Tropical Christmas (Part Three)

Part Three: Down and Out

Actually, this title is something of an understatement: "down," sure enough, we had covered; but "out"--well, after more nights of sleep deprivation than I care to count, "out" would have been just lovely.

Look back at the last post and find the picture of Kory, Wes, Paige and Charlie, near the end, sitting outside our favorite restaurant.  Note Charlie's expression.  That, as it turned out, was not only exhaustion.  After drinking a big mango smoothie, and eating almost nothing of his dinner, sitting on Suzy's lap pretty much the whole while, he got home, said goodnight and goodbye to Grandma and the Foas, then crawled into bed, fell asleep, and, an hour later, puked up all that smoothie.  Suzy was, by that time, giving her sister and mother the real taste of Costa Rican driving I told you about, not only lost and exhausted herself, but also adding legitimate fear that the clutch of our car might go out.

She made it back, of course,  just in time to help with another, smaller spit-up from Charlie, then fell asleep herself, only to wake up next to a sick husband.  Wouldn't you know it, while taking care of the Bird, I had just arrived at the conclusion that, after 6 months in Costa Rica relatively unscathed, I must have a hardy nature--the words were so clearly formed in my head, I essentially spoke them.  That next day, I gradually became undeniably sick.  The day following, I was out of commission, not eating, not even getting out of bed, and much, much humbler.

Sickness, rare as it has been for Suzy and me since the babies were born, now always comes with an extra weight: guilt, because it hoists so much upon the healthy other--and Suzy needed rest as much as anyone in the world, before her father's arrival.  "Perhaps," I thought while lying there, "this is perfect timing," and, due to a Christmas package that came from my mother and father, the kids had something to distract them (and Suzy) from their illness.  The best distraction, though, was the thought of Papa, whom we anticipated with great eagerness, regardless of our conditions (--and, with great eagerness, we also awaited the treats he promised to try to bring--the kids had requested doughnuts and TV).

Well, I was right about the timing--for me, anyway.  When Tom arrived, I was feeling fine, but Kiefer, Charlie and Scout, all gifts despite, including the third round of Christmas that Papa unloaded upon them, were getting crushed--crushed much like the box of Krispy Kreme he managed to get through customs.  As for Suzy, she was tired, but bucking up in a way that seems to me to define motherhood; which is to say, nothing but motherhood seems to draw one so close and so consistently to the dictates of necessity.  Truly, I don't know how she does it.  That said, this round of tests was only just beginning.  Look at poor Kiefer's eyes in the pictures below.

Vomit, coughs, even pink eye--one morning, Charlie woke up with his eyes sealed shut, and both Scout and Kiefer fell in quick succession.  The worst of it all, though, was that we couldn't really get help.  Three different health care professionals prescribed three totally different drug cocktails, so that, in the end, we had literally 7 or 8 different medicines on the shelf, and sometimes as many as four coursing through each of our three at once.  My favorite part was when I found a nice, miraculously convenient clinic with a pleasant, young English-speaking doctor, who took us in right as we arrived, thoroughly examined Kiefer, confirmed that he had a typical virus, and then prescribed us two different drugs we could not buy--not in the adjacent pharmacy, nor in any other (Papa and I watched them call the rest)--she prescribed two drugs you cannot get in Costa Rica, period.  Now, that was helpful.

I ended up buying supposed equivalents, came home, and, after the sense of relief I was first feeling wore off (--I'm always slow in processing my feelings), became as flabbergasted and frustrated as I have yet been in Costa Rica.  In the end, I called up Kory (--she and Paris are my health care gurus), and she looked everything up, and helped us administer the drugs a bit more judiciously.  In truth, I only needed one thing--something to help us all sleep--that was the only effect I was after anymore.  The boys' hacking came on so strongly in the night that they would puke up swallowed phlegm, and Suzy and I, eventually taking turns rushing in to help, never slept for more than one or two hours at a time, throughout and beyond Papa's entire stay.

Well, as you might suspect, this altered our original plans with Papa.  We cancelled our trip to Drake Bay, cancelled our reservation of a rental car, and stayed close to home instead, hoping, initially, to turn the corner on the boys' colds, but, when realizing we could not do that, contenting ourselves to make the most of what is nearby.  There is a lot nearby, fortunately, and Edgar, our mechanic, gave us a temporary fix on the car's clutch, so we reoriented ourselves as well as we could.

