Randy’s Peruvian Adventures, 2019
September 29, 2019
I awoke last night, startled. Kernie’s voice reflected pain and fear.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, “Is it your ear?”
Returning from Cusco to Lima, Kernie, with a cold, had been unable to vent her Eustachian tubes and suffered sharp pains in the left ear. This process was repeated on our trip back to Seattle.
“No, I have a Charlie Horse in my left leg, AHHHHHH.”
I dorsiflexed the left foot firmly and then gently massaged the now-found knot of muscle. Relief came quickly. Finally, a technical intervention 18 months after retirement that seemed unambiguously helpful.
“Thank you—you are my Chuck in shining armor!”
Now that was a compliment! We spooned and quickly fell back to sleep.
Kernie and I had a post-retirement trip with Chuck and Diane in 2018 to Scandanavia. We had a great time and made plans for a long trip in 2019. Both couples felt that with aging, long travel to exotic parts of the world was becoming more and more difficult to realize. We chose Peru in part for the end points there and for me, a chance to see Machu Picchu once more. The fact that it was only three time zones away was also motivating. The plans were nine months in the making and we spent more money than usual on this trip; Diane has a high-end travel agent and he negotiated planning with Big Five, a travel company we had not used before. Kernie and I bought trip insurance for the first time. All this turned out to demonstrate our intact sense of how to plan thoughtfully. The money was well invested.
There were a number of mishaps prior to boarding our ship in Iquitos Peru, for a four night cruise through a tributary of the Amazon, the start of our Peruvian vacation. My flight from Seattle to Houston was cancelled abruptly (calling to change flights at 1-800 led to confusion as the agent told me, “My information is that that flight is on time to go.”) I lost 24 hours getting to Peru and had 12 hours to burn in Seattle (Seattle Art Museum) as well as 9 hours to burn in Newark New Jersey through that process.
I reunited at a hotel at the Lima airport with Chuck, Diane, and Kernie for 6 hours before we boarded a flight for Iquitos. Security and lines were long; we arrived to the gate as the bus to the tarmac was loading. Kernie was pulled from the line and I was not allowed to accompany her as she was taken into the bowels of the building to confront, what? A lithium ion battery was in her suitcase, now torn apart (and battery not yet found). She had been through no less than three international airports with no alarms going off getting to this point.
Kernie speaks no Spanish.
The security people spoke no English.
Eventually the problem was made clear, she found the battery and they smiled with the success, indicated she should put it in her carry-on and told her to go. She hastily re-packed knowing she was late, and got to the gate 60 seconds after they had closed it down. Diane was texting concern and my replies were not being sent via the phone carrier. We re-booked a flight two hours later and were met at Iquitos by a representative of the boat with bagged lunch, cold bottled water and a private ride 90 kilometers away to our destination. We would be on board on time. Crisis averted but a little worn from the experience.
The Delfin III was and is a very nice ride. The rooms were relatively spacious, the beds comfortable, and the air conditioning was in working order. Chuck and Diane had an expansive suite on the bow with 180 degrees of wall to wall windows. The lounge was large and comfortable; they served Capraiñas and Pisco Sours. The crew had Norstrom standard service manners—always a smile and a “buenas tardes as you passed, no matter what their function was. We had an evening excursion on the river and saw a variety of birds, jungle shoreline, and glorious cloud formations as the sun set.
No mosquitoes that night!
The following morning, the adventure began. The skiff had perhaps 12 tourists and two guides. The “naturalists” were young men who spoke enthusiastic but hard to understand English. One especially enjoyed the “find” when out of a sea of green, he could spot a sloth a hundred feet in the air. Birds were less plentiful this morning but we did run into a few groups of river otters, some in the water and some on the banks. We were regarded with cold stares and then a loping run up a bank and into the jungle. Several times, a loud puff of air would catch our attention from the bank to mid-river where we could see pink dolphins breach. We registered at a ranger station and moved on. Perhaps 90 minutes into to the morning’s run, we drifted and were invited to jump into the river. A group of Australian women were first in as was Chuck. Kernie and Diane were ambivalent but within minutes, joined us. We drifted away from the boat but had “noodles” to add security to simply floating. As we chatted at one point, my foot touched Diane who was turned a bit away from me and we both startled at the contact—she looked very frightened for just a minute and then we laughed at the sensitivity the contact which in that river and place brought out. Who’s afraid of being in the water?
