February 27, 2024 to February 29, 2024
Leap Day, part one
This is an interim report. It’s still the first thing in the morning, with nothing really to share about today yet other than the news that sometime in the late evening last night my symptoms finally began clearing up; and this morning I feel nearly normal. And Rachael’s getting there too, but just behind me - unsurprisingly, since I got a head start before I presumably passed it on to her.
And just in time. We leave Alcudia tomorrow, so we’ve got a bike ride ahead to be ready for; and after yesterday’s storm passed on it looks like today will be beautiful. Rachael is planning to take an easy hike after it warms up and I’m going to take a short bike ride to the Albufera, the marshy refuge just a few miles to the east.
So it looks like we’ll be able to show you at least a bit of this corner of the island before we go, but that’s to come later. First let’s catch up on the last few days now that I’ve got enough energy to put something down again. There’s been a lot of brain fog swirling around recently, so details are thin.
Tuesday
It rained most of the morning, but with midday clearing predicted we spend the morning holed up on the couch and planning what we’ll do with our day once things improve. As we will end up doing every day here, we start out with scrambled eggs and coffee which I supplement with muesli and Rachael with toast.
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We’re both feeling somewhat better today. Neither of us is as congested as we have been, and we’re hardly coughing at all. We convince ourselves that we’ll be fine going out for lunch if we can find a place where we’re seated well away from anyone else. Our plan is to do that and then walk around the corner to the grocery store, and then finish up with a stop at the pharmacy to pick up some more decongestant and hopefully something for Rachael’s sore ribs. This is a condition we haven’t mentioned before - somewhere along the way Rachael’s apparently injured her ribs - maybe when muscling the bikes up and off the bus, or when she brought her bike up to the apartment in the elevator. It’s painful enough that she’s worried about it, and she’s hoping to find something to wrap her torso with for support.
The restaurant solution is fine - we find a place near our apartment with an outside enclosure that’s empty except for the two of us and enjoy a goat cheese salad and fish mains, pleased to have appetites again. At the pharmacy Rachael picks up an analgesic ointment and a role of tape for her ribs, which we wrap her with when we’re back at the room.
And then, because I’m still feeling reasonably well I go out again not long before sundown for a short walk down by the marina. Tomorrow’s weather looks to be terrible from dawn to dusk, and I want to see at least something here before being cooped up again.
And it really is nice to be out, although it’s on the chilly side even with me well layered up. its quiet - we’re here well off season and there are only a few other folks about. I don’t go far really - just about two miles along the edge of the bay and marina. Just enough to get a taste of how pretty it is here, to pick up the first bird of the tour, and for me to probably have overexerted myself. Even at a slow walk, I’m pretty fatigued when I make it back to the room.
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9 months ago
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We have Netflix here, so Rachael’s done some research and found a film we’d like to watch: Maestro, the Leonard Bernstein biopic. There’d was talk of watching it this afternoon or evening, but by the time I make it back to the room it makes more sense to save it for a rainy day activity.
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Wednesday
As predicted, today is a day to just stay indoors. It’s raining hard when we wake up, and very windy. It will remain windy all day, averaging around 25 mph. A real storm.
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I was right, unfortunately. I probably did overdo things with that puny walk, and my congestion has worsened again. I have a very restless night, needing to blow my nose and clear my throat constantly all night long. It’s really quite disgusting, and you don’t need more graphic details I’m sure. Let’s just say that between the two of us we’re burning through the toilet paper fast.
To give Rachael at least some chance of getting some rest I take the couch for the evening so I won’t keep waking her up all night long. I get hardly any sleep at all because of the congestion, because my back hurts from lying around so much, and because it’s so bright - maddeningly, I can’t figure out how to turn off the kitchen cupboard lights, which throw off enough light that the room is well lit all night long. It’s light if you look in their direction, and it’s just as light looking the other way because they reflect back from the windows.
I spend quite a while carefully examining the walls looking for hidden switches, trying to figure out how we turned them on in the first place. I keep testing the same switches over and over, because I can’t quite believe that none of them is the controller. Finally it sinks in - one of the switches does nothing, so it must be the one. The switch must have broken sometime after we got here, and the lights are stuck in the on position. Oh, fine.
I awake being concerned about my health and hoping there’s not something more serious than a cold going on. At its worst, I feel like I’m choking and drowning in fluid, and it leaves me thinking about a colleague from work years ago whose daughter had cystic fibrosis. He’d spend time every day pounding on his daughter’s back helping her decongest so she could breathe again. I can hardly imagine.
When we’re both up, Rachael does some research and finds a medical center I might try: Mallorca Doctor, a network of clinics that span the island - the pharmacist had mentioned it yesterday, in case Rachael thought she should have her ribs xrayed. It looks perfect - the nearest one is barely a block away, so even in these conditions I could at least make that short distance. I contact their 24-hour appointment line through WhatsApp, but am disappointed to learn that the clinic is closed until next Monday (maybe it doesn’t open until March?). No problem - their services are actually primarily house calls! I request an appointment, and one gets scheduled for sometime between 10:00 and 10:30, at our apartment.
At 10 I get messaged that the doctor is on his way, and requesting confirmation that I’m still in. A house call! I don’t think I’ve been seen by a doctor on an in-home visit since I was a child in West Virginia. The visit goes well - the doctor is fluent in English - and my vital signs get checked. He listens to my lungs, looks down my throat, and reassures me that it looks like a routine cold or RSV. On the chance that there’s a bacterial infection involved he prescribes an antibiotic, and recommends a regimen of rest and keeping hydrated.
Once there’s a lull in the weather and the pharmacy’s open Rachael makes a dash to the pharmacist’s to fill my prescription and to pick up another six liter water carboy - the third we’ve needed already - the water has a horrible taste here, not really fit for consumption. It’s a challenging outing for her - there’s lots of puddle-hopping to be done, the carboy is heavy and awkward, and she has to go to three different stores to find water. I’m so lucky that she’s doing as well as she is, and so tough. Sometimes I worry for how she’ll be if I’m not around to care for her someday, but of course it’s mostly her that’s taking care of me. I’d be lost without her.
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In the afternoon we watch Maestro, which makes an excellent diversion. It’s really therapeutic to have something else to focus on than yourself for a few hours at least. And then we just hang out for the rest of the day again, watching the palm trees whip around and the rains come down.
And the, sometime around ten at night after Rachael’s been off in bed for an hour, I start feeling better.
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Best of luck with your recovery! We’ll be thinking of you.
9 months ago