Unexpected Challenges
- Brenda Smith
- Jul 11
- 9 min read
What I like most about adventures are the unexpected twists and turns that challenge me to be innovative in finding solutions to complete my journey. Sometimes those curves in the road take me to places of wonder. Others cause me to want to sit in the middle of an airport baggage claim lobby, hang my head, and cry.
On June 18th, after 39 days in Denver, I returned to my peaceful home in Maine overlooking the sparkling Penobscot Bay. My bed felt so comfortable. The songs of the seacoast birds and the salt-scented gentle breezes ruffling the leaves of the trees outside my windows offered welcomed serenity from the constant sound of ambulance sirens heading to the hospital, and the revving of hot rod cars roaring down nearby streets after dark.
If I had the choice, I would never leave my cozy nest again. But a few months ago, I signed a document committing to make a series of return trips to the hospital for continued evaluation and testing. Then, I hadn't realized the extent of traveling Monica and I would need to do for just a 90 minute check-in with Dr Piquet and for her team to take the required blood samples.
Only twelve days had passed since I'd arrived back in Maine. But already the time for my first return visit to the hospital in Denver had arrived. On Sunday June 29th, Monica arrived at 9 am to pick me up for the trip to the Bangor Airport for the first of seven return trips to Denver. I dragged my feet, not because of SPS, but because I dreaded the long flights back and forth between Maine and Denver.
Monica found an empty spot and parked her car in the crowded lot. She walked while I Zingered to the terminal building. Bangor Airport is tiny compared to other international airports with just eight gates to serve the few airlines that fly into Bangor. I'd already been through the TSA and baggage scanning process there twice before. I'd even kept the special paperwork from the previous trips to hasten the required process so I could bring my Zinger onto the plane. The woman at the check-in counter, apparently unfamiliar with the process, spent about 20 minutes trying to make sure all the rules were being followed. Eventually, we got our boarding passes and took the elevator up to the second floor TSA area.
After the required manual pat down, checking for anything that didn't belong on my body, I thanked the woman for the short massage and we moved to our assigned departure gate. Fortunately for us, our two flights proceeded smoothly and Monica's husband, already in Denver, picked us up for our ride to the hotel. By the time we left the airport, night had fallen. A spectacular show of lightning hopping between clouds and occasionally striking the ground far in the distance across the flat eastern plains left me awestruck.
The rooms we'd had for the first two trips weren't available, so Hyatt assigned us to other rooms. Unfortunately, my room didn't have a handicapped bathroom. It had a walk-in stand up shower, but the tiny space had no shower curtain. The remote controlled window shade didn't operate. It wouldn't budge from the fully closed position. I didn't need a shower or to move the shade that night, so I climbed into bed and promptly fell asleep.
The next morning I hurried to get ready for my 9:00 am appointment with Dr Piquet. I skipped taking a shower and dressed with all the lamps in the room on. Monica and I left at 8:15 because we had to meet the team in another building toward the rear of the campus and Monica needed time to figure out where to park.
Sadie met us. She took vitals, reviewed some follow-up questions with me and called for a nurse to access my port to draw nine more vials of blood (cumulative vials - 275). While the blood draw proceeded, Dr Piquet, with her ever-present smile, slipped into the exam room. Her smile always triggered a smile on my face, too. She asked how I was feeling, wiggling my arms and legs and poking at my back muscles to check their level of rigidity.
She inquired about any side effects I might be encountering. We discussed a small open sore she thought would heal on its own. (It did) Then I asked her how I should approach the trial sponsor about getting their approval to publish a book about living with SPS and my experience with the trial. Because she also thought the book was a great idea, she offered to test the waters for me, since she communicated with them frequently.
We had the rest of the day free. I'd been whining about taking a ride up into the mountains. Monica had doubts about the weather not being ideal, but Wayne had the idea to drive to Keystone. While gray clouds hovered over Denver, the skies cleared as we climbed higher in the Rockies.
Since it was so pleasant in the mountains, Wayne decided we could cross over the Continental Divide. Going west, we drove on I-70 through the 1.7 mile long Eisenhower Tunnel carved out of solid granite. When it opened in 1970, it was the highest vehicular tunnel in the world at an average elevation of 11,112 ft. Now, it is the longest mountain tunnel in North America.
This led us down into the Town of Silverthorne, where we stopped for lunch. As we left the restaurant, I had a brief dizzy spell from being at high altitude. I remembered the feeling from my days climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. For the return trip, Wayne opted for the road up and over Loveland Pass. As we climbed toward the summit, I started to get a mild headache, also a sign of altitude sickness. Since I knew we'd only be this high for a short time, I wasn't worried. The headache would disappear as we dropped in altitude. Though I questioned my judgement, insisting we travel to high altitudes when my red blood cell count from the lab tests that morning showed they had just crept over the bottom level of the normal range.
At the summit, Wayne parked and got out to snap a photo of the Loveland Pass sign post. At just ten feet shy of 12,000 ft, one might think reaching this pass a daunting feat. But earlier in my life I'd lived for four years in La Paz, Bolivia, at an altitude of 12,500 ft. The cure for altitude sickness there was drinking a tea made from coca leaves. Even the American Embassy doctors in Bolivia recommended its use, though coca leaves are illegal in the US.
