The trip home was uneventful although long – eight hours in the air and then an arrival, around 2:45 p.m., two hours after we left.
Diane picked us up at the Boston airport, and we had considered spending the night, but Katie was full of energy and wanted to get back to see a friend who would only be home for a short while. So she drove back while I dozed. We got home around 7 p.m., or 1 a.m. in the time zone we had left.
It really wasn't so late, but I was exhausted and not feeling well. Keeping my warm coat on, I lay down on the couch and covered myself with a blanket. Maddie climbed up on the couch and kept my feet warm. Joe said I should try to stay up at least until 9, but I kept falling asleep.
I'm always very careful with my pills, but in rushing out of the Paris hotel room, I forgot them there. I had brought enough to get me through the trip and then some extra; at least my pill bottles were at home. I missed a morning dose of pills, including my prednisone. I didn't think that skipping one day of a low dose (5 mg.) would matter, but I think my weird feeling can be partially attributed to skipping the dose.
Back at home, Katie brought me a pill and a glass of water. I went up to bed around 9 and fell fast asleep, waking up at 4 a.m. and thinking that was it, but falling back asleep until around 7. Friday I wasn't with it, but today I feel better.
True confessions: I let my guard down another way on the last day of the trip. It was New Year's Day, and I wanted to get to Notre Dame before the cathedral closed. We had done other things earlier, including going back to the Eiffel Tower and walking along the Seine, admiring the bridges and the scenery. They didn't just build bridges; they created works of art.
It was getting late when we took the Metro to the cathedral. Hearing our train pull in, I ran up the stairs, lost my balance and tripped, flying onto the train and landing on my stomach with my legs partially out the door. I am not making this up, I'm sorry to say. A Frenchman sitting on the seat by the door pulled one leg in, and Katie pulled in the other. She said the man's eyes were practically popping out of his face. So were hers. First she said "Are you alright?" and then, "We could have waited for the next train!"
I lay there for a minute and then got up. I actually was OK, although VERY embarrassed. It was a reflexive reaction – see open door, run for train – rather than a thoughtful one – see open door, realize it's about to close, and wait for next train.
We got into the cathedral, where Katie said at the entrance, "Be careful – people get lost in cathedrals because they're always looking up." So of course we did get separated. When you both have cell phones it's easy to find "lost" people, but I had never gotten a European one. I looked and looked for her, to no avail. Finally I went out, and there she was outside the exit. We hugged like long lost friends.
That night my back began to hurt, and I took an Oxycodone. Maybe I was still under its effects when I forgot my pills.
In any case, it was a great trip, and I got home all in one piece.
If you want to yell at me after reading this, please don't, because I've already yelled at myself.
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