Not every adventure ends the way we expect it to end. Not every path leads where we think we want to go. In spite of this, we can find wisdom at the end of every trail.
In early June 2014, I had the great opportunity to travel to Sydney, Australia, with my best friend from childhood, Patty. She and I have traveled together many times for fun and sometimes for Rotary to places like Alaska, New Orleans, Cape Code, Montreal, Ecuador, and the Galapagos. We love each other and sometimes we annoy each other but always we emerge and remain as BFFs.
Our trip to Australia this year was for a Rotary International Convention. My husband had work commitments that prevented his going so Patty and I agreed to go together. With both of us Rotarians, we knew the convention would be meaningful and both of us had had Australia on our bucket list as a destination. Off Patty flew from SFO to Sydney. I traveled the next day, from Sacramento through LAX and into Sydney. This is no hop, skip, and a jump. It's 14 gruelingly long hours. Patty was able to upgrade to first class (ooh-la-la!) and I, well, I took an Ibuprofen PM capsule and slept upright a portion of the long night.
Our trip was memorable - seeing the highlights of Rotary, meeting people from all parts of the globe, learning about how many ways that Rotary does good in the world, most notable perhaps is our crusade to END POLIO NOW. We also had the opportunity to climb the Sydney Harbor Bridge at night, to see the fiery, changing lights of "VIVID SYDNEY," to explore a bit of the Blue Mountains, to tour the Sydney Opera House, to sing in the Rotary International Choir, and of course, to hug a koala.
On our final morning in Australia, as we packed our bags for the long flight home, we splurged with a room service breakfast. My flight was leaving earlier than Patty's so I wanted to be at the airport in plenty of time. We hopped in a cab (no tips to cabbies in Australia), enjoyed the scenic route out of the heart of the city, and made it to the airport with more than enough time to spare.
I checked my luggage and then Patty and I said our goodbyes until our next trip. I made my way toward customs when I was reminded to fill out my Declaration Form. Back to a ledge along the wall with pencils and forms available - ticket/flight information, passport information, trip information. Check. Back in line I went; when I approached the Customs Representative, she asked for my ticket and passport. I reached into my purse, pulled out my ticket, but alas, NO PASSPORT. I thought it must have fallen into the labyrinth of my purse's bottomless pit, but no. NO PASSPORT. I scrambled out of line, my breath becoming more shallow. I practically ran back to the ledges where I'd completed the form, all the while scanning the floor for my navy blue link to the USA. No luck. I retraced my steps to the front of the airport and asked at the Information Booth. They directed me to the basement of the airport where the Immigrations Office was located. My heart was beating faster than normal as I descended the stairs and waited my turn in line. When it was my turn, my voice choked, but I was able to tell them I had lost my passport. I had a copy of it in my suitcase, but that was already checked and on its way to the plane.
After about 30 minutes of checking with numerous contacts around the airport, my passport was, thankfully, located. I accompanied the gentleman from Immigrations to the location that had found it and then proceeded as quickly as possible toward the gate as now, it was fast approaching boarding time and I hadn't even been through Security. This time, I kept a firm grip on my purse, my ticket, and my passport. As I went through the Security screener, the buzzer sounded on my carry-on bag. What now? I wondered! In my rush, I had forgotten to remove my water bottles from my bag (or to drink them). OK. No harm. On my way. Just in time to board.
The return flight seemed more crowded than the flight over. Warmer, tighter. Instead of an aisle seat, I had a window seat but that meant it would be difficult to get in or out for getting to the rest room, getting a drink of water, or just walking around to stretch my legs. I figured that I would have a drink, eat dinner, take another Ibuprofen PM, and catch some shut-eye. It had worked fairly well coming over; I expected the same on this return.
After chatting it up with my seat mates - a bloke from Australia who worked for IBM, and an American woman married to an Aussie man who was returning to the US to attend to her dying sister - I enjoyed an O'Brien Pale Ale, an Australian beer, ate a tasteless meal with about two ounces of complementary Australian wine, and then settled down to read for a bit before nodding off. About an hour after dinner, I awoke feeling very woozy, light-headed, stomach reeling. I wasn't sure if I was going to be sick or if I was having a panic attack. Neither one sounded like much fun. I remember telling my seat-mate that I thought I was going to be sick. He pressed the Call Button on my console. And then - nothing.
