Phew, it's been a hell of a couple of weeks (hence, no blog posts in over two weeks).
As I mentioned at the end of my last post, my dad had a stroke. So I flew down to Aguascalientes, Mexico to be with him. And the flight from Washington to Dallas was the worst flight of my life.
Oh June 15, 2014, I flew on American Airlines flight 1355 from Washington Dulles Airport to Dallas Ft. Worth Airport. The flight was scheduled to depart at 3:50 PM and land at 6:00 PM. About 10 or 15 minutes before landing, as I was watching the movie Hamlet 2 on my laptop, the airplane suddenly fell, very abruptly, to the left and forward. It felt like a free-fall. I don't know how much time passed (10 second, 30 second?), but most of the passengers started screaming.
The plane soon leveled off, and we restored normal flight. The worst part is that the crew never told us what happened. No word from the flight attendants or pilots. Nothing. So I was left with the job of calming the passenger next to me, because the crew certainly didn't do their part to calm the passengers.
We soon landed at DFW, and I made my way to my next gate, where I was grateful to find a Bennigan's restaurant. I sat down and ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. I had an extremely friendly server named Adam. I told him about my horrific flight, and he was very comforting and sympathetic. He told me about his worst flight, but added that he was so drunk that he didn't care. He made me laugh and helped give me the courage to get on my next flight.
I texted my boyfriend, Eric, during my layover at Bennigan's, and told him about my ordeal. Eric looked-up my flight online and discovered that my flight dropped over 6,000 ft. in the span of a couple of minutes. Ugh.
But by the power of Long Island Iced Tea, I was able to get on my next flight to Aguascalientes. My little regional airplane shook the whole way, and I shook the whole way. But somehow I made it to my destination.
I had no time to process my terrifying flight ordeal. I was picked-up at the airport and immediately taken to the hospital where my dad was in the ICU. I was allowed into the room for a brief visit. My dad was mostly asleep, and he had the oxygen mask on, but he knew who I was. We said hello, and then I let him go back to sleep.
My dad improved the whole time I was in Mexico. I spent every day at the hospital and got 5, 6, or 7 hours of sleep every night. But there were reasons to celebrate every day. My dad walked a little more each day, and he spoke more each day, and he became more "himself" every day.
And in other good news, I was given the opportunity to reconnect with aunts, uncles, and cousins that I hadn't seen in over 10 years. Everyone was loving and supportive, and I promised all of them that I would do a better job of keeping in touch in the future. I promised to come back, and I promised to bring my boyfriend, too (who they all want to meet).
By the time I left, I knew my dad was going to recover fully. He just needs the time and space to heal.
And then I had to fly back. Ugh. I was not looking forward to getting back onto an airplane. But I had no choice. The only way home was on that airplane (and I really wanted to go home).
The Aguascalientes Airport is relatively small. There are only two gates and no bar (and I really needed a bar). But there was a little gift shop, and thankfully, that gift shop sold cans of beer. So I chugged two cans of beer before getting on that little regional airplane back to DFW. It was a shaky flight, and I shook with fear the whole flight, but there were no 6,000-foot-plunges this time.
Landed at DFW, found my next gate, and found a TGI Fridays near by. Once again, I consumed two Long Island Iced Teas before getting on my connecting flight.
And finally, a very scared, very shaky girl landed at Washington Dulles Airport at 12:40 AM on Sunday morning, June 22, 2014. And as soon as I saw Eric at baggage claim, the floodgates opened, and the tears that I had been holding back all week came flooding out.
I haven't been my usual self since getting back home four days ago. I had horrible nightmares on Sunday night (all airplane-related) that kept me up all night. Since then, I've been taking Benadryl to fall asleep at night.
I haven't worked on my book. I've barely left my house. I'm not very productive this week. But that's ok. I need to heal. This is my time to cry, to sleep, and to heal. I'm not just healing from my scary flight that plummeted 6,000 feet. I'm also healing from the sight of my dad in the ICU. He came back to us, but there were no guarantees that he would. It was an emotional week. I had to deal with a lot of family stuff that is very unpleasant to deal with. But I did it. I survived it all. I will heal from all of it. And I will move on.
Lots of love,
Leila
P.S. On a much happier note, why not watch some very happy Sherman House Webisodes at www.shwebisodes.com ?
No comments:
Post a Comment