Let's Go Away Somewhere Cool

FYI, I suck to vacation with.

The week before I had my fauxbortion experience, the silliness I dealt with was shingles. The week after the fauxbortion was our summer vacation. If you think you know where this is going, come on, seriously, you don’t actually believe I could get sick on another vacation, do you? For your references, there’s a great I mean terrible story a few posts back about my trip to Hawaii to celebrate turning 40 and finishing cancer treatment. Lols. I am currently in a chemo chair. Maybe Maui knew something. You’re welcome. He’s welcome?

For even more background, this has been going on for a while now. I have pretty consistently ruined almost every vacation or trip I go on with some kind of stupid illness for years now. There was the time in 2009 when I went to Hawaii for my best friends wedding. About halfway through my throat was so sore I couldn’t swallow, both ears throbbed and I was as sick as I’d ever been. But, I had a job to do so I powered through, had a great, slightly sick time at the wedding, gave a funny speech, and when I got home after a brutal plane ride where I was completely deaf and pained, I went right to urgent care. Holy cow they said, you need medicine stat. No shit, really? And then they put medicine in a syringe and shot it into my butt for my strep and double ear infection that had gone untreated for tooooo loooong.

More recently I’ve ruined what would have been some great trips. For Adam’s 40th, we rented a mini van and went North with our kid and our roommates at the time. We were on the hunt for some delicious CA central coast style BBQ. Guess who got sick? Me. I love getting out of town and exploring new places, like for real, WTF. Another trip I ruined was Sedona, AZ with my friend cousin. Did I ruin it with vomit and intense stomach and dehydration vibes? Yup, also me, I’m the problem, it’s me. What about the time I went to Portland to visit fam and eat at a friends super cool restaurant. Of course I got sick, so I didn’t eat much and I mostly just writhed in pain and wished I was at home. Then of course there was the Maui vacation/hospitalization, that sucked. There are more instances, but you know, you get it. I am completely terrible to travel with. I totally suck. But fuck dude, can’t I get a break?

San Diego. Specifically, Shores. I convinced Adam that this year we could rent a beach cottage and walk to our favorite beach, Shores, so that we never have to deal with the bullshit that is parking at this beach. He easily agreed with the plan. For real, what’s not to love about San Diego? It’s pretty close by. It’s totally gorgeous. Some people say San Diego has perfect weather. (Ok, but it’s maybe even a little cold sometimes?) No. No. I have no complaints about this place. I love it down there. It’s an amazing city for a long vacation. I can finally have time to relax and see so much more San Diego than our little weekend jaunts down. I even thought to myself, Abby, you won’t get sick here because you actually have come to San Diego numerous times for little weekenders, you don’t get sick then, why would this trip be any different? Again, LOL.

We got to our Air BnB and let me tell you, it was the perfect place. It actually checked off every box that it needed to for our little family of three and I was super stoked. Is this real life, I thought. Pinch me I must be dreaming. The beach was a super quick walk, easy to do with all the things we needed for beach fun. The Cheese Shop was RIGHT THERE too. We could walk to breakfast, to coffee, to a playground, this vacation was going to be soooooo good.

And it was totally super great! Until like, day 2 or so when THE PAIN started. What is THE PAIN? It’s my liver. Being an asshole. Stretching out and taking up just too much space in my insides. THE PAIN doubles me over. I can’t think of anything else when I have THE PAIN because THE PAIN is so big and painful and serious. THE PAIN makes it hard to breathe. THE PAIN makes it hard to get into a comfortable position. THE PAIN fucking SUCKS.

This is a familiar pain; It’s the pain I felt when I got RE-diagnosed with stupid fucking cancer bc it had spread to my stupid liver. Stupid fucking cancer. I hate you so much. So, when THE PAIN started on this vacation, first I thought, OH FUCK, then I thought, oh, no biggie, I have drugs! Drugs on vacation, FUN. Of course I brought all my medicines in case something like this were to happen. Let’s eat some pills and feel better, I thought. Good plan, me!

So, I thoughtfully and with my husband developed a medicinal regimen to combat this vacation pain situation. I was not interested in ruining yet another vacation. My do-over vacay after the Hawaii stupidity. My beautiful San Diego relaxation vacation. Fuck you, THE PAIN, I don’t consent to you being here.

Of course THE PAIN persisted. Of course it did. My narcotics were trash at attacking THE PAIN. I was still able to eat, but fucking ouch, my stomach was all wacky because of THE PAIN, so kind of hard to enjoy food. Everything about having THE PAIN on this vacation was tragic and I felt very strongly that I didn’t want to call my doctor and be told I needed to go to the hospital. No way was I going to give up on this San Diego family vacay.