My next awareness was opening my eyes. I was laying down. There were many people looking at me. Oh, I was on the floor in the aisle of the plane. People were gawking; a heard a voice from far away asking me questions. It felt like it took a long time for the Flight Attendant's words to enter my brain and then another long while for my brain to process the meaning of the words for me to respond. It all felt like slow motion. Someone took my pulse. An oxygen-mask was put over my face and I was told to lie still. I just wanted to go back to sleep (or whatever it was; oblivion?).
They moved the lady on the aisle over to my window seat and moved the Aussie IBM guy to another row and they gently guided me from the floor onto a flat position on the seats: head flat, oxygen mask in place, legs pulled up so I didn't spill too far out into the aisleway. I drifted in and out for about a half hour. Then they eased me up into a sitting position and took down the incident report. They continued to check my pulse every half hour or so and kept me full of fluids. The airline staff were great, monitoring me throughout the night. They wanted me to check in with medical authorities as soon as possible.
I didn't sleep much at all. It was a very long flight back to LAX, with a three hour layover before the flight to Sacramento, followed by a two hour drive home from there. I was drowsy, dopey, droopy, and down-right glad it was behind me. But it wasn't quite behind me because once I told my husband what had happened, he insisted I see our doctor.
Once I was home, I had researched the internet on what happened to me and concluded it was just a fainting spell, probably brought on by stress (losing my Passport, catching the plane), dehydration (forgot to drink my water, low oxygen on plane), and possibly high altitude. I expected my doctor to take it lightly since I am in good health. NOPE. He ordered a 24-hour heart monitor, a caratid artery test, an echocardiogram, and an EKG. All of that made me anxious with more sleepless nights.
The good news was that my heart is strong, I have no blockages, my blood counts are all normal except for a slightly elevated cholesterol (LDL) level. NO BIG DEAL. It was a "vasalvegal syncope." I fainted. My trips to the doctor cost me more than my trip to Australia, but I now feel that much more confident in my body.
Exercise. Eat well. Rest. Laugh. Play. Work. Love. Do that and it keeps the body, the brain, and the spirit healthy. I know my body won't last forever, but as my father used to say, "I want to live until I die." That's good enough wisdom for me. There IS wisdom at the end of every trail.
In early June 2014, I had the great opportunity to travel to Sydney, Australia, with my best friend from childhood, Patty. She and I have traveled together many times for fun and sometimes for Rotary to places like Alaska, New Orleans, Cape Code, Montreal, Ecuador, and the Galapagos. We love each other and sometimes we annoy each other but always we emerge and remain as BFFs.
Our trip to Australia this year was for a Rotary International Convention. My husband had work commitments that prevented his going so Patty and I agreed to go together. With both of us Rotarians, we knew the convention would be meaningful and both of us had had Australia on our bucket list as a destination. Off Patty flew from SFO to Sydney. I traveled the next day, from Sacramento through LAX and into Sydney. This is no hop, skip, and a jump. It's 14 gruelingly long hours. Patty was able to upgrade to first class (ooh-la-la!) and I, well, I took an Ibuprofen PM capsule and slept upright a portion of the long night.
Our trip was memorable - seeing the highlights of Rotary, meeting people from all parts of the globe, learning about how many ways that Rotary does good in the world, most notable perhaps is our crusade to END POLIO NOW. We also had the opportunity to climb the Sydney Harbor Bridge at night, to see the fiery, changing lights of "VIVID SYDNEY," to explore a bit of the Blue Mountains, to tour the Sydney Opera House, to sing in the Rotary International Choir, and of course, to hug a koala.
On our final morning in Australia, as we packed our bags for the long flight home, we splurged with a room service breakfast. My flight was leaving earlier than Patty's so I wanted to be at the airport in plenty of time. We hopped in a cab (no tips to cabbies in Australia), enjoyed the scenic route out of the heart of the city, and made it to the airport with more than enough time to spare.
