Day Seven
Friday, 2 March 2001
"Ain't no sunshine when we're gone"
The wake-up call came at 4:45 A. M. ACK! I am NOT a morning person.
P. F. and I began throwing the last things together and getting ready for the day. We dragged the girls out of bed, and Chicken Girl finally admitted that she didn't feel particularly well.
We stumbled down to the lobby and met our limo driver at 6:00. (Interestingly enough, it was NOT the person who took us to the resort from the airport. I feel CERTAIN he was fired.) Chicken Girl seemed unusually subdued.
The ride to the airport was uneventful. The "event" began when we attempted to check in at curbside and the agent couldn't find us on the flight list. (He did find us--eventually.)
Our flight was not crowded at all, so we were able to sit in a "lounge" configuration (an area of six seats) again. P. F. and I designated the children to have the honor of flying backwards! I did NOT want to repeat that experience.
I noticed that something was wrong with Chicken Girl. She had a strange look in her eyes, and she seemed intent on making her friend, Chocoholic, miserable. She seemed wired!
As we approached the airport, our plane made a horrible noise. P. F. looked at me and said, "This is it. We're going to die." I thought that perhaps we should not panic needlessly, so I gave her a reassuring grin and said, "Well, I surely have enjoyed traveling with you."
I forgot the possibility of dying when I realized that my daughter was in great pain. She was crying, and she said that her ears hurt. I told her to swallow, and P. F. gave her some chewing gum. Nothing helped.
We did land without incident. Whereas we had been in sunny Florida with 85 degree days, reality was upon us. We already knew (from phone conversations with our husbands) that rain had moved into the area when we left last Saturday. It had rained constantly since then. We returned to 45 degrees and rain. Yuck.
As we waited at baggage claim, I was horrified to see a suitcase with a zipper pouch open. "Delicates" were hanging out everywhere. At first I feared that the suitcase was mine; then, it occurred to me that I didn't own any undergarments that color. When I glanced over at P. F., I knew whose bag it was! The expression on her face was priceless. It was like being in a movie--where everything moves in slow motion. She was waiting, and waiting, and waiting for that dang bag to get to her so she could snatch it off the carousel and cram her "personal items" back inside. TOO FUNNY!
We loaded our bags onto carts and headed outside. I knew I was back in the deep South when one of my bags fell off my cart and two men nearly resorted to fisticuffs over which one would be the one to throw it back onto the cart. Chivalry is not dead here. However, it's probably wasted on a person such as myself!
I was really getting concerned about Chicken Girl, so I called to see if I could make an appointment with our physician.
We drove home in the pouring rain, and I worried about my child. She hadn't seemed "herself" all week, but she had seemed able to function as long as I allowed her plenty of time in the room to rest. Now I was really worried. She seemed really sick.
The bad news got worse when my husband called to announce that he had to go to New Orleans on business. Chicken Girl and I were so disappointed (and so was my husband). We had missed each other, and now we'd have to wait another day to see each other.
After unloading our bags and unpacking some of them, I took Chicken Girl to the doctor's office. It was bizarre. She seemed tired and irritable en route, but, once there, she was pleasant and energetic. The doctor said, "Well, she certainly doesn't ACT sick!"
I told him that we had been at WDW and that I had wrestled with what to do all week. I knew that she seemed ill at times, and I had tried to make her rest then. However, at other times she seemed perky. He examined my daughter, and then he seemed genuinely surprised. Chicken Girl is going to be win an Academy Award someday. She had convinced me off and on all week that she had a common cold. NOT!
Chicken Girl is SICK: The physician announced that she has bronchitis, pneumonia, and an ear infection. I was horrified. "OH MY GOSH!" I said. "I have had this child at Disney World all week!" I was very upset with myself and chagrined that my child had been so sick for two days without my realization of the serious nature of her illness.
The doctor was great. He said, "Listen, you did fine. You didn't know. Hey! When I observed her in the room, I didn't think she was terribly sick myself! She probably did seem fine after you treated her symptoms and made her rest in the room. She needs some antibiotics and some more rest, but she's going to be okay."
I felt like the worst mother on the planet. I could kick myself for not taking my child to the hospital in Orlando.
Thus ended our Disney adventure. I am not going to be the Mother of the Year, but, goodness knows, I tried.
Chicken Girl is taking her medicine, so I hope to see improvement soon.
I always say that a bad day at Disney World is better than a good day at work. I hope that we can apply that to being sick too. Maybe being sick at WDW is better than being sick at home!
It was not a typical trip for us, and lots of things went wrong. But, all in all, it was great to spend time with my child, and I feel so lucky and blessed to have her in my life, and that I was able to give her such a special birthday gift.
I hope that she'll remember the fun we had--and not the hours she spent in bed resting--and not the sore throat!
Thanks for joining us!
[This message was edited by Chelley on 03-04-01 at 01:22 AM.]