I am an Airies which mostly means I look for associations that match the zodiac to my self-perception. One that holds true is I don’t particularly like water. I don’t swim; I have learned not to drown. I love to body surf and dive to the bottom to get things but to simply float and enjoy the scenery is unsettling to me—even boring. When the crewman brought out beer and suggested we float and drink beer, I took that as a sign to get out (thinking we might be leaving soon). I dried off and took pictures of Lynn (one of the Australians) flashing me the peace sign and then Diane, Kernie, and an especially ebullient Chuck, smiling with beer bottle in hand. They were twenty yards from the boat or so when I saw perhaps forty yards a way, the face of a single river otter, momentum coming upstream and clearly contemplating us. It dove.
Diane did not see it but suddenly shouted out, “I’ve been bit!” She looked scared. I, thinking of our contact, was not sure what this meant. Chuck had seen the otter and put it together. He shouted for Diane to get to the boat and he swam ahead of her, between where the otter was when last seen and her. There was, to my recollection, some confusion but no rush to the boat just yet. Chuck pounded the water with his hands (still grasping his beer bottle!) And then he too shouted, “I’m bit.” I still could not see the otter anywhere.
Panic ensued as people quickly came to the ladder and the crew, clearly worried tried to work the boat to allow re entry. The ladder simply hung on to the railing and a woman coming at it eccentrically from the side managed to unhinge one of the hooks. Trying to get her to let go for a second to re orient it took time. People came out of the water quickly but in that time both Diane and Chuck, once more made it clear, they had been bitten again. Kernie who at first was ambivalent about abandoning her noodle in the virgin forest finally let it go and came to the ladder helping people aboard but remained in the water. She had a tenuous toe grasp on the bottom rung. She had a bad elbow (pre trip) and needed help coming up. She wanted to wait for Chuck and Di to come aboard. Chuck made it up and then the Kern.
Initially Diane seemed to have only superficial bites on the shin but as she turned her foot to show me where it hurt the most there was a quarter- sized triangular flap of full thickness tear on the plantar mediolateral part of her heel. I looked at her first as she was first available and Chuck insisted I look at her first (and O’Henry would have been proud because she was saying the same of him). Kernie was negotiating towels to help staunch Chuck's bleeding. She asked and he confirmed: he takes Eliquis, a blood thinner. Despite this, a sizable clot was on the deck beneath Chucks body. Kernie was the first to evaluate Chuck’s wounds and showed me his hand first: a large flap of skin dorsally with at least one extensor tendon visible. I poured bottled drinking water over it and we applied more pressure with the flap covering the open area. I checked back with Diane and Kern called me back: “look at this toe.” I am afraid I lost my bedside manner—Chuck’s fourth toe had a spiral laceration starting from the PIP and extending both dorsally (transecting the nail) and ventrally. It was deep and I assumed it went to the bone. Only a 100 degree arc of skin flap held the soft tissue of his toe. My comment to Kernie, with Chuck looking on? “Shit!”
Chuck also had a bite on the distal leg which within 24 hours, one could see four distinct canine entry points and in between, abrasions from the intervening teeth.
As Amber would say: What a shit-show!
The skiff was now hurling down the river and phone contact was made. The aid with the first aid kit was on another boat and joined us. His kit was hopeless for this situation. He had beta dyne and a prescription bottle filled with alcohol saturated cotton balls. All this was used up quickly. He applied Silvadene ( I scowled at the futility and mis-application of that) to the puncture wounds and applied his limited quality of 2x2’s with tape to what he could. We applied pressure and by now, all active bleeding had stopped. We got to the boat in an air of somber reflection peppered with Chuck’s expressions of good attitude and concern for Diane.
At the boat, communication had already been put in place. Johnny (managed the boat on the river and was the only truly fluent English speaker) let us know he was working on an evacuation. In an hour, we had emptied to aid station on the boat of all tape, gauze dressings (1x1 and 2x2) re dressing the wounds and applied ace wraps. A float plane was being obtained and “we” would fly to Iquitos. I video-taped the the plane landing and it looked very very small. I wasn’t too sure how it dodged all the trees and debris floating on the river. We were taken out to the plane (Chuck, Diane, a boat crewman who spoke some English, and me. I think the plane (Chuck knew the design from Alaska, a Beaver model Piper) is certified to carry four people. We had five. In the heat and humidity, he headed down-stream and could not take off. Not knowing a thing about small planes, the activity was remarkable: my feet were scrunched up in the front seat in a space not unlike that back shelf of an MGB dangerously close to the dual foot controls for a co pilot. To break contact with the water, once up to speed the pilot violently jerks the hand controls forward and backward. We tried this maneuver twice before coming back to the boat to unload the crewman. I now looked at the control board on the dash and have to say, I would have been quite at home in this say, 1952. This looked like a really old and tired plane. The pilot was middle aged and occasionally gave me reassuring looks. In the back, Chuck and Diane were wedged in unable to communicate given the noise.
