Iceland Dreams

Just woke from a dream where I was attempting to apply for a gig at a high tech company. Doing what? Fuck only knows.

I was nervous as hell. I had hearing and full mobility but I was still my big old age and we ALL are well aware that it’s the exceptionally rare company that’s going to hire someone who’s:

a) in their late 60s and 
b) been out of the workforce for a good six or seven years. 

I should have rolled in with a gracious rock star air. I’m here. You may assist me now. Oh and I’d like a bowl of M&Ms but, be a dear, remove all the red ones.

Did I? Fuck no, I was broadcasting my insecurity loud and clear.

I walked into the lobby, approached the receptionist’s desk to ask her if I could see NAME in HR (I had a name!). All of a sudden an actual grey steel physical wall shot up. She spoke at me through a slightly larger than face sized window.

This young, smartly dressed, perky, blonde, young woman gave me a quick, disdainful glance, said “he’s not seeing people today, “ and walked off as I tried and failed to get out the words “can I leave off my résumé?” I was stunned by her snot-nosed, aloof, brush off. Also wounded. Yeah, I’m old but I’m still human. If you prick me, motherfucker, do I not bleed?

Then a slightly older (still younger than me but who isn’t) woman came out of an office. She’d witnessed my curt humiliation and briefly tried to make things better. She took my résumé, promising to pass it on to HR.

I was def grateful but as I was handing it over I realized that it was not two but three pages. WHY? The formatting had gone all off when printing it out. The font was too large, the spacing too wide, and some completely unrelated copy appeared at the very top of page one. WTAF?!!!

And scene. At that horrific moment I woke up.

What’s this dream about?

In a little under two weeks Jen and I will be going off on our first vacay together in about eight years. We’re headed back to Iceland 
for four days at the Silica Hotel with its private lagoon. Yes, this is an enormous splurge. After all we’ve been through over these past ten years, we so fucking deserve this.

Here’s the thing — I haven’t traveled since I’ve become more disabled.

When Jen and I picked these dates — about six months ago, I’d figured I would have much greater mobility by now. My rehab was going well — everything looked promising. I hadn’t anticipated all the problems with my left foot. You know, the persistent, recurring, painful infections that crashed my rehabbing efforts. 

What am I afraid of? Failing vacation? Yup.

I need to take this apart piece by piece. 

• I can request wheelchair assistance at the airports. That’s a thing. 
• Jen and I can get a cab from the airport to the hotel instead of taking the bus. It’s expensive but me getting onto a Greyhound style bus is just NOT gonna happen. 
• We were never planning on doing grand hikes in the lava fields anyway. Remember me? I’m the I HATE hiking queen. We’d always planned on four days of floating in the lagoon, reading, eating snacks, and otherwise being cats. THIS I can do.
• I CAN still walk (with my rollator) just not great distances. If we want to hit the restaurants nearby, that's doable. 
• We talked about postponing the trip but I believe it’s important, critical even, for me to get over/get through my fears. I CAN do this. It's about morale. Also fun.

Also, I already postponed my colonoscopy — scheduled for Friday — because I just could NOT deal with that on top of prepping for this trip. What’s involved in trip prep? Now that my foot is finally healing I need to try walking in shoes again. I’ve been wearing sandals with socks. I know, how terribly fashionable of me. 

So, prep is mostly walking. Wish me luck.