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A Christmas memory.
Dec. 23rd, 2010 12:38 pmIt was Christmas of 1998, the last Christmas that Michael and I traveled separately to our separate families for the holiday. I went to my parents' house in upstate New York. The night before I was supposed to take an early morning flight back to Iowa City, I came down with a massive case of stomach flu. I spent all night throwing up. Just turning my head to the side caused incapacitating nausea.
Eventually, around 5am, I got up and sat on the couch wrapped in blankets, shivering and waiting for airline offices to open at 6am. I called on the dot of six and explained that there was simply no way I could get on a plane.
"Oh, we don't accept doctor's notes anymore," the woman on the other end of the line said blithely. "If you don't make your flight, we'll need to reschedule you on the next flight that has seats available at the price you paid. That'll be... four days from now."
I hung up the phone with no idea what I would do. I cried.
When my parents woke up, my father told me to go ahead and dress and get in the car. At that time he was about two weeks away from retiring as a pediatrician. He drove me to his practice's small satellite office, not far from the airport, deposited me on a chair, and started rummaging through the fridge.
"I'm looking for compazine," he said. He found thorazine, a powerful tranquilizer and antipsychotic which also has the side effect of stopping vomiting. I rolled up my sleeve. My father gave me an injection of thorazine, drove me to the airport, and put me on a plane.
My memory of the rest of the day is hazy. I remember that I did not have the slightest urge to throw up. In fact, I didn't have the slightest urge to do anything at all. I felt as if I were interacting with the world through thick glass or perhaps from underwater. I moved slowly and deliberately. My feet felt enormous and I found myself stumbling over invisible lines in the carpet. I was very... tranquil.
When I arrived at the Cedar Rapids airport I think I was supposed to drive home and come back later for Michael. Or maybe I was supposed to wait at the airport for him. That part was pretty hazy as well. I felt overpoweringly sleepy and knew I shouldn't drive, so I took a student shuttle home and fell asleep on the couch, waking just long enough when Michael called to tell him where the car was so he could drive himself home. I slept and slept.
When I woke up, I wasn't tranquil anymore, but the stomach flu had passed. The whole experience felt like a dream.
Eventually, around 5am, I got up and sat on the couch wrapped in blankets, shivering and waiting for airline offices to open at 6am. I called on the dot of six and explained that there was simply no way I could get on a plane.
"Oh, we don't accept doctor's notes anymore," the woman on the other end of the line said blithely. "If you don't make your flight, we'll need to reschedule you on the next flight that has seats available at the price you paid. That'll be... four days from now."
I hung up the phone with no idea what I would do. I cried.
When my parents woke up, my father told me to go ahead and dress and get in the car. At that time he was about two weeks away from retiring as a pediatrician. He drove me to his practice's small satellite office, not far from the airport, deposited me on a chair, and started rummaging through the fridge.
"I'm looking for compazine," he said. He found thorazine, a powerful tranquilizer and antipsychotic which also has the side effect of stopping vomiting. I rolled up my sleeve. My father gave me an injection of thorazine, drove me to the airport, and put me on a plane.
My memory of the rest of the day is hazy. I remember that I did not have the slightest urge to throw up. In fact, I didn't have the slightest urge to do anything at all. I felt as if I were interacting with the world through thick glass or perhaps from underwater. I moved slowly and deliberately. My feet felt enormous and I found myself stumbling over invisible lines in the carpet. I was very... tranquil.
When I arrived at the Cedar Rapids airport I think I was supposed to drive home and come back later for Michael. Or maybe I was supposed to wait at the airport for him. That part was pretty hazy as well. I felt overpoweringly sleepy and knew I shouldn't drive, so I took a student shuttle home and fell asleep on the couch, waking just long enough when Michael called to tell him where the car was so he could drive himself home. I slept and slept.
When I woke up, I wasn't tranquil anymore, but the stomach flu had passed. The whole experience felt like a dream.
