I didn't wake up until the breakfast tray was right in front of us. Pissed me off, because I had to take out my Invisaligns, but didn't get to brush them. Ick.
I tried to wake up, head was pounding, and I already could tell my breakfast wasn't going to stay down. The food looked good, and I figured I should try to get as many nutrients into me while I still could. Ate delicious strawberry French toast and some fruit – slowly. Didn't read or do anything after that, because we were descending, and I wasn't feeling up to hurrying to the bathroom to clean my Invisaligns or find and take suppository pain and anti-nausea meds I had in one of our bags.
Matt watched our descent on his monitor while I snagged his barf bag and put it inside mine. Preparatory measures. I didn't actually throw up until we were on the ground (but still in the plane). The other passengers were nice and didn’t give me dirty looks. Felt some better after I puked. Take-offs and landings are the worst.
Eventually, I should recover from the accident, so flying won’t be a problem. What am I supposed to do? Not fly? This flight was worse than any other since the accident, I learned. Matt later told me that while I slept, the plane kept changing elevation. I wonder if the volcanic ash cloud from Iceland was responsible.
In the Paris airport, we had 20 minutes to get from our plane, through security, and board our flight to Frankfurt. Matt was impressed at how well I hustled after him as we walked quickly in the Paris airport to get to our next flight. I just kept him in my sight and followed as fast as I could.
I didn't think we'd have to go through security again, and we lost our water bottles. I usually carry empty bottles through security, then fill them so I have plenty of water on the rest of the trip. Not like I was drinking a lot anyway, but I got more and more thirsty. I also had to quickly move my liquids and gels back into the ziplock bag. Then I beeped when walking through the security doorway. A woman patted me down and swept me with a wand. We didn't have to take our shoes off though.
We boarded a bus that drives people from the airport to the airplane. Sat in the back. Sun was too warm and I was thirsty. We waited about 15 minutes before everyone was on. I dozed a little on our way to the plane.
Once on board, I grabbed the barf bags, but didn't need them for the flight. I read a few pages of a new book. Drank a small glass of water. Put my nuts in the backpack. Slept until we landed.
As we walked to the baggage dept., I had to stop and puke into extra barf bags I took (thank God) from the plane. Matt found me a bathroom after that, and I rinsed out my mouth, then drank a little. I also grabbed a plastic garbage bag from the janitor's abandoned cart.
Dad and Peter were waiting at baggage claim. Peter shook Matt's hand, and gave me a big hug. He kept offering to take me to a doctor and stopping at the store to get me medicine to help me. Matt and I explained, several times, I already had what I needed. He finally understood. (He’s deaf in one ear, so between that, his concern, and the language barrier, took a while for the communication to sink it.)
Peter was incredibly unfamiliar with the airport. Couldn't figure out how to get to the car. Kept asking directions. Then we had to figure out where to pay for parking. Took Matt and I pointing at the chart on the wall that stated every parking floor had a place to pay for parking before he got it. We took the bags to the car. I got in and waited while they looked for where to pay.
So tired! Head pounding. No time to take drugs, and not feeling well enough to do anything but follow along. Peter drives a bit like Dad – he super accelerates, then hits the brakes to slows down. I threw up twice in the car, and the drive took FOREVER. We drove on and on and on. (Turned out to be a 90 minute drive.) I dozed. Every once in a while, I'd fall asleep and wake as my head fell backwards. The seat cushions are a little forward, even for the back seats of the car.
I don't know how I made it for the drive. A few days later, Matt, tears in his dear eyes, told me he has no idea how I made it through the trip. I admitted considering jumping out of the car several times during the trip.
Finally, we arrived at Peter and Marlies's house, which is near Seigen. I got out of the car, and immediately puked on the street for 3 minutes – yellow, thick goop. They live at the end of a cul-de-sac, so there wasn’t any traffic. I felt bad, knowing what a wonderful cook Marlies is, and I just knew she’d prepared an amazing meal for us, which I, of course, wouldn’t be able to touch. I wasn’t well enough to even sit at the table.
Mom and Marlies (a nurse) were wonderful. Mom let me crash on her bed. I laid there, grabbed Mom's lower arms, and just sobbed. That awful trip was finally over.
Mom got my pain and nausea suppositories ready in the bathroom. I was too weak to open the plastic covers. Slept, woke, took drugs, and repeated the cycle a few times.
It was around 11:00 pm when Mom woke me again. Everyone was getting ready for bed, and they didn’t want to move me. Originally, the plan was for Matt and I to sleep at Nani’s house. Nani is Peter and Marlies’s daughter. She has 3 teenage kids (19-14) and a longtime boyfriend, Yoseph. Matt slept at Noni and Yoseph's. I got to stay in Mom's bed. She slept on Dad's bed. Dad refused to sleep at Noni's, preferring to sleep on the couch.
I wished Peter a good night in German. He was impressed that I knew German, even though I only know a few hundred words. I learned Nani's 14 (nearly 15) year old son, Nico, fell off his wave board and broke his arm. Both bones snapped and were poking out of his skin. The first thing he said in the ambulance was, “On no! Now I won’t get to see the Americans!” He’s a real sweety. So I was sick, and Nico was at the hospital. They had to wait to operate on him because he'd just eaten. Plus, Marlies's washing machine also quit working today (though she got it going again). What a day!
Welcome to Germany.