. It was also interesting that after all the poking and prodding, no one ever noticed the black irregular-shaped mole on my stomach. No, the cancer didn’t affect the viral syndrome, but the virus is was what led to the discovery of the cancer.

In the end, the nearly fatal virus saved my life. I’m currently cancer-free, but my body is different now. I feel older. I used to enjoy perfect health. Now I have high blood pressure and cholesterol. The fatigue keeps me from being as active as I once was. It’s annoying that I make these complaints to my doctors, and often hear them reply that I’m getting older, but it’s got to be more than just my age that has brought all of this about. Something happened to me in that hospital-something that began to afflict me at home in Colorado. I may be uneasy about getting older and reliving these memories while visiting my parents, but it’s certainly good to be alive!

***************************************************************************

Want to read more? I wrote about some of the vivid images I had in my head while I was in hospital and poem about being on morphine. You can read that blog here:
http://penguinlust.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2009-01-01T00:00:00-08:00&updated-max=2010-01-01T00:00:00-08:00&max-results=9

* A link to my cruise photos follows.

I’ve been going around for a while saying it’s been about 3 years since my last cruise. It was my first time to cruise. I had found a nice 5 day trip from San Juan, so I went out a few days early to stay with a friend of mine who owns a bed and breakfast a short drive from there. I loved it so much; it has made me a true fan of setting sail on a large boat over the oceans of our planet. Imagine my surprise at learning that it was 4 years, almost to the date, and not three, since that Eastern Caribbean cruise. It’s no wonder I’ve been drooling over cruise ships and talking to my friends about going for over a year now.

So I finally put my foot down and decided that I was going to go again, even if I had to do so on my own. I went on my first cruise by myself, but on the first night I ran into a co-worker and her friend, and I had company the whole week. My biggest hurdle in cruising is finding someone to go with; either friends have the time and no money, or the money and no time.

I had the time off. I had a special cruise savings account with plenty of money to cover the low deals I was getting for working in the travel industry, and to cover the other fees needed to cruise; tips, taxes transportation and souvenirs. And almost at the last minute, I found a friend to go with me. Finally, after four long years, I would be sailing again.

So at two weeks out I booked an 8-day, 7-night cruise from Miami on Carnival. I spent the next two weeks going out of my mind in anticipation. I spent hours each day researching the ship and reviews from past travelers. I looked through people’s photo albums and viewed videos from Youtube. I found sample menus, looked at excursions and discussed various topics on several forums. When I actually walked on the ship in person, I felt like I’d been there before!

With my bags packed my journey started the day before our ship set sail. It would do so at 4pm on the last Saturday in February and I wanted to make sure I would be on it and not stuck in some airport with winter delays. I had found a nice hotel near the airport that offered free transportation when I arrived, and that also had a free shuttle to the port the next day. Several hotels offered such a shuttle, but the main reason I chose this particular hotel was because their port shuttle left before the others, and I was in such a hurry to get on board…

My friend, Loren, had travel credits on another airline so he flew in a few hours after I did. And since that airline didn’t fly into Miami, he had to fly into Ft. Lauderdale and take a van. We were so excited when he did arrive. It was like the vacation was finally a reality; our trip was finally going to begin!

We got little sleep that night from all of our anticipation. But we were up early for our complimentary breakfast and to be in line for the shuttle. The mood for the cruise was set on the van to the port from our hotel. There were several ships docked so the van had a few stops to make. The first ship had only 2 people getting off, a couple in their 60s. The husband started towards the door of the van but had left a bag behind so his wife began calling his name. Not hearing her, he continued towards the front when she finally shouted, “Hey, dumb-ass!” Not only did it get his attention, but every married man in the van turned his head!

We arrived at the port by 1130 and boarded the Carnival Liberty around 1230. It seems fast, to think we got through security and check-in in just an hour. But it seemed like it was taking forever! Unable to get into our rooms for another hour, we headed upstairs to the fish and chips restaurant and got lunch.

There were so many options for lunch on our ship. There was a burrito bar, a deli, a pizzeria that was open 24 hours, the fish and chips counter, the huge buffet, a grill for burgers, dogs, chicken strips and nachos and even free room service. It was like a challenge to see if one could experience all aspects of culinary delights that they offered on board! I did try them all but one. I never did eat lunch in the main buffet line. The burritos were great, and even included shrimp as a choice. Their fried oysters were so good that I had them at least 3 times that week. The pizza was OK, not as good as on my last voyage, but that was an Italian cruise line, so the bar was set very high. The burgers were decent and I loved the deli sandwiches.