It took a mile going downstream to take off before we finally were in the air.
I think it took ten minutes before we broke 1,000 feet of elevation.
Iquitos never looked so good. The landing was anticlimactic and I marveled at how on a river, he could cut the propeller almost a hundred yards out and guide the plane into a narrow covered dock. A relatively large boat came at us from the right, seemingly on a collision course, and as it turned out, was full of Delphin III representatives. We were then surrounded as we got off the plane by help—-pictures were taken, concern expressed, and confidence in the next steps.
We were driven to the Clinica Adventista Ana Stahl (Google her: she and her husband were awe-inspiring people) where with no waiting, Chuck and Diane were soon camped in a private room just off the ER. Any fear I had about being in a “third world country” with all the baggage that finds in my consciousness soon evaporated. In a very timely manner, the competent nurse Dahlia removed dressing, commenting in clipped Spanish to her aid what she was thinking and soon a resident-aged doctor arrived to review what she had exposed. He was pleasant, took pictures of the wounds and tried out his English. Soon the ER doc arrived and if there is a stereotype for an ER doc, he was the Iquitos version. I felt very comfortable as we discussed Chuck’s history (everyone was freaked about Eliquis as the brand was not known to them)—“como Coumadin pero diferente”…..I felt helpful with their feedback and communicating back in forth Spanish to English and for Chuck and Diane, medical information with the attendant expectations for what next.
I looked up. Between them on the wall, was a nearly life-sized picture of what might have been me in 1973, in a stripped “Moses” robe, holding a baby lamb. I started to express this in Spanish with humor and decided I would make a mess of it. We were in an Adventist clinic.
The trauma surgeon, who served many clinics and hospitals in Iquitos arrived: Doctor Pinche. This confused me when I realized his name as in Mexican Spanish, a pinche cabron translates roughly to “fucking asshole.” As an aside, I learned that that is in fact a Mexican colloquialism (because when I brought it up, smiles and laughter at my question made clear they knew this one) and Pinche is a proper name in Peru. Dr. Pinche was a surgeon’s surgeon: laconic, soft spoken, and his one and two word expressions —“superficial —más profundo—as he examined each wound took me back to Dr. Kennedy at Natividad hospital—-his nature and expressions made me a believer and I was confident in his judgement. He clearly expressed that he thought the wounds could be cleaned and closed with little risk of disability long-term. X-rays of all sites were done to be sure about bone damage (fourth distal phalynx had an equivocal fracture). Three days of IV antibiotics (Cipro and Clinda) would be needed given the delay from time of injury to surgery. When asked, he reassured us that Nutria (river otters) do not carry rabies in South America. They were to remain npo with IV’s running and surgery would take place in a few hours with twilight anesthesia.
We were set; I got a local taxi with guide to my hotel (Victoria Regina) which was a modest hotel but my oasis for a few hours; I showered, changed clothes and rested before being driven back to the hotel; an employee of the Delphin company attended and planned for me the remaining time. I got to the hospital when Diane was out but Chuck was still in surgery. It became clear that all was going well from the surgeon’s point of view.
I met Bruno, owner of the Delfin company. Bruno is a dynamic middle aged man who by his own description, is OCD. He is gracious and guau, does he talk a lot. He compulsively would review so many things between serial phone calls mostly unrelated to us and made clear they would do everything possible to help us with vacation planning. He interacted with Big 5 representatives who communicated both concern and support. He wanted us to complete the IV treatments on the boat and had a “nurse” and a “PA” who had extensive army experience. They could manage this while Chuck and Diane would be in the very nice suite and we could be together for the remainder of the River tour.
The next day, he persisted and in retrospect pushed hard with the surgeon who again, was laconic and perhaps a little fatalistic. Sure, you can do that if you are prepared to do that.
There was a lot of activity the next morning. Chuck and Diane were feeling well enough to go with the flow; we all kept thinking of details (we’ll need heparin for a heparin lock, spare IV’s, plenty of antibiotic, dressings, and oh, yes, we need to get release of information signed to get the records and op notes for insurance and future care in the States). Medical records in Iquitos is not that different than at St Peters—-isolated from the rest of the facility and with intelligent people who have a specific process they don’t control with which to try and negotiate requests. Peru, as in the USA, requires a signature to release information. Their staff does not come to the room to get the consent; the patient comes to them. Chuck and Diane were not going to be especially ambulatory prior to leaving; Bruno was clear that he could take care of it.
