So after the IV drip, I was actually feeling a slight bit better, but we all knew it wasn't the cure. Even I was lucid enough to realize that a saline drip was not my saviour. Appropriate phone calls were made between concerned parties, and it was decided that no way in hell would I be going to another NY Hospital.
My parents had been living here for a good couple of years at this point, and they had a doctor who they said was pretty good. Now my wife and I had plans to come visit anyway about a week or so later, so I agreed when it was offered to come early and see my parents doctor.
They wanted me to fly down.
A person who is generally down with a cold should not fly, the pressure causes pain in the ears. A person with an unknown problem, which causes vomiting, dizzyness, et. al... Nope - shouldnt be flying either. Actually, let me put it this way:
Hell-no I aint flyin. On previous trips I have flown down to Roanoke, its a nice trip as long as you can accept the fact that you are on a flying toothpick most of the flight, and a flying lawnmower if you have to change planes anywhere. Acceptance leads to peace of mind. Greyhound was out of the question too, especially after my Atlantic City fiasco.
That left Amtrak. Does Amtrak run to Roanoke? Noooo. Did they? Yesss. Will they again? Maybeee..
But theres always Lynchburg. Ticket was booked as of 5pm 7/24/02. Train leaves Penn Station, NYC at 2pm 7/25/02. I had one night to spend before I was off again, one last night to get through before I began the biggest journey of my life. I remember I slept well that evening, and was up all night making preparations for my trip. Talking to friends online, telling them what the story was so far.
Saying goodbye to my wife by phone was not fun however. But it was still with the expectation that she would be following me down at the time we had originally planned to come down, about a week later.
Amazing how plans change.
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