A few days ago, my morning began picking blackberries alongside Oak Creek while we walked to breakfast. Later that day, crickets loudly outed our presence, interrupting the chant between pine and wind. A storm in the distance threatened to ruin our hike, but it stayed away long enough to let us enjoy all that we miss and love about northern Arizona’s woods.

I wish I could say my entire month-long vacation was as idyllic as its last days. This was the month I meant to feed my soul by whooping it up with friends and family I haven’t seen in too long awhile. It was supposed to be loaded with hiking, kayaking, swimming and imbibing all sorts of food, bevies and fun — instead I spent most of it on my back or tuckus sipping water and eating fat free (with Jello being my highlight).

Luckily, my body held it together long enough for me to catch up with a friend in DC and then my UAE buds in Fort Lauderdale and a Bahama booze cruise. So, cruising is fun and all, but apparently when you’re almost 60 you might not want to eat and sip all that is offered. An abused, aged gall bladder can only take so much before giving you the middle finger and crapping out on you.

Because I normally don’t have digestive issues — just the occasional heart burn — when, what I thought was indigestion, crept up on me the last two nights of the cruise, I inhaled Tums, laid on my bunk and did my yoga/scuba breaths to will the pain away, and then resumed time with my buddies. The day we left the boat, a friend and I drove to Islamorada (near Key Largo) to bicycle, swim, kayak (maybe even squeeze in a dive). Instead I ended up holing up in the hotel room from what I thought was food poisoning (poor Shannon, my vacay buddy, got to nurse me instead of exploring the keys). I just took it all as my sign that Florida just might not be where I want to retire.

The day after my big vomitfest, I dropped Shannon off at another friend’s apartment in Fort Lauderdale to check into my flight to Pensacola, where I planned to whoop it up with my brother and sister. The travel gods had other plans for me. Long story short, my layover was in Houston (yeah I know silly that I had to fly from Florida to Texas just to get back to Florida) and there was a hurricane, soooooo now instead of flying I was going to drive 9.5 hours to Pensacola, which I did — all while my gall bladder was throwing it’s little temper tantrum that I ignored. In hindsight a payday bar and a Wendy’s breakfast sandwich was probably not a good idea.

Still thinking it was an abused stomach from all the fun consumed on the cruise, I just slowed things down a bit in Pensacola — loving every minute I had with my brother and sister. On our third day together, I felt great. So, what did I do? I whooped it up on the beach and then at Floribama, a fun bar my brother wanted to visit. I ate, I drank, I danced the night away. Went to bed a happy little sinner. Around 2 a.m. my gall bladder put her little valve down and said something along the lines of “Peace out!”

My siblings first took me to Urgent Care, which sent us to a stand-alone Emergency room, so I also got to experience an ambulance ride from there to hospital. Don’t let my smirk fool you; I’m in a lot of pain and not yet doped on the right meds.

Trust me when I say don’t piss off your body parts. When one of them decides to pull a kamikaze move, it will take you down. I was in so much pain, the morphine didn’t work, but oh my goodness did the whatever else they pumped into me — I see why people get addicted. It’s bliss until it wears off.

It’s almost three weeks later, and I’m almost back to normal. I’m still very cautious about what I eat. While the family eats pizza, I munch on fruits and veggies. While they sip beer in the pool, I savor my ice water. I want sooooooo badly to eat cheese and greasy foods, but I’m being good. I’ll eventually go back to nibbling here and there on my unhealthy favorites, but I plan on continuing the good habits to keep the rest of my body at bay. I do not need an internal war messing up anymore of my fun.

And while I hate that a good chunk of my plans were derailed, there was also a lot of good that came out of this.

• The hospital I landed in was great. A shout out goes to Pensacola’s HCA Florida West. They were thorough and attentive. Everyone, and I mean everyone, made sure I got what I needed when I needed it. My surgeon also managed to rush me in for a follow-up three days after surgery, so that I could hit the road and get to Virginia and then to Phoenix and, finally, Guam. Fingers crossed my insurance doesn’t surprise me with a “time to go bankrupt” bill.
• Since I didn’t want to fly after surgery, we — I mean Joe, who flew in to help me out post surgery (which I so appreciated) — drove to Virginia, which gave us the chance to stay at a friend’s house in SC. Thank you Scott for making me a healthy meal!
• Another friend drove 4 hours (each way) just to spend a little time with us. We would have missed this opportunity had I been able to stick to my original plans. Love you Chris!
• A slowed-down me was able to just soak up the time I had with the people I love, and Joe got to spend family time with me. We’re normally here at different times.
• I’m pretty sure when I step on the scale at home, I’ll have lost weight instead of gained it. Amen to that! (I’m still jonesing for some cheese though)

This time next week I’ll be back to my real world, trying to catch up at work. Instead of writing about the highlights, I’ll just blast you with some photos from cruise, sibling time and a roadtrip with my son. Currently, I’m loving time with Kaylene and the babies; Aaron is visiting again tonight. Hopefully, I’ll take the time to reflect and write more either during my layovers or when I have quiet time in Guam. To the friends I missed seeing, I won’t wait this long to visit again. Hugs and love to all of you — you truly bring so much light to my life!