I'm Not Making This Up!

Someone very wise (my dad!) once told me that some of the most crazy things happen in my life. I should write them down because they are so funny, ridiculous, obnoxious, silly that there is no way I could make them up. Take for example the fact that my bags have been lost FOUR times (and only when I fly into Switzerland). The past 36 hours have been like that. So I guess now is the time to record those happenings. To get the most of the story lets rewind even further.


Saturday, June 25: Paul has been feeling sick, feverish, hot and cold and just plain BLEH for several days. He is on my computer trying to order us a media box when he decides to close the blinds. In the process my computer slams onto the ground. He pick it up. It appears to work fine (we all know appearances are deceiving). I go to a teacher BBQ. Perhaps I have a bottle of wine or so. I remember having a great time.


Sunday, June 26: I wake up a bit groggy and hung over. I had mostly packed, but not completely so I throw some shoes and pants into the half packed bag. Paul takes this moment to mention that my computer, my love, my baby, is no longer working. He had even cycled to work to get the tools to fix it. It isn't working. We will have to take it to the only Mac store nearby in Glasgow. I am a bit annoyed, but I figure they can fix it. We get on the plane in Geneva and other than still feeling a bit sick. Everything goes well, until our decent. The turbulence is like a roller coaster that has fallen off the tracks and my stomach pitches and rolls. I ask the flight attendants (luckily sitting right behind me) for a barf bag just in case. As I am waiting to hurl, my strange neurological condition grabs hold of me. Usually it is just an arm or a foot but this time it comes down in full force. Both my hands spasm into weird claw like shapes, my jaw is hard to move, my right calf spasms into a clenched position, and my left leg, which had been pulled up next to me with the foot on the seat is locked in place. I can't unbend my leg at all, or move my hands or wrists. We land and the flight attendant brings me water. I tell her that I can't open my hands, but not to worry, this happens regularly enough that I am not worried. It will fade in 20 minutes to an hour. She tells me to take deep breaths and relax. Paul glares at her a bit (mostly because she tells me not to be nervous), and I just tell her really that I am fine. Then I realize the bigger problem here is that I cannot unbend my left leg. It is still stubbornly stuck in it's bent position. We are landed and the plane is empty.


Enter the fire brigade! They come and take my details. I try to assure them that the throwing up and the muscle spasms are NOT related. They just happened to have bad timing and come together. They fetch a wheel chair and are unable to push me down the aisle because the chair is too wide. I end up hopping on my right leg all the way through the plane. My stupid stuck left leg just stays all annoying and bent. I can tell the new flight attendants (waiting to go to Amsterdam) are intrigued by this weird, hopping person. I eventually get pushed through the airport, through passport control until they drop me outside of baggage claim. There I assure the fire brigade I am fine, and just wait another 15 minutes as my muscles slowly release their grip on my leg. I straighten it out and with some difficulty we walk to the taxis. We eventually make it to the hotel and call it an early night. Neither Paul or I feel particularly well.


Monday, June 27: Paul wakes up still feeling sick. I tell him to pop to the doctors to make sure he doesn't have any weird diseases from Jamaica. I take the 50 minute train to Glasgow to drop off my computer. I get to the store and the first guy turns it on. He watches as the boot screen just sits there, white and blank. There are no options to boot. It makes terrible whirring clicking noises. He concedes that I need a specialist. I make an appointment for the late afternoon and go find a cinema (in ENGLISH!) to pass some time. Paul texts me to let me know he has been admitted to the hospital (WHAT?) then tells me not to worry. Yeah. Right. My appointment time comes so I run back to the Mac store to the "Genius Bar" the guy tries again to turn it on, but with no luck. He then takes my computer for a while to try some things out. He takes out the hard drive and puts it in a different computer. That computer fails to start. He puts a fresh hard drive in mine, and it boots up immediately. He comes back with the news that my hard drive has completely failed and from the looks of it data recovery will be very difficult. He asks me the dreaded question - have I backed up anything?


I haven't recently, most recently my honeymoon photos have just been transferred. So have my shower photos and my rehearsal and pics of my friends from the night before. Luckily I put my favorites on Facebook, but there are 100s more that I loved. Then there are all my graduate papers from last year. Gone. All my work for my online school. Gone. All my recent assignments, outlines, etc. for the current course (at least a weeks worth of work). Wiped from the face of this earth. Not the best news. Then I get the message they are keeping Paul in hospital over night. It is all too much. After a quick phone call (and I will admit I screamed a bit at him for dropping my computer, then apologized since he was in the hospital) I hopped on the train back to Edinburgh. 


I find Paul in Ward 43 at Western General Hospital in Edinburgh. Ward 43 is the infectious disease ward. They were testing him for everything - Malaria, Dengue, who knows what else - just in case. They decided to keep him over night since he was feeling so rubbish. I stay with him until well past visiting hours, then get the bus back. Halfway home our friends who live here in Edinburgh call me. They have talked to Paul didn't realize all the things that were happening. I eventually make it to them and after a meal and a drink or two, I feel more relaxed and we call it a night. I stay over at their house (better than an empty hotel room!) 


Tuesday, June 28: I get to share breakfast with our friends, and then get back on the bus to the hospital. They have taken more blood and decided Paul is sick but not infectious. They discharge him and we finally get home. We both shower and are thankful to get a break.


Do you see what I mean? I can't make this stuff up, it is too ridiculous. To add on top of this, I had missed my first graduate assignment (while I was at the hospital!) and I had a LOT of work to be doing. It's like that song that I posted first, the Sunscreen song. It says that, "The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday." Last Tuesday I didn't know I would have to take a wheel chair off a plane, I would lose all my information on my computer or Paul would be in the Infectious Disease ward. But that just goes to show you, life is one crazy, up, down, spinning, weird, silly, wonderful ride. I wonder what will happen tomorrow?