Vacation Nevertheless

In April, we had planned a trip to Florida. For numerous reasons, including my recent diagnosis, we couldn't go. We had taken a trip there exactly one year prior. That trip was cut short as my mother had become very ill and entered hospice care in my home. But we recently rescheduled April's bamboozled travels. And, for the past several weeks, I have been very skillfully planning my execution of all that needed doing to pull it off this time.
PSC makes a person tired. All. The. Time.
But we got it all done, and we left the house at 4AM yesterday. I drove some of the way in the morning, but my husband did most of it. Thankfully. He and my son understand how I am and what this does to me. And they didn't complain about my falling asleep for much of the last leg of the drive.
It looked like sleeping, but it felt like a cross between drunk, hungover, and dead. Other people with this disease know what I mean.   
We arrived at this beautiful little rental home last evening. Blooming topiary trees welcomed us. The inside opened up into a space that the house didn't appear capable of holding. Lovely. Absolutely lovely.
I was thankful for the peaceful surroundings when I began throwing up last night. Several times, I sat on the floor, hugging, crying at the toilet. I was pretty sure that God brought me here so I could die in a nice place...meaning no offense to my humble home.
But, I'm still here today. It is 4:30PM and I am not even dressed. My pee is almost clear. I am not vomiting. I feel like tomorrow I may be able to go out somewhere.
But, meantime, the bed here is the softest I have ever rested in. And it's all good.

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