By the time we returned to the hotel, our planned departure for the airport at 3:30 am mandated an early bedtime. For a night owl like me, waking at 3 am seemed ludicrous. We arrived at the airport at 4:00 am. Getting checked in and through TSA in this gigantic airport proved a breeze compared to tiny Bangor's airport. The rising sun delighted us as we waited at the gate to board our plane.
Just before boarding, I went to use the nearby ladies' room. I couldn't help but do a double take at the sign mounted on the entryway. I'd never seen the use of a bathroom to avoid the damage of a tornado!! Might have something to do with the fact that Maine is far more prone to being hit by a hurricane than a tornado. Since I have many trips left to Denver, at least I know where to hunker down if a tornado warning blasts! Not to show any gender bias, the mens' bathroom entry has a similar sign posted.
Our flight to Laguardia took off on time. A smooth and uneventful journey until 45 minutes before we were due to land at LGA. A ping on my cell phone announced an incoming message from Delta Airlines that read, "Your flight was cancelled. Our apologies." WTF! The last place I wanted to be stranded was in New York at LGA. I typed a message to our travel agent that she needed to find us a way to get home. She called me right back, but since the airline doesn't allow phone calls while a flight is in the air, I told her I'd call her as soon as we landed.
A few minutes later, the head flight attendant informed all passengers Delta had canceled several connecting flights. This could be a nightmare! Once on the ground, I called our travel agent back. She said, "Brenda, I have bad news. I can't get you a seat into Bangor for two more days." Monica and I hated the idea of trying to rent a car to drive back to Maine. We were both exhausted already before facing a 413 mile drive, but we asked the travel agent to find us a car. Meanwhile, Monica went to Baggage Claim customer service to request they pull my checked bag off the plane. She was told, "No problem, it should be off in 40 minutes."
Our travel agent discovered every car in the three major rental car agencies on site at LGA had been reserved. She checked with agencies outside the airport and found us one in the Dollar Rental office in Astoria, but we would have to take a taxi to get there. "We'll take it," I said, desperate not to lose the only opportunity we possibly had to get home that day. Then we sat at the baggage carousel and waited for my bag to slide down the chute. We waited and waited and waited. The only help available would have been to get in the slowly moving line for Baggage Claim customer service, which had grown to close to thirty people.
At 3:30 pm, after waiting almost three hours, I said to Monica, "Come on, let's go. Forget the suitcase. We need to get to Dollar before they give our car away." None of the cab drivers wanted a short fare, but finally, the supervisor at the cab stand assigned a driver to us. He scowled and railed against us in a foreign language during the entire drive. He wasn't very nice, but he got us to Dollar just at our 4:00 pm deadline.
They rented us a car I'd never heard of - a Buick Envision. Monica insisted she would drive.
I swore I was seated in a spaceship. An interactive video screen wrapped entirely across the entire dashboard, even in front of the passenger. Monica couldn't figure out how to get the car out of park and how to get the onboard navigation system to work, so she found a mechanic who gave her a brief orientation. He couldn't get the navigation system to work, but got a cable so Monica could connect the navigation app on her phone to the dashboard screen. With that, we left Astoria headed north.
We wanted to get out of New York and into Connecticut as soon as we could, but the height of rush hour slowed our progress. At 7 pm, I told Monica we had to eat something since the only food we'd eaten had been early that morning. I found Katz's on google. It was just off the highway and they closed at 8pm. We arrived at 7:30 pm. When we asked to be seated the young host told us that because the restaurant closed at 8 pm, they were no longer seating patrons. Monica put up a persuasive argument that they should seat us. After the host checked with the cook, they agreed we could sit at a counter.
We gobbled down sandwiches and half sour pickles. The last patrons to leave, we exited the building at 8:05 pm. After driving for another hour, darkness enveloped us; so did torrential rain so heavy we could barely see the lane markers. Now the weather slowed our progress. I knew Monica was weary and my job was to make sure she stayed awake, so I kept engaging her in conversation. At 11:30pm we crossed over the bridge into Maine. Another friend, Carolyn, insisted we stop for the night at Seaglass Village in Wells, Maine, where she and Monica had their cottages. She would get a bed ready for me so Monica could crash at her own cottage and not have to deal with my extra needs. Monica dropped me at Carolyn's cottage at midnight. We'd been awake for 21 hours!
The next morning, Monica picked me up for the three-hour ride back to Bangor Airport to return the rental car and retrieve her car and to deliver me to my home in Belfast. I slept much of that afternoon but still felt exhausted when I woke up. Two days later, Delta delivered my bag to me intact.
I'm still feeling fatigued from that trip, but I'm trying to practice my walking despite my fatigue. In two days, Sunday, July 13th, I have to make the same trip again. I'm praying for fair weather and no flight delays or cancellations. Many of you have expressed worry since I haven't blogged for a while, but I assure you I am fine, just too tired to write blogs consistently. Rest assured, I will keep blogging until the end of this trial next May, but the blogs may not be as frequent unless there is something exciting to report. I know I'm way behind communicating individually with many of you. I hope to catch up soon.
As always, thanks for your continued support and well wishes. They mean the world to me!
Love,
Brenda
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