It's been a wild few days. There has been all sorts of drunken mayhem, teary goodbyes and white water rafting treks. Things got so bad that, at one point, our father (a State Trooper and Vietnam Vet) took to hunting down his two progeny and hammering us with paintballs 'til we squealed and begged for mercy.
Every time I've travelled abroad, before I leave, my concerns rachet up into a fever pitch of raw fear. It's a good thing I don't have to buy flights the day before I leave because with the departure so near I could never muster up the courage to actually do it. This time is no exception. At the slightest suggestion my paranoia kicks in and I expect the worse. Like, a couple days ago while at my fathers farm Elizabeth noticed a small mark on my elbow. A red circle with another concentric circle around it. It only took a moment for me to realize it was the worst possible thing: I had just contracted Lyme disease from a tick (a not uncommon occurence in upstate NY). I started freaking out, wondering with only one weekday before my flight left I could see a doctor, get diagnosed and be treated. I was wondering if I should start on a course of my freshly purchased antibiotics BEFORE I left the country (oh, the irony). I even started wondering about delaying the trip to deal with this, because Lyme disease is some really serious stuff. This is the mark that led to all that stress:
It wasn't until several hours into my ordeal with Lyme disease that Elizabeth realized that when I sat in her car my elbow rested on her doorlock in exactly the same place. And that, pressing it just so, would make a mark exactly like my "tick bite."
Nope, I'm not nervous and leaping to conclusions. Nope, not at all