So, we headed back, this time by car to Nauta, the original stepping-off place and by skiff, back to the boat. The passengers applauded our return. I met Segundo, the experienced PA and we moved Chuck and Diane back into the suite. The hospital had not allowed them to leave with IV’s intact, so the first order of business to stay on schedule with the IV antibiotics was to get new IV’s placed. The next twelve hours proved to be a throwback to a very bad night on call.
Chuck is an engineer. When his IV was placed, there was tubing and a stopcock in it to allow directional flow of fluid and IV medication. The set up (no IVAC) was very much like that Kernie I knew when we dated and then worked together in the late 1970’s. As the evening wore on, it became clear that the “nurse” and the “PA” were over their heads. Chuck was giving advice on the stopcock to the nurse in English and use of the inflow of antibiotic based on the experience in the hospital. The med was running but if Chuck got up to the bathroom, he would return with blood half-way up to the IV bottle. Meanwhile, Diane had very hard to hit veins.
Long and short: by 4AM we had run in Diane’s 8:00 dose at 10:30 with a very tenuous butterfly IV that I placed when we were down to one Angio Cath between the two of them for the next 48 hours. By 4:00 we were caught up until 8:00 and we made it clear we would be heading back to the hospital. I felt horrible as I was over my head as well and on reflection cannot forgive myself for getting on the “let’s get back to the boat” train. When I realized the two vials of heparin were gone at 4:00 AM having each been loaded into the IV fluid, and that at 8:00 both IV’s had clotted off, I remembered that principle which we (I) had violated—-primum no nocere.
Well, almost—we got back to the clinic the next morning and within an hour, IV’s were easily placed, IV antibiotics were running, and wounds re-examined. I was speechless when they hung a second bottle of Cipro and the nurse announced that in fact, the prescription had called for that dose on a q 12 schedule. I had assumed……as did the “nurse” on board the ship, that one vial was the dose. I never saw the actual prescription for the details of administration.
Ouch.
But if infection was to be avoided, the treatment rendered appears to have worked. Dr. Pinche declared his satisfaction with progress and wrote for the supplemental oral Levaquin to complete a ten day course. Off we went. Kernie and I unilaterally changed from the Victoria Regina Hotel to a Double tree as we needed the upgrade given noise, a heavy vanilla air cleaner, barely functioning air conditioner, and lack of window. Best investment I could have made in that we had a best night of sleep yet that night and in the morning, Dennis, the Delfin representative assigned to us took us for a tour of downtown Iquitos which was one highlight of our trip.
Bruno kept talking and we received attention, last minute adjustments to air flights and happily, we got a speedy and efficient tour through the terminal almost to the gate. Chuck and Di had had their seats changed to first class so as to accommodate their limited ability to walk and elevate legs. Once again, Kernie and I learned that there are advantages to boarding with people in wheelchairs……..first!
An aside: all of at the travel, attendants, and hotel stays were covered; we were never asked to pay a cent. I was offered a free drink on the boat when we got back, and I had a bourbon ($25 for a shot) on the house—too cheap to buy it at that price). All of us thought this was exceptional (and correct) but not expected. Bruno was clear that what happened was very unusual and all of us talking to different sources got a clear impression that the attack was unprecedented with tourists at least in the last 14 years (company history) and even a source outside the company. The wealthy class of diners on the boat talked up expectations with Kernie, left behind the first trip to Iquitos. There was one woman who googled (when close enough to Nauta) rabies in otters and got a hit—-and we with that fear had to do the homework to sort out she read up on otters in North America———-Another was alarmed that we did not call the US Embassy which was of unclear value to us. I don’t expect embassy staff to deal with this until there is a more concrete danger. There were of course, some who thought being treated in Peru was nuts and others who thought we could make some money suing the company. Bruno made clear the costs were covered through both the good will of the company and wanting to maintain its reputation, a genuine feeling of remorse, and he confided, we have insurance for unusual accidents……..