But if Wes, Paige and Maggie's flexibility and positive spirit is a reflection of their parents' characters, then you would not have to look farther than Papa for the primary source of that spirit.  (Martha is, of course, something of the source too, if not the bulk of it, as Tom, himself, always readily admits, but, all I am saying is you would not have to look farther than Tom for it.  He refused to let himself, his hopes or expectations, be any kind of a weight upon us.  We, ourselves, he assured us, were his only objective for the week, and, boy, did he get what he came for.)

Nevertheless, we did summon the strength and will to check out Irazu, the nearest volcano, on the spur of a moment more than halfway through Tom's visit.  Surprise, surprise, we arrived too late, after eating lunch on the side of the mountain, and after taking this strange picture outside the restaurant.  Look how pretty it is.  Que linda, right?  Who would have thought that the peak was, past 11:00, interminably swallowed by low-lying clouds?  The ticket-lady actually told us not to waste our money, and so we didn't.  We turned around.

But, on our way home, we checked out the famous basilica of Cartago--famous, more for its relative historical importance, than for its grandiosity.  It was cool, though--reminded me of those immense achievements of art and sculpture, of dyed glass, ornament, of faith and power in Europe, and of how much I loved visiting them, and being in them, and it counted for something, I felt, to offer such a parallel.

The next day, we took a different tack, affording the sickos a bit of rest. Suzy and her father left them with me, and took a day with Oscar and his family at his work.  I had done this once before, while Grandma was here, and it was an incredible, eye-opening experience, though nothing to blog about, I feel.  I think the day with Oscar was also eye-opening for Tom and Suzy, but you'll have to ask them about it...

A bit more rested and further along the course of our convalescence, on the eve of Papa's departure, with a much better plan in place, we set out early for Volcan Poas, a spot we had long been wanting to check out.  It was great--and cold, though Tom (and how symbolic is this?) pulled the whole thing off in a pair of shorts.

It was the wind that got you, and Scout, though feeling the best of the three, was the least amused by it, great view or not.  But we found a good wall to tuck ourselves behind, and took a few more good shots.

After checking out the crater and its marble blue sulfuric center, we turned up a neat jungle path and found a beautiful lagoon at its end.

The clouds rushed in, and we went back the way we came, which, both because it was downhill and because the trees and foliage again provided refuge from the chilling gusts, we enjoyed much more than endured.  The kids made it out pretty well, and except for a shoulder ride that ended up with a bit of phlegm-puke on Papa's head, so did we adults.

Then, by car, we adventured to La Paz, a huge waterfall on an alternative route home.  The kids all fell asleep on our way to see it, but once we were there, Kiefer woke up, and, as is his wont, was totally available to the moment, and adorable.  His ears registered the crashing sound, his eyes lifted to see through the suddenly wet windshield and rising mist the tumbling cataract, and then he said, "Whoa, when did that happen?!"  Love that guy.

With wonderful vistas all the way there and back, a fresh and delicious trout lunch, a pack of coatis on the side of the road, and this awe-inspiring waterfall, whose name means "Peace," the day trip to Poas proved delightful.  No, not the sea, nor having much if any of the attractions of Drake Bay, I'm guessing, but it was, nevertheless, a trip we loved and feel we must make again and again, as awesome as easy.  And in the heads of our children, for whom every chance is an adventure no less exciting than the next or last, Poas and La Paz belong to Papa.

He was, not surprisingly, totally adjustable and fun the whole trip--was even happy to gain in exchange for any kind of touristy draw a more genuine experience of life with the DeStefanos, and a chance to help as well, which he always relishes.  Life with the DeStefanos, when dealing with illness, is genuine and revealing, but tricky.  Ask Papa about his last night of sleep in Costa Rica, if you doubt it.  But I am glad we were able to tack Poas on the tail end of his trip, if for no other reason than to help define it--help remind us all how great it is to be in his company, regardless of pretty much any conceivable circumstance.  Thanks, Papa.  You turned what would have been merely a difficult end to our Christmas break into a seamless celebration of dear family and wondrous life.

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And that thus concludes the "Tropical Christmas" updates.

So, do I think one can have too much vacation?  I cannot say.  There are too many variables for a simple answer to suffice--or, really, for even the question to make much sense at all.  And our sickness, we believe, was more random than the result of any of this filtered context.  What I will tell you, though, is that if I had this very break to do again, and was unable to alter any part of it, even in its smallest aspect, I would take it in a heart beat.  Just so.  We are lucky to have what we have, to know and be a part of the lives of those whom we know, and that goes for all of you reading this back in the States.  No complaints here--ever.  Thank you all for following along, and merry belated Christmas to you all.