The reason you haven't gotten the next blog

Monday, February 25, 2019

Hilton Hotel

Frankfurt, Germany

Well, I debated about whether to post this blog, but finally decided. To be intellectually honest I need to share all the experiences...the good, the bad, and the ugly...or I might as well hang up my spurs. For those of you who are along for the ‘feel good” ride, stop reading. This ain’t it.

Time-wise I'm writing in real time. It’s Monday in Frankfurt. What was supposed to be a day of rest. But here’s the whole story.

As I was writing my two blogs for Cape Town I was experiencing the early stages of the epizutus. That’s my scientific name to translate the doctors’ scientific name for “something we don’t know what you have, and we can’t fix it so we’ll call it a virus.” epizutus is a lot shorter.

This version of the epizutus started the day we were leaving the retreat with a dry, persistent cough. By evening it had progressed down into my chest, and I was coughing almost non-stop. By this time it had gotten productive (read coughing up huge amounts of phlem) and my nose was running non-stop. My energy level was going downhill fast and the more I coughed the more exhausted I became. By this time my ribs and chest were hurting and every cough was like a knife.

Finally I gave in and called the hotel doctor. (Yeah. I know. Day late and a dollar short. What else can you expect from an alpha male.) He was a jovial chap, who gave me a thorough examination and announced I wasn’t contagious and could travel. “Probably caught it from somebody on the plane. Ho, Ho, Ho. Just give it back to them. Ho, Ho, Ho.) One package of Loratadine (Claritin with a fancy name) and a package of “good old ibuprofen.” I’m doctored up.”Oh. I’ve included an antibiotic. By the time you get to Frankfurt if it’s turned green start taking these.” “2,600 rand please.” “Have a good trip.”

Made the plane (9:50pm,) got loaded onboard and crashed. At least as much as you can crash when you’re racked with coughing every few minutes. My seat mate seemed oblivious, and nobody else gave me those” why the hell don’t you disappear” looks and I spent a night drifting in and out of--at best--a restless nap.

Arriving at Frankfurt was another matter, but I’ll cover that in a later blog.

At about 7:00am I checked into the Hilton. Yes, my room was ready. If I wanted to check in now it would be an additional €450. Otherwise I could wait until 2:00pm regular check in time for the regular rate. Duh! Standing in front of the desk sounding like a locomotive with a bad check valve I chose Door Number One! Yea!!! No tigers!!

Since then I have crashed in the room. On the way up the porter arranged to get me some Riccola cough drops which I have been sucking down like they were Jelly Bellys. By mid-afternoon, not feeling any better, I called the desk and asked them to send up their house doctor.

Guess what. The Hiltton Airport at Frankfurt does not have a hotel doctor!!! No. Let’s put a few more exclamation points. No doctor!!!!!! Oh, they had one if this was an ‘EMERGENCY.’ Did I wish to declare an emergency? H**L NO! I just want to get well! “We can make arrangements to transport you to the hospital.”

Hospitals. That’s where well people go to die. What a fun multi-thousand €s that would be. Thanks, but no thanks.

Pulling my last bit of energy together I grabbed my poles and walked the length of “The Whale” to the pharmacy. There a young lady recommended Silomat for nighttime to stop the coughing, and CeloMyrtol for the next day as an expectorant to bring up what was left of my lungs….sorry what was left IN my lungs.” I gratefully took both, along with some Voltarin to ease the muscle pains from coughing so much.

By the way. Both the meds are herbal. Three kudos for European remedies.

They’ve worked well enough for me to write this, but now I’m crashing again.

The retreat was such a high I want to be in top notch shape when I try to share with you about it, so, sorry. It’ll have to wait until I get home. Superman has left the building.

EPILOGUE

For those of you who are saying to yourselves, "I hope he's staying hydrated." Yes, he is. If you who made the Germany trip with me you'll know hat I mean when I say I'm drinking Mezzo Mix by the gallon. (Insert here: supersized emoji smacking lips with eyes rolled back in head with delight!) There are some blessing to pampering yourself when you're a sickie baby.

Thanks for traveling with me….good and bad.

Till then….

Blessings and Peace!