Friday, 2 March 2001
"Ain't no sunshine when we're gone"
The wake-up call came at 4:45 A. M. ACK! I am NOT a morning person.
P. F. and I began throwing the last things together and getting ready for the day. We dragged the girls out of bed, and Chicken Girl finally admitted that she didn't feel particularly well.
We stumbled down to the lobby and met our limo driver at 6:00. (Interestingly enough, it was NOT the person who took us to the resort from the airport. I feel CERTAIN he was fired.) Chicken Girl seemed unusually subdued.
The ride to the airport was uneventful. The "event" began when we attempted to check in at curbside and the agent couldn't find us on the flight list. (He did find us--eventually.)
Our flight was not crowded at all, so we were able to sit in a "lounge" configuration (an area of six seats) again. P. F. and I designated the children to have the honor of flying backwards! I did NOT want to repeat that experience.
I noticed that something was wrong with Chicken Girl. She had a strange look in her eyes, and she seemed intent on making her friend, Chocoholic, miserable. She seemed wired!
As we approached the airport, our plane made a horrible noise. P. F. looked at me and said, "This is it. We're going to die." I thought that perhaps we should not panic needlessly, so I gave her a reassuring grin and said, "Well, I surely have enjoyed traveling with you."
I forgot the possibility of dying when I realized that my daughter was in great pain. She was crying, and she said that her ears hurt. I told her to swallow, and P. F. gave her some chewing gum. Nothing helped.
We did land without incident. Whereas we had been in sunny Florida with 85 degree days, reality was upon us. We already knew (from phone conversations with our husbands) that rain had moved into the area when we left last Saturday. It had rained constantly since then. We returned to 45 degrees and rain. Yuck.
As we waited at baggage claim, I was horrified to see a suitcase with a zipper pouch open. "Delicates" were hanging out everywhere. At first I feared that the suitcase was mine; then, it occurred to me that I didn't own any undergarments that color. When I glanced over at P. F., I knew whose bag it was! The expression on her face was priceless. It was like being in a movie--where everything moves in slow motion. She was waiting, and waiting, and waiting for that dang bag to get to her so she could snatch it off the carousel and cram her "personal items" back inside. TOO FUNNY!
We loaded our bags onto carts and headed outside. I knew I was back in the deep South when one of my bags fell off my cart and two men nearly resorted to fisticuffs over which one would be the one to throw it back onto the cart. Chivalry is not dead here. However, it's probably wasted on a person such as myself!
I was really getting concerned about Chicken Girl, so I called to see if I could make an appointment with our physician.
We drove home in the pouring rain, and I worried about my child. She hadn't seemed "herself" all week, but she had seemed able to function as long as I allowed her plenty of time in the room to rest. Now I was really worried. She seemed really sick.
The bad news got worse when my husband called to announce that he had to go to New Orleans on business. Chicken Girl and I were so disappointed (and so was my husband). We had missed each other, and now we'd have to wait another day to see each other.
After unloading our bags and unpacking some of them, I took Chicken Girl to the doctor's office. It was bizarre. She seemed tired and irritable en route, but, once there, she was pleasant and energetic. The doctor said, "Well, she certainly doesn't ACT sick!"
I told him that we had been at WDW and that I had wrestled with what to do all week. I knew that she seemed ill at times, and I had tried to make her rest then. However, at other times she seemed perky. He examined my daughter, and then he seemed genuinely surprised. Chicken Girl is going to be win an Academy Award someday. She had convinced me off and on all week that she had a common cold. NOT!
Chicken Girl is SICK: The physician announced that she has bronchitis, pneumonia, and an ear infection. I was horrified. "OH MY GOSH!" I said. "I have had this child at Disney World all week!" I was very upset with myself and chagrined that my child had been so sick for two days without my realization of the serious nature of her illness.
The doctor was great. He said, "Listen, you did fine. You didn't know. Hey! When I observed her in the room, I didn't think she was terribly sick myself! She probably did seem fine after you treated her symptoms and made her rest in the room. She needs some antibiotics and some more rest, but she's going to be okay."
I felt like the worst mother on the planet. I could kick myself for not taking my child to the hospital in Orlando.
Thus ended our Disney adventure. I am not going to be the Mother of the Year, but, goodness knows, I tried.
Chicken Girl is taking her medicine, so I hope to see improvement soon.
I always say that a bad day at Disney World is better than a good day at work. I hope that we can apply that to being sick too. Maybe being sick at WDW is better than being sick at home!
It was not a typical trip for us, and lots of things went wrong. But, all in all, it was great to spend time with my child, and I feel so lucky and blessed to have her in my life, and that I was able to give her such a special birthday gift.
I hope that she'll remember the fun we had--and not the hours she spent in bed resting--and not the sore throat!
Thanks for joining us!
[This message was edited by Chelley on 03-04-01 at 01:22 AM.]
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