Switzerland recap

- Arrival after a 13 hour trip was the kind of moment when your average PP character would declare with a delighted smile how this was all so worth it, while concerned doctors are still looking for a polse. Arrival was the kind of moment I promised myself I was never gonna get futher than a 100 feet away from my bed again when I'm sick, let alone drive my sorry ass to Switzerland, no matter how much money and inconvenience I'm costing. Cos it is só nót worth it. Even if the recovery by some miracle only took me a day or two. And taking the insane view into account, that is saying something

- Note to self: audiobooks are a great way to survive 13 hour car rides. However, do not listen to one about a homicidal maniac going after your main character at a secluded house in the woods, when you yourself are staying at such a secluded house and your bedroom has 6 by 8 ft. doors facing a dark forest. It will seriously damage your ability to sleep.

- The ants outside my bedroom doors brought out the inner boy in my dad. He attempted to 'freeze them' with a can of toilet refresher, main effect being a bunch of good smelling ants that collectively took a moment to wash themselves.

- Dad also saw a fox. In an attempt to rise above my childhood's complete lack of imagination, I named him Mulder.

- Week overview: 1 day journey, 1 miserable day in bed, 1 day up and about doing too much, 4 days of being a good girl and getting rid of a cold in bed, 1 day shower, 1 day post-shower-recovery, 1 day trying out if I can take sun heat and discovering that I can’t, 1 day recovering from that, 3 days in a cloud, trip back.

I suppose it was always gonna be a fuss. The fuss I subconsciously anticipated the moment doc #5 suggested I'd go to Switzerland and killed my sleep. You don't send a chronically ill patient on a trip. Would love to do this again now though. Without the hot summer sun, start off cold, 5 AM wake up calls cos I could not for the life of me obscure the huge glass doors that were my bedroom window, and all the getting used to stuff. I know how to do it now. I'd sleep and be prepared and see sun and even be able to enjoy it.

I always had this idea I'd either feel better there and be cured, or at least have been on holidays. I feel like I should tell either one of those stories to everyone keeping their fingers crossed for me - that it was good, one way or the other. Not sure how to report two miserable weeks that not seem to have helped me, while I can't even tell that for sure. Will ask doc somewhere this week if my few hours outside with overcast weather were enough to really prove anything. I feel some misplaced sense of guilt over it, along with the disappointment cos even though I had strictly forbidden it to hope, my subconscious used the sleepless hours to plan an academic carreer at UCLA in detail. If I had just... I suppose if I had been able to just..., I wouldn't have had to go there in the first place.

And hey, I did see mountains :)