I checked my luggage and then Patty and I said our goodbyes until our next trip. I made my way toward customs when I was reminded to fill out my Declaration Form. Back to a ledge along the wall with pencils and forms available - ticket/flight information, passport information, trip information. Check. Back in line I went; when I approached the Customs Representative, she asked for my ticket and passport. I reached into my purse, pulled out my ticket, but alas, NO PASSPORT. I thought it must have fallen into the labyrinth of my purse's bottomless pit, but no. NO PASSPORT. I scrambled out of line, my breath becoming more shallow. I practically ran back to the ledges where I'd completed the form, all the while scanning the floor for my navy blue link to the USA. No luck. I retraced my steps to the front of the airport and asked at the Information Booth. They directed me to the basement of the airport where the Immigrations Office was located. My heart was beating faster than normal as I descended the stairs and waited my turn in line. When it was my turn, my voice choked, but I was able to tell them I had lost my passport. I had a copy of it in my suitcase, but that was already checked and on its way to the plane.
After about 30 minutes of checking with numerous contacts around the airport, my passport was, thankfully, located. I accompanied the gentleman from Immigrations to the location that had found it and then proceeded as quickly as possible toward the gate as now, it was fast approaching boarding time and I hadn't even been through Security. This time, I kept a firm grip on my purse, my ticket, and my passport. As I went through the Security screener, the buzzer sounded on my carry-on bag. What now? I wondered! In my rush, I had forgotten to remove my water bottles from my bag (or to drink them). OK. No harm. On my way. Just in time to board.
The return flight seemed more crowded than the flight over. Warmer, tighter. Instead of an aisle seat, I had a window seat but that meant it would be difficult to get in or out for getting to the rest room, getting a drink of water, or just walking around to stretch my legs. I figured that I would have a drink, eat dinner, take another Ibuprofen PM, and catch some shut-eye. It had worked fairly well coming over; I expected the same on this return.
After chatting it up with my seat mates - a bloke from Australia who worked for IBM, and an American woman married to an Aussie man who was returning to the US to attend to her dying sister - I enjoyed an O'Brien Pale Ale, an Australian beer, ate a tasteless meal with about two ounces of complementary Australian wine, and then settled down to read for a bit before nodding off. About an hour after dinner, I awoke feeling very woozy, light-headed, stomach reeling. I wasn't sure if I was going to be sick or if I was having a panic attack. Neither one sounded like much fun. I remember telling my seat-mate that I thought I was going to be sick. He pressed the Call Button on my console. And then - nothing.
My next awareness was opening my eyes. I was laying down. There were many people looking at me. Oh, I was on the floor in the aisle of the plane. People were gawking; a heard a voice from far away asking me questions. It felt like it took a long time for the Flight Attendant's words to enter my brain and then another long while for my brain to process the meaning of the words for me to respond. It all felt like slow motion. Someone took my pulse. An oxygen-mask was put over my face and I was told to lie still. I just wanted to go back to sleep (or whatever it was; oblivion?).
They moved the lady on the aisle over to my window seat and moved the Aussie IBM guy to another row and they gently guided me from the floor onto a flat position on the seats: head flat, oxygen mask in place, legs pulled up so I didn't spill too far out into the aisleway. I drifted in and out for about a half hour. Then they eased me up into a sitting position and took down the incident report. They continued to check my pulse every half hour or so and kept me full of fluids. The airline staff were great, monitoring me throughout the night. They wanted me to check in with medical authorities as soon as possible.
I didn't sleep much at all. It was a very long flight back to LAX, with a three hour layover before the flight to Sacramento, followed by a two hour drive home from there. I was drowsy, dopey, droopy, and down-right glad it was behind me. But it wasn't quite behind me because once I told my husband what had happened, he insisted I see our doctor.
Once I was home, I had researched the internet on what happened to me and concluded it was just a fainting spell, probably brought on by stress (losing my Passport, catching the plane), dehydration (forgot to drink my water, low oxygen on plane), and possibly high altitude. I expected my doctor to take it lightly since I am in good health. NOPE. He ordered a 24-hour heart monitor, a caratid artery test, an echocardiogram, and an EKG. All of that made me anxious with more sleepless nights.
The good news was that my heart is strong, I have no blockages, my blood counts are all normal except for a slightly elevated cholesterol (LDL) level. NO BIG DEAL. It was a "vasalvegal syncope." I fainted. My trips to the doctor cost me more than my trip to Australia, but I now feel that much more confident in my body.
Exercise. Eat well. Rest. Laugh. Play. Work. Love. Do that and it keeps the body, the brain, and the spirit healthy. I know my body won't last forever, but as my father used to say, "I want to live until I die." That's good enough wisdom for me. There IS wisdom at the end of every trail.
