The Malady Pneumonia, Seriously, Folks

 

malady - noun - disease or ailment 

A few months before I picked up the malady pneumonia via the HVAC system sixty-five days into a world cruise, I was told I should get vaccinated for pneumococcal pneumonia. Of course, I agreed because I mean, who wants to get sick while on vacation? What I didn't bother to do was read the fine print, meaning educate myself as to the vaccine's promises and accomplishments. Like what all should do before voting for a political candidate. After all, ignorance (not even the blissful variety) has never been proven to be worthwhile. According to the Centers for Disease Control, the "vaccination reduces the incidence of severe invasive pneumonia." Ah, huh. "Reduces" is a key word here. "Refuses" does not mean that it prevents the incidence of the disease, just that it minimizes the chances that 1. you will die or 2. you will wind up in a hospital for a week or more. 3. you will get double pneumonia, a death sentence. Admittedly, if I had read the fine print, I still would've been pricked. But I also might have been more vigilant and thought twice about engaging in risky behaviors, such as diving into an ice-cold pool while in Melbourne, Australia. (My spirit is way younger than my body.)

In case you have been lucky enough to steer clear of pneumonia, I will say that it isn't pretty. Although I have been fortunate enough not to have contracted COVID, according to my friends who have had it, in most cases, it isn't as bad as pneumonia. When I was 36, I wound up with walking pneumonia and pleurisy, a difficult combination as the latter is extremely painful. Back in 1995, when you came down with the duo, you went to a doctor who prescribed antibiotics and codeine, a narcotic opioid that was once used to reduce pain and coughing. It worked like a charm. Unfortunately, due to the addictive nature of it, it is no longer widely prescribed albeit I was able to procure a generic version of Tylenol with codeine on the ship, which really helped me, especially to sleep. (And no, I did not become addicted to it.) Naturally because I was young and resilient the first time I had the malady, I was up and out of bed within days. I even mustered the strength and courage to leave my narcissistic husband who, during my illness, had refused to get up off the couch to help me care for our daughter who was four at the time. (There is always a silver lining in the cloud.)

This time around, my body is just too mature to be able to shake off the malady easily. After over a month since the initial symptom of major congestion arose, I am not coughing as much, the mucus is not as bad, the pain in my ribcage from violent bouts of uncontrollable coughing is not as severe, and I breathe a bit easier now that my lung is pretty much clear. Yet the fatigue is still present. I have felt terrible for so long, I am not even certain as to what feeling good looks like. And I am afraid to leave my apartment as my immune system has been compromised. I will just have to see what the doctor says tomorrow and then will have to jump back into risk taking mode, something I've grown to be good at yet not entirely successful at.

What can I say? It sucks to be this sick, and my heart bleeds for people who are in much worse shape than I am because over time (six months?), I know I will be fine. But others may not. I'm not complaining. I am still kicking, albeit maybe not as high as I used to because I find myself out of breath after doing it. 

Actually, on the flip side, I am thankful. If I had never gotten the vaccine, chances are I might not have survived, or I might have wound up all alone in a malaria-infested hospital in Bangkok. So there is definitely something to be said for getting vaccinated. (So there, Mr. Kennedy.)

#pneumonia, #diseases, #vaccines, #health, #blog, #blogger 

A Not-So-Steep Learning Curve

 

learning curve - noun - a measurement in the rate of progress re: learning a new skill. A steep curve indicates high difficulty, whereas shallow curve points to the opposite (Reddit). 

If you happen to be blessed with common sense, you can often tame a steep learning curve. Perhaps not when it comes to mastering chess, however. But if you take a risk to learn via experience and can put two and two together, chances are it may be easy for you to walk away with knowledge worthy of sharing.

For those of you who followed my progress when I was on the world cruise, you know that at day 60 into the 114, I wound up contracting pneumonia from a faulty HVAC system on the Coral Princess and disembarked five days later in Bangkok, Thailand only to arrive back home in L.A. some twenty hours later via a United Airlines flight. But what you may not know is what I learned from the interrupted journey. 

I, a.k.a. "Girl interrupted," can honestly say that the gains from the risks of going on such an adventure far out number the losses. The trip itself represented a not-so-steep learning curve. The most important takeaway was that 2,000 international peoples (a cross section of Earth) with a common interest (travel), and perhaps a common language (English), can live in a small space (118,00 square feet), comparatively speaking, peacefully. Yes, when put in just the right situation, humans of all religions and political affiliations can get along, something the politicians may never quite comprehend.

Another tidbit of knowledge that I walked away with is that the Pacific Ocean is so incredibly vast. If you travel by jet, you can't get an idea of the size of it and of the world in general. Travel via cruise ship is worth any price so that you can understand how small you (and your problems) are compared to the greatness (and complications) of the planet. (F.Y.I.: Humility is not a bad trait to embrace.)

