Puke and Rally

Every since I was a kid I've been, what my family calls "a nervous nelly."  Change is never and has never been my friend.  All sorts of normal childhood things bothered me: riding the school bus, swimming lessons, any sort of after school activity. When I got nervous, I'd puke.  As soon as I'd puke I would be okay.  Not great, but no longer a big ole mess.  This got to the point where it became legendary in my family.  Add to this nervousness a wicked penchant for car sickness and I have puked quite a bit.  To this day I still get a free pass to ride in the front seat of any vehicle that any relative of mine might be driving.  They take my puking seriously.

Thankfully it has been years since this has been a problem.  Riding the bus on Saba was a little iffy for a while.  Imagine little ole carsick me riding in the back seat of a 15 passenger van that has at least 15 people and their backpacks sardined into it at a high rate of speed up and down a windy mountain road.  Amazingly, I didn't puke, not even once the whole time on the island.

My non-puking streak was finally broken the other day.  I admit it- I was nervous about moving to NYC.  I hate moving to being with and this will be my third state in as many months (Florida, Louisiana, now New York).  My flights here took me from Gainesville to Atlanta, then Atlanta to New York.  The Gainesville to Atlanta flight is short.  That should be good right?  No.  Not good at all.  The whole time it felt like the pilot was waggling the wings. And it was hot.  So hot and wobbly.  It was not good.  Not good at all.  I could feel my stomach starting to get queasy and the heat wasn't helping, so I started stripping off as many of my layers as I could.  There were those little air-sickness bags in the seat backs.  Before I could grab one the sweet lady beside me makes eye contact, hands me her air-sickness bag and a pamphlet to fan myself with.  I quickly vomit.  It's gross. And now I'm stuck holding a bag full of my own vomit.  Which is more gross.  The sweet lady beside me decides to talk to me to distract me and just in general be an awesome human being.  She helped me rally.

(To the medical coder from Hawthorne who was going to Houston to help her daughter the engineer pick out a wedding dress: Thank you, I was gross and embarrassed and you were lovely.)

Getting off that plane was like a giant weight coming off my shoulders.  But then I had to run to get on the next plane.  That leg of the trip was fine. And the retrieving of the bags was fine.  And the procuring of the taxi was fine.  The riding in the taxi was not so fine.  I thought Miami drivers were crazy.  Miami drivers ain't got nothing on New York drivers.  That taxi ride should have taken ~ 25 minutes.  It took forever.  Pretty sure I aged 10 years in that taxi.  If I had anything at all left in my stomach I would have been tossing my cookies.  It was so bad that I was really really happy that I had already thrown up so I couldn't throw up anymore.  Finally, about 45 minutes into this taxi ride we find my apartment.  Find being the operative word there.  Did I mention that I had to GPS the address on my phone for the driver?  And that he still got lost?

When I finally made it to our apartment I had the strong urge to throw myself onto the furniture and yell "HOME."  Thankfully, our apartment is awesome.  And our neighborhood is awesome.  And the hospital isn't terrible.  And I haven't died in the coldtimes.  And the sun is shining.  So many things to be thankful for.  So many things to rally for.

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