... home again, and isn't it great? After some wearisome back-and-forth options offered by insurance people, I emailed our travel agent, Jan, in Grass Valley on Wednesday, and asked her to book us flights home (from Lisbon), which she did. Lisbon to Newark to Sacramento -- two long flights and one very long day -- and we arrived home on Thursday around Midnight, pretty much exhausted. Portugal is eight time zones from California.
Monarch on Bottlebrush.
Jimmy was able to see his doctor first thing Friday morning. The catheter was removed, prescription pills sorted out, advice given, and a new appointment scheduled for Monday morning. His recovery will be slow not just on account of surgery, but because his body was so depleted from vomiting and not eating. He'll have ups and downs, but overall, he's doing all right. And so am I.
Not much Friday morning traffic on Avenida do Infante, Funchal, lined by purple-flowering Jacarandas, which had already finished blooming. Many of the streets and sidewalks are cobblestone, not the easiest stuff to walk on.
Above and below: Santa Catarina Park.
Lots of folks have asked me to compare the Portugal hospital with our US hospitals. Jimmy was in the best hospital in Funchal. I believe it's a newer hospital and it was sparkling clean. Most everyone speaks English, some better than others, of course, so we were able to communicate. He was seen immediately upon entering Urgent Care and tended to speedily and with respect. "Mr James," they called him. When it was determined he needed emergency surgery, the surgeon was called at home and he was there in a flash.
On Friday morning, the group did a walking field trip to the city center. Most of these photos are from that hike. The pic above was near the park; the City of Funchal crawls up the hillsides. Every day I went to the hospital and it seemed like each taxi took a different route up into the hills where the hospital was, and for a different cost (Portugal uses Euro's).
The Cathedral in Funchal.
A wine tasting. It felt good to sit down.
As usual, I passed on the wine.
I loved all the black and white street tiles in Funchal.
While I was only able to participate in this one field trip (and enjoyed seeing a bit of the city), Jimmy saw none of it. He basically stepped off the plane straight into the hospital. He didn't get to share the king-sized bed with me, and neither of us got to walk the levadas, which was the whole point of going on this trip. Such a shame. But at least he got the medical care he needed, and so be it.
The group stopped by the colorful market with vendors selling veggies and fruit. (Which reminds me, that hospital food was awful. And Jimmy didn't get the broth and Jello he should've had post-surgery. They brought him tough chicken and potatoes and veggies. Another night it was spaghetti and meatballs. I suggested they give him food he might consider eating! Bad marks on hospital diet.)
As well as the fish market.
Strolled through old town,
with it's narrow, alley-like streets.
And on to the Atlantic Ocean, before heading back to the hotel. I didn't test the water, but I heard from others that it isn't warm. Maybe not, but I saw people swimming!
Part of the Royal Savoy Hotel.
Looks spectacular!
I left the hospital early a couple of nights so I could eat some dinner (other nights I stayed till 9:30 or 10pm). This pool looked so inviting, and on one of the days when I got back to the hotel early, I donned my bathing suit and swam around for a few minutes. The water was refreshing (my way of saying it wasn't too warm, but doable).
End of the tour ... the tour that wasn't. We were ready to board our TAP plane to Lisbon. Luckily we were able to secure a wheelchair for Jimmy for each flight, which was a godsend when you think about walking from one gate to the other that's in Timbuktu and you're as weak as a newborn.
We both thank you all for your concern and prayers and good wishes. I was grateful to be surrounded by a group of caring Road Scholar people and a group leader who facilitated a lot, while Jimmy recuperated in a hospital in a foreign country. Made it all less scary. Tell you true, though, it's wonderful to be home.