Another significant insight I now grasp is that the natural beauty of the world is so divine that it is worth saving, no matter the cost. I visited 26 ports in about twelve countries on three continents, or roughly half of the globe in terms of mileage. The most spectacular to the eye was French Polynesia. That said, global warming is taking its toll on the wildlife. (Yes, it is a reality.) An avid snorkeler for the past fifty years, I noticed when underwater that the number and types of marine life have diminished compared to when I spent time exploring depths from the surface in the Caribbean during the 1970s and 1980s. The water is getting simply too warm for many of the creatures, and they are becoming extinct.

So that's all I can think of right now, but I'm sure I could unearth more if I had more time. In summary, the aforementioned were not hard to come up with as I kept my eyes and heart open and common sense turned to "on." 

In parting, I will leave you with this: Nothing is ever lost even if you have to jump ship midstream. 

#travel, #cruise, #vacation, #knowledge, #common sense, #blog, #blogger

An Inopportune End to the Cruise

 

inopportune - adjective - something happening at a poorly timed, unsuitable, or inconvenient moment. (Dictionary.com)

The funny thing about life is that no matter how well a lubricated engine may be running, a wrench can fall into the mechanism at any time and cause rod knock, the inopportune cessation of forward motion, the immediate end to all "best-laid plans of mice, men," and a sixty-seven-year-old retired woman. 

For those of you who have been following the progress of my 115-day world cruise via this blog, you might have noticed that the piece about Bali was my last entry, which was a couple of weeks ago. Somewhere between March 10th, when the initial symptom of congested sinuses appeared and my diagnosis of pneumonia (so much for the vaccine) ten days later, the wrench fell and the trajectory of my trip changed radically. My illness most likely resulted from lack of sleep (my bed was right above a drum set in one of the late-night lounges) and the bacteria-infested HVAC system onboard that my fellow passengers felt comfortable enough to cough directly into. Unfortunately, I spent about five hours over five days and six thousand dollars charged to my credit card in the medical center of the Coral Princess, lapping up intravenously fed antibiotics while occasionally noticing the changes of scenery from out of a porthole by the hospital bed. Portions of Kuala Lumpur (the lackluster terminal at the port), Penang (a beautiful, mountainous city not unlike Rio), Singapore (a view of Korean cruise ship), Ko Samui (Thailand's Caribbean), and Bangkok (too far inland to be seen from my viewpoint). As the generic potion being fed was doing more harm than good to my body (it gave me heart palpitations and minor convulsions), I was forced to make a decision between two potentially hazardous options: 1. Be ferried and admitted into the nearest hospital in Bangkok 2. Have my daughter find me a flight out of Bangkok to L.A. As the first was so much more risky than the second, I went with the second as there was no way I was going to be left alone in a Thai hospital teaming with way more lethal illnesses like malaria than basic pneumonia. Although the ship's doctor did not agree with my choice, I signed the right waver thereby putting my life into my own hands, which is where it should have been anyway considering the circumstances. 

The next day, I found myself at the mercy of an Uber driver, a young Thai woman and her sleeping child who lay shotgun in the front seat. The driver did not speak much English but understood where she was taking me, nearly 1.5 hours from the port. Averaging 40 KPH over the speed limit, she got me to the airport (with a name way too long to mention or pronounce) forty minutes later. Needless to say, anything worth seeing sped by so fast that I could only make out blurred outlines of tropical swamp land, warehouses, innumerable trucks, and a rest stop of all American fast food restaurants. Only the signage reflected an Asian country. The airport was chaotic: six lanes of traffic, single cars stopping to unload mid-flow in any one of the lanes, a departures terminal that looked like a string of about four Costcos put together, and no curbside porters. Just carts and chaos. My driver lugged my one huge suitcase from 1986 onto a chart, and once inside, I wheeled it in and out of towering Asian icons until I found the United Airlines counter in row G. Luckily, I had spent the big bucks to buy a premium ticket, which included a wheelchair, a true lifesaver as my gate was probably about a mile from the check-in counter. The trek on foot would have killed me. To make a long story somewhat shorter, I was wheeled right onto the plane which first flew to Hong Kong (another port that I was scheduled to visit on the cruise) and then to L.A., some twenty hours later. I had not been as happy to be on American soil since 1976 after returning from a month-long concert tour of Communist Poland.

So my number-one-bucket-list dream trip went from the sublime to the virulent within a matter of days. What's left is a litany of insurance forms to file that will hopefully result in a partial refund and many more antibiotics to take as I recline in my bed, virtually quarantined for the next three weeks. At least I'm not dead...yet. Either way, I will take with me more than one vintage suitcase of wonderful memories of around 23 exotic ports of perfection and about four new life-long friends. Priceless. 

Do I have any regrets? No. Would I do things differently if I had the chance? Yes. I would spend a few thousand more and reserve a room with a balcony so that I could have peace, quiet, and access to fresh air. And by the way, I don't recommend that you take a Princess cruise in the near future unless you have an immune system made of steel. Just sayin'. 

#travel, #PrincessCruises, #pneumonia, #Bangkok, #blog, #blogger, #personal essay