Nobody wants to get sick, and especially not on vacation. But stuff happens, and life goes on, and sometimes you gotta get around however you can.
My idea of a medspa vacation seems to be sneaking off for a chest X-ray in between Epcot and Raglan Road. I thought I’d recovered from a recent bout of flu before leaving on vacation, but when I spiked a fever in transit from Boston to Orlando, I knew I had a problem. I managed to get my teenage son and myself safely to our resort late that Saturday evening, and in the morning visited a nearby urgent care clinic for diagnosis, medication, and the assurance that I didn’t have anything highly contagious. The secondary infection needed treatment (and would warrant a second urgent-care visit later in the week), but I could continue my vacation.
I thought a day of bedrest would get me on my feet. Then I thought two days of besrest would get me on my feet. Then I decided it was time for a wheelchair.