Back in early February, before my heart lost its rhythm, I'd been invited for an all-expenses-paid week-long stay by my cousin Penny's paternal cousin, Jeff of Nebraska.
"February 9, fb message: Hi Tina! Hey my friend Sean and I have rented a house on St.George Island May 14th through 21st of this year. Penny will join us there and I hope you will come too! This is your official invite! Sean and I will arrive in Tallahassee sometime in the evening of the 13th. We can't actually check in until 3pm in the 14th and may not be able to get in the house until 6pm. But we will have the house all week so PLEASE JOIN US! The house is already paid for. All you need to bring is yourself and the stuff you need for the beach. Sean and I will buy groceries and pay for our restaurant (The Blue Parrot) visits which will be frequent. I miss and love you Tina! Please say you will join us!
Oh we are staying in the home called "GIMME SHELL'TER" it is viewable on the Fickling real estate site. Look at it, it's perfect for a get together!"
And it was, too!
As I had replied, "That sounds fantabulous! It's been decades since I've been there. My chem nerds fraternity rented a house there for spring break, so long ago. Yes, I gladly accept! What a bonus to stay in the house named for a Rolling Stones song!"
Then came three hospital visits, with two overnight, for multiple attempts at getting my heart rate back to its regular pace.
Yeah, yeah, yeah... no (as that guy on "The Vicar Of Dibley" would say), that still hasn't happened, and Tuesday made three months since the diagnosis of atrial fibrillation.
Not that there hasn't been progress, because there certainly has been.
The atrial fibrillation is gone, and I'm quite possibly going to be on Sotalol for a year to try to keep it from returning.
The new problem are the dizzy spells from that anti-arrhythmia drug, due to my new heart rate down in the low forties.
So, limited highway driving during daylight, low-traffic, periods, and absolutely no driving after dark. Period. Not even in town.
That means I wouldn't have been able to leave today and head to Tallahassee to join the group that'll be vacationing on that Florida island beach.
Fine.
All I would need to do is drive to Hinesville and catch a ride with her and the girls, then plan to stay overnight with them, so I could return to Savannah in daylight.
That sounded like a working plan to her!
We made sure to get our tickets on Tuesday, so we would have the "early bird" discount - and the two girls were young enough to be free!
Woohoo!
Then she called today.
She had run into the back of someone's vehicle, and, although she and the older girl were fine, the van was not, and possibly would not be for some time.
So, she posited, why don't I drive to Hinesville Saturday morning, transfer the girls' safety seats into my car, then drive to Statesboro for the festival?
Well, that maybe could have worked, if she could drive stick shift... but she can't.
That meant all the driving, with much of it at highway speeds, would fall on me.
Three hours, at a minimum, probably more like four and a half.
But that wasn't the worst of it.
I'd also have to drive back to Hinesville, in the dark, at highway speeds.
I can only imagine how scrambled my nerves would be by that point, if I were even able to complete such a mission.
I had to explain to her that I was not yet at the point in my healing that I could do that.
I also told her that the Universe must be sending me the message to stay in town this weekend, as I'd had two good reasons for leaving and both had been quashed.
I don't know that she quite believed that, but she didn't deny the theory.
Now, I'll be curious to see what happens tomorrow.
At least I'll be part of the food drive.
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