The pain of travel

As we get closer and closer to leaving (its just 7 weeks now), those dreams of travel are becoming less nebulous and hazy and more and more solid. Reality has begun to bite and I have to say, I’m starting to feel quite  nervous about a great many things – big things like language, illness and money I guess have always been there. A little in the background perhaps dazzled by the images of rice paddies, bamboo forests, mountains, glaciers, new cultures… there, they’ve faded once more as I drift into contemplation of the wonderful opportunities that we’ll have.  Since they’ve always been there, like familiar monsters, they seem less worrisome somehow, perhaps we’re comfortable with the answers I don’t know. Nevertheless, there’s a torrent of little things, things not previously considered, things that suddenly spring to mind and demand a place in the expanding lists in my ever present red notebook. The devil’s in the detail and I guess my worry is that one of these innocent tiny ‘to-dos’ will be the unspoken nightmare lurking in the reality of our dream.

In two ways, the pain has arrived in a much more real way.

We’re now 7 injections into a series of 10 to complete our immunisation programme (we’re having/had hep a and b, yellow fever, rabies, thyphoid and TB). I’m not sure if Nurse Maria quite knew what had hit her when we all piled in for the first visit to the surgery last month and I know that Will certainly hadn’t really twigged what was going on. In fact, both Jo and I commented afterwards that it was one of the first trip related things we’d done as a family and that it was quite exciting. How little we knew! Although Maria has been excellent, the anticipation is now too much for poor Will and he now works himself into a state before each injection. Reason, bribery, distraction all have done little to help and I have had  to resort to cuddling him tightly to stop him hurting himself. I’m not sure what the patients in the waiting room thought was going on but, after his yellow fever injection, the family left by a secret backdoor! As soon as the injection is done, he’s fine and within a minute he’s back to our non stop happy duracell bunny with only the fresh scars on my heart as evidence. Not sure how we’ll cope with the next three.

The second reality bite has come for Ellie who has coped with injections with no problems. However yesterday, Jo and I had to have a very difficult conversation with her about her guinea pig Bertie. Amongst the lists in my red notebook are two seemingly unlinked items – ‘organise animals’ and ‘house insurance’. We had a kind offer from a friend to visit and look after the pets in their winter cage in the garage. Unfortunately looking at the house insurance in more detail, it’s likely that I’ll need to disconnect the water and possibly the power. Given also the length of time we’ll be gone, Jo and I have come to the reluctant conclusion that it may be better to find the animals a permanent new family. Cue more cardiac scar tissue. She’s a clever girl, my Ellie May, and I’ve no doubt that she understands the rational logic and may eventually accept the arguments, but she’s also wonderfully compassionate and loving and for a while it was more than she could bear.

The trip is going to be great and life changing and awesome but will test us as individuals and as a family. I think we’re strong enough, bring it on.