I think what I love most about being on a cruise is the treatment I receive. It’s as if being treated like royalty. My stateroom is made up while I’m at breakfast and again at dinner, when they turn my bed down. On Carnival, we are welcomed in the evenings by elaborate towel sculptures on our bed, and chocolates. You are always entertained and constantly fed. Drinks are a little expensive, but I did very little of that on my trip; doctor’s orders.

The best part is dinner. I enjoy dressing up a bit in nice slacks and shirts and having a formal meal with linens and 4 courses and attentive service. The meals on board were very good. Some nights I found myself commenting that I’ve had better, but it certainly wasn’t bad. On lobster night, I ate 2. Most nights I couldn’t decide on the appetizer, so I had 2, or even 3. It’s also fun to try food I wouldn’t normally try, since it wasn’t costing me anything. And if I didn’t like it, I could just order something else! The one thing I found most disappointing with our meals were the desserts, which mostly were bland. Only a few I found decent enough to finish, but I was fine with that- after the huge meals, who needed a big dessert? Plus, the soft ice cream machine flowed 24 hours.

We ate each night with 2 lovely women, Melinda and Pam. They were sisters and were so very nice. Loren and I both enjoyed getting to know them. We were at a table for 8, but most nights it was just the 4 of us. On our second night, we finally met Rick and Tom, two buddies cruising together. Rick was a character, who kept talking of his wife, yet he wore no ring and seemed to flirt endlessly. Tom was single, but very quiet. Both were fishermen who looked forward to some deep sea fishing on our first stop in Cozumel.

I was a little disappointed in the rain that began to fall just as the ship brought in her lines to set sail from Miami. People scurried below decks, but Loren and I stuck it out, eventually finding a covered area on deck 10. The rain didn’t last long and we enjoyed the views leaving Miami for almost an hour before exploring the rest of the ship. That first night we sailed fast, going through a low pressure area with high winds and seas. All night the boat swayed up and down and from our room over the bow we often heard the ship slamming into waves with a hull-shaking thud and rattle of anything loose in the cabin. It was like slow motion turbulence on a plane, which I love. A few times it woke us up, once causing me to comment that it was like an earth quake! And when asked the next morning, about a third of those in the theater said they were experiencing some sea sickness. Fortunately, it never bothered me.

On day 2 at sea, we arrived in Cozumel as the sun was rising. I awoke in time to venture onto our balcony for photos. I had booked an interior stateroom, as I normally spend very little time in my room, so I have no need to spend the extra money on a view. However, we got an upgrade into a room with a picture window. It was over the bow, 2 levels below the bridge. It looked onto a large balcony, which very few people seemed to know about. It was almost like having our own private balcony! I spent a lot of time there, especially when we arrived at our various ports.

It was in Cozumel that Loren and I had our only official excursion. We had booked a tour to see the Mayan ruins of Tulum. We had to disembark at 0800, so we had secured a prearranged room service for breakfast and got some sandwiches as well to take as a snack on the tour. To get to Tulum, we rode a 45-minute ferry to the mainland, where we boarded a bus for our hour-long ride.

I was amazed at the beautiful clouds that morning when we arrived. Our tour guide was amazing. He was of Mayan ancestry, so was able to give us a very interesting account of their history, making sure to convey his belief that the Mayans disappeared because there were more people than what the land could support, so they abandoned their great cities and greedy rulers, leaving most everything behind.

The ruins were amazing and Manuel, our tour guide, explained their correlation to the sun and stars and the seasons. He showed us places on the ground where one can easily find pieces of pottery left over, but saying that it was bad luck to take any. There were numerous birds and iguanas and the sea breeze and ocean sounds were quite pleasant. I was glad to be visiting at a time when it’s not too hot, as I hear that Tulum can get quite warm.

After the tour we had some time on our own to look around, and then Loren’s agenda was to get a good Mexican taco. Manuel recommended a place so we returned to the bus area to give it a try. We both had a combination plate with a fish taco, a beef taco and a chicken quesadilla. All were very good and the margaritas were so strong that by the time I finished my 2nd one, I was a bit loopy. I slept almost the entire way back to Playa del Carmen for our return ferry.

We still had a lot of time and did some brief shopping before running into Tom and Rick, who were at a bar getting hammered. Tom showed off photos of the large mahi mahi that he had caught on their fishing trip and then we made our way back to the ship.

Loren and I were very much looking forward to snorkeling in Grand Cayman, our second stop. I had found a place within walking distance of our pier where there was a ship wreck over which we could snorkel. However, an early morning announcement informed us that due to strong winds and high seas in Georgetown, we were positioned in a different area of the island. Many tours were cancelled and we would not be able to snorkel over the Cali, due to the big waves. However, the area the ship was positioned was fairly calm. We took the tender to the island and asked about a place to snorkel. The lady told us of a public beach about a five minute walk. We set out for said beach and found it to be quaint, beautiful and a perfect location for snorkeling.