At some point in the trip we went to the world famous San Diego zoo. That marked a milestone for me. I got pushed around in a wheelchair for the day. THE PAIN also came to the zoo, so although I was riding in style, I wasn’t off the hook pain wise. I was instead very much on the hook. The zoo was lovely and I saw an elephant poop and that’s what I wanted to see because I’m a weirdo, so, success.

What I kept telling myself about THE PAIN was that I was going to feel it whether I was at home in my bed or sitting in a beach chair at Shores. I mean, that is true. To a point. Who wouldn’t rather sit on the beach in pain than be anywhere else? Obviously though, what I really actually needed to do was take THE PAIN to the hospital. And while I knew that of course to be true, I DID NOT WANT TO LEAVE VACATION AND GO TO THE FUCKING HOSPITAL. At all. Like, at all. I did not want to go. I wanted to be on vacation, doing vacation things, having vacation fun, eating vacation food, watching vacation TV, playing vacation house games, yada yada yada. If anyone needed a real vacation guys, it was me. I really didn’t want another vacation to end up ruined bc cancer Mom has to go to the stupid fucking hospital. And if you know me, you know that I REALLY REALLY REALLY (x865427364562864) did not want to go to the ER.

I weighed my options. How much fun was it to have THE PAIN on this vacay with us? Was I making the guys vacation worse because THE stupid PAIN was attacking me in a very unvacation like manner, or let’s be honest, a very vacation like manner? How much pain is “unbearable" to live with? Honestly, I was in SO MUCH pain. It was starting to feel like a pretty serious situation. The meds I had weren’t working and I have the good good shit. THE PAIN was going to take me out of this vacation. Fuck it. Fuck it all. What hospital am I going to? Who has the least worst ER? Why do cancer patients have to start in the ER? Why are ERs the worst? I hate ERs so much.

I decided that (I think there was a phone call with my doctor but drugs but I think she was involved) I needed to go to the hospital near my new oncologist. That meant I needed to get my sick ass body North about 120 miles. I thought some thoughts. Who would be available and able and willing to come get me? Could I expect someone to come all the way to San Diego? Should I take an uber to a halfway point? Should I just take an uber from San Diego to the hospital in Santa Monica? I hate uber and lyft. I hate the idea of being in a car with a stranger. A stranger willing to drive super long distances for what I can only imagine is not enough money. How was I going to make this magic happen? Of course, while thinking all the thoughts I was writhing in uncontrollable pain and my brain was mushy and everything was terrible and my vacation, the one I NEEDED, was becoming ruined. Maybe I wouldn’t be gone for long and I could get fixed up with a newer better medicine to treat THE PAIN and I could return to vacay the next day, better than ever. LOL. I am so funny.

My wonderful amazing other cousin friend was able to meet me halfway. My wonderful amazing husband was able to drive me to that halfway mark. The halfway mark between San Diego and the LA area is Nordstrom. You can stop wondering, now you know.

Long story long, I did have to leave my vacation and go to the hospital. THE PAIN was just too much. It was bad guys, real bad. Super mega huge badness. I stayed in the hospital for 4 nights I think. That’s a long ass time to be trapped in a hospital cell. It sucked. Big time. But what didn’t suck was my kids vacation. And that my husband got to have vacation. Those people also needed vacation in a big serious way. They sent me pictures, we face-timed a bunch and my heart was full watching my kid grow and have new experiences and spend his days at the beach. And while they vacationed, my friends and family swooped in and did an excellent job of being by my side and taking care of me.

THE PAIN didn’t go away. It’s still here. It’s still happening. It’s not as bad as it was, usually, but sometimes it is. It’s terrible. It’s shockingly painful. It’s the fucking worst. I wish no one ever had to experience this kind of intense, physical discomfort. Thankfully, my huge team of doctors in the hospital and outside of it worked to develop a medicinal plan to combat THE PAIN daily. I’m not expecting miracles, but so far their plan works some. The hope is that the chemo will shrink whatever is growing on my stupid liver which in turn will mean whatever nerve or thingy its touching will not be touched and I won’t suffer THE PAIN as I do now. I just finished my chemo infusion (like I’m still in the chemo chair typing) and now I’m going to just hope and pray and hope and hope and hope that THE PAIN leaves sooner rather than later. And in the meantime, my liver function is great, my tumor markers continue to head in the right direction, my doctor seems pleased by those facts so I am too, and I’m just going to live my best life as best as I can.

Fuck you, cancer, you fucking suck.