So, wounds dressed, strategic use of wheelchairs employed, and having personal attendants greet us, we found ourselves on a bus to a boutique hotel in Miraflores, a coastal suburb of Lima. Unfortunately, this took us 90 minutes to reach from the airport. We met the owner, had a breakdown of how the hotel worked and starving, finally made it to a restaurant. Luis, our guide, learning that we were hungry, noted this suburb was near a commercial hub where we could find a Chiles or a TGIF. He was culturally attuned to what the silence met and we enthusiastically endorsed a recommendation for a Peruvian restaurant. It turned out, there is a nice restaurant sited on the edge of a large pre Incan archeological site and we soon had reservations where we had an especially good meal, with alcohol on Chuck who wanted to express his thanks for the work we had put into our common emergency. It was a good new start. We had to be in the lobby 6AM the next morning for a trip to Cusco.
Happily, Sunday morning traffic was consistent with getting to the airport in a timely manner. Once more, my impression of Lima at sunrise is one of a large, congested, mega city with a few islands of charm. I was not disappointed to have missed my second (first was in 2002) city tour.
Cris was the big 5 guide who greeted us in Cusco. My impressions of Cusco (and Diane agreed when we left) were that is is a very pleasant surprise, not unlike Porto in Portugal. Expectations were easily surpassed. But first, Cris showed us the slums on our drive on the road to Pisac. I showed him a photo I took when traveling with Amber that showed a vista from height of the Sacred Valley (which in 2002 I did not know was called the Sacred Valley). He came to a nearby site and stopped, taking us to lunch at a small restaurant that overlooked the valley. We had great food and were introduced to a bread pudding that contrasted tapiocas-like what sweet starch with purple starch (purple corn).
Chuck and Diane’s injuries precluded exploring the Pisac archeological site, but we did go into town and explored the downtown market. The effect of the tourist industry 2002 vs 2019 was dramatic. The once local market with both arts and food is now a square surrounded with coffee houses, internet cafes, and art shops. Young adult “treckers” were everywher. The market had pretty standard fare, much of which I could purchase in the Puerto Vallarta. The food was relegated to a few tables and mats in the square. A bit of a disappointment BUT the setting was and is really remarkable. On we drove to Urumbamba where we stayed at the Sol y Luna resort. This was a vacation spot. Views of the surrounding mountains, flowers and shrubs everywhere—everyone had a private casita and walkways to a spa, reading room, and restaurants. Even the cell towers were disguised to look like local trees. Once again, I felt over my head but in this case, it was OK. Diane and Chuck wisely spent a day there with feet elevated. The Kern and I went with Cris to Ollanaytambo at sizable collection of restored ruins that rival to a degree, Machu Picchu. Walking would have been hard for foot wounds; the altitude was hard on Kernie and me—and yet the sun was out and we were feeling the love. Afterwards, we went 45 minutes by a very narrow road to Willoq, a town of some 800 people at 11,000 feet. We saw and interacted with children in school; Kernie was in her element. They sang songs to us and in return we had to sing back; the only song we could come up with was the ABC song and as it turned out, we had different endings……….it was received well. We lunched with an extended family and had a wonderful meal, all grown or harvested locally (trout and chicken, quinoa, vegetables). We brought gifts for them: a cup from Alaska from Chuck and Diane—-we were explaining the different animals on the side of the cup and the mother noted that they watched a show about animals in Alaska on TV. Given the adobe common area where the kitchen and eating areas were , we realized there was a lot not seen. We offered up a small Olympia-made glazed vessel (for drinking tea or for a flower) and a dish towel featuring the kissing statue downtown.
I think we surprised them. We bonded and my art project for the coming months are some family portraits in water color and pen and ink.
We trained to Machu Picchu the next day; Chuck and Diane were troopers. Now fitting into real shoes with no discharge on dressings, we walked slowly through the site. Some of this was altitude, some of this was the injuries, and some of it was the crowd. I remember feeling something close to spiritual when I first saw these ruins. I did not feel it this time but again, was thankful for its discovery and the sheer magnificence of its design and location. Young women getting screenshots for Facebook at choke point iconic doorways were the only negative on the day.