It wasn’t the prettiest snorkeling I’ve done, and the waves were a little intense at times. But I accomplished what I had set out to do. That was to see turtles, sting rays and lobster. Not only did I see these, but I saw a cuddle fish and a neat-looking flounder. It’s for times like these that I’m happy I have a waterproof camera and I even took some underwater video.

After getting out of the Caribbean waters, I found a nice shady spot to lounge in and met a family from San Diego. I took more photos of our ship, which was unable to actually anchor, due to the depth of the ocean, so it, and a few other ships, kept their positions by using their thrusters.

The following day we arrived in Ocho Rios, Jamaica as the sun was rising. It looked so colorful and inviting. But I found Ocho Rios to be a pain in the ass. Every three steps and we were accosted by someone new asking if we wanted a tour, if we wanted a taxi, if we wanted food or music, if we wanted ganja and I even was offered an 8-ball, which I think has something to do with cocaine.

I was more than happy to get back to the ship after our short little walk through town, where Loren picked up some Jamaican jerk for lunch. I was satisfied with the jerk I had at dinner the night before, so I ate on board, grabbing a tray of food and eating on a lounge chair on deck 10, which is where I spent most of my deck time on board, as it was shady there and I could keep out of the sun.

It was so nice to lounge on deck on our at-sea days. I’d take some reading, but it was often difficult to do much as I’m easily distracted by the people to watch. There were a lot of young people and people my age on board our cruise. There were also a lot of Canadians, escaping the winter. I loved meeting all the interesting people and hearing about their cruise experiences. I was also happy that Loren and I were content to be spending most of our days doing our own thing. It was the perfect balance of having a friend to go on excursions with and to enjoy the shows with, but being able to move freely and keep my own agenda on board. He loved playing bingo and I enjoyed the art auction and games, or going to high tea.

Each night we attended the shows in the large ornate theater. Most nights the shows were really good and offered song and dance numbers. One night we were entertained by a couple of guys who did comedy and juggling. The next morning at breakfast I actually heard someone use the term, “tomfoolery” in his review of that show! It was hilarious. On 2 nights there was a hypnotist. I’ve always been skeptical of these shows, not trusting that people are actually under. But I met a kid in the hot tub who said he really was looking for his belly button and couldn’t explain why he wanted to belly dance – and try to take his clothes off while doing so. Maybe it was for real, after all. But then, the next night I met one of the guys who said he wasn’t under and that he was just going along with it for the glory of being on stage.

Our cruise director was so energetic. His name was Butch and he appeared to be only in his thirties. He talked fast but often was quite humorous and ended most paragraphs by saying, “Ay?”. He even had us repeating ‘Ay’ every time he said it. He was from Minnesota, as were a lot of the American guests.

My biggest disappointment with this ship was the smoking policy on board. I had been looking forward to spending time in the disco at nights and in the piano bar and doing some karaoke. But in each of these bars, and a few others, they allowed smoking! I went to the desk to inquire; do they allow smoking every night, or are there some non-smoking nights? Nope, every night. And where were the non-smoking bars? One was in the main lobby, which is where all the octogenarians hung out with the lounge music. One was a bar that closed down at 11pm each night. And the other was the bar next to the casino, where the smoke was so intense you could hardly see the far wall! Not only that, but Carnival allows smoking in the state rooms (any interior cabin and any cabin with a balcony…and you can smoke inside the room, not just on the balcony!). This meant that in walking down the corridors, it was like walking through an ash tray. The ship often seemed like one, big, floating ash tray!

It was for this reason alone that I have told numerous people that I could never sail on Carnival again, not until they change their smoking policy. When I sailed on the Italian line (MSC) I was never bothered by smoke on board! It’s sad, too, as the ship was beautiful, the staff were friendly, the other passengers were fun and energetic and other than not being able to enjoy the night life on board, I had a really good time.

The week was over far too fast for me. I could have spent another week on board and now I am thinking one day, I’ll need to take a 2-week cruise! Loren was ready to get home, though, saying he was tired of eating! Yes, we lived like kings and ate like there was no tomorrow. Now I’m home, a bit depressed, and on a strict diet to lose the pounds I put on last week! But it was so worth it. And with more vacation coming to me in November, I am already putting out the word that I’m seeking cruise partners. Maybe the Mexican Riviera!

Here is a link to all my cruise photos:
http://www.kodakgallery.com/gallery/creativeapps/slideShow/Main.jsp?token=823345368211%3A274494334&sourceId=533754321803&cm_mmc=eMail-_-Share-_-Photos-_-Sharee