When you stay in Aguas Calientes (the town at the base of the Machu Picchu site) there are a few hotels and a lot of hostels. We stayed at the Inkaterra which as it turns out, was the same place Amber and I stayed at in 2002. Magnificent and relaxing. It is now a 5 star (remember, Big 5!) With dinner included in the price of staying. And dinner was almost Michelin level service and food! I had to negotiate drinks at the bar and finally had my first bourbon since the freebee on the boat. It, as well as dinner and a shared bottle of Malbec was really nice. We stayed in the next day until 5:00PM. Kernie, Diane, and I went on an Eco tour with the guide from the hotel and had a 90 minute walk in the cloud forest learning about some 45 different species of orchids which to see in some cases, required a magnifying lens. There were bugs and birds and ultimately, a rock face with a 4,000 year old marking:
The treat for this part of the trip was a train back to Cusco on the Hiram Bingham train. Intended to draw the Orient Express crowd but only different…..all were in casual gear, in some cases not changed since the hike up the mountain. The setting and service was nice, the car looked like it was from off the movie set. Once up and running, all were invited to the bar where a three piece band was playing “Layla” and later, “Satisfaction.” They apparently researched the demographics for the trip. It was standing room only. We stayed put and had a fine time though we traveled at night and could not see the magnificence of the view as seen from the train. Our morning in Cusco allowed for sight seeing and the last half of the afternoon off. All of us were bushed by then and we ate in. The next morning, Kernie, Diane and I did a short walk to San Blas and the Plaza de Armas. It was time to go home.
Oh, did I forget?
I did: reflecting on our experience, when we arrived in Lima from Iquitos, a small bag of caramels was offered and they were good. The night before we took the train to Aguas Calientes, Kernie fractured her left lower #2 molar; pulp was exposed. Hmmmmmm- gut it out with naprosyn? Go to a pharmacy for some clindamycin as back up? We mentioned the problem to Cris who noted: “Man, I feel your pain; that happened to me ten days ago!” Kernie let him know that if he could recommend a dentist, we would go. He called and set up a time with the dentist, Henry, would come get us at the Inkaterra, in the lobby. We were there (Kernie actually suggested that she would go in alone for this. I would not miss this for the world!) But as it turns out, there were two lobbies so at five minutes past the waiting time, I went to the second reception, Kernie looking down and out in the first and I came upon Rosemary who in Spanish the hours before, had expressed deep pride for the hotel, the town, and indeed her country. I let her know we were waiting for a dentist and she smiled pointing to the small statured gentleman next to her. “We were trying to figure out who was supposed to meet him.”
Henry walked us to his office while he took the history from me. His office was crowded and had not been cleaned up at the end of the day; he had no nurse. I translated and he made it clear he would try to do the work without anesthesia but could apply it if she requested. Kernie has had trismus that was months in the resolving long ago, so with butterflies in her stomach, was OK with this arrangement. Confidence had occurred when she looked at the work table and saw he was going to work with acrylics that require UV to harden—-same technology as in the US. He in fact was worried that she had mercury amalgam on two teeth and in Spanish, he reviewed the concerns and asked that she address this with her dentist! He asked if we wanted definitive care or patching and I was clear a patch would do. He was fine with that and proceeded. “Levantan los manos si le duele.”
Drill sounds; a compressor pumping away but no suction device in her mouth. Fingers begin to twitch. Fluid overflows her mouth and he, with embarrassment directs her to the spit bowl. It is dirty. He detects the motion of her fingers and asks in Spanish is she OK and is she in pain? She raises her hand with a thumbs up sign. He is confused and looks to me. I let him know he can continue. The acrylic is mixed and fixed and five minutes later, we are done. Kernie is glowing with gratitude and, I explained what thumbs up means. The bill was $80 for half an hour’s work. Everyone was happy!
They joy of seeing the children and family in Wiloq was off-set by the natural consequence of such a visit. No, not turista, simply the common cold.
So as we rested the day after hiking Machu Picchu, our throats got sore, we sneezed,
eyes watered and there was a hint of cough. For me, it
was a nuisance that mostly resolved before we left. For the Kern, she had much congestion that was enough to block her Eustachian tubes which while at elevation in Cusco did not cause much problem, but as we descended into Lima, she was miserable and despite active attempts to provide positive and negative pressure, got relief on one side when she got a small tear in the ear drum (she can hear the air pass and pain was relieved). The left remained a problem that resurfaced on the way home to the States. We are still working on that……
There are vacations and there are trips. What was a vacation turned into more of a trip though there were elements of both and frankly, this is going to be one of the most memorable trips I have ever taken. One of the Big 5 reps, (Luis in Lima) asked why we were so good natured after so many problems. I waxed philosophical: Viktor Frankl is a favorite of mine and so I reflected him: There are three critical issues in a person’s life that give life meaning. Work, Love, and Suffering. I think he would agree that suffering, the measure of suffering, is on a sliding scale but the point remains. How you deal with life when you are suffering as an opportunity for growth and hopefully, enrichment, and despite the problems of this trip, it was a deep, interesting, and valuable experience to all of us.
RAM 2019
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