First, it must be said: There’s no place like home. I’ve smothered all the peoples here with hugs and kisses. And the kitties, too.
To the harrow:
~Within 48 hours of my arrival in Colorado, my leg infection returned (but, hey, before it got out of control I at least got to hang out at the Hot Springs with my hot sistas, so I feel I can’t complain too too much). I got acquainted with the fine healthcare system at Swedish Medical Center and can say that if one is in need of urgent care in Denver, that is surely the place to head. Yes, I’m doing better now–started yet another round of antibiotics and spent some time with my friend vicodin.
~Coming home I had my most traumatic experience with airport security yet. I politely explained to the guard before I walked thru the metal detector that I didn’t need to remove my shoes because of my disability and I would have to be hand-searched because of my prosthetic leg. However he decided that I was being a “belligerent passenger” and called out the red alert. I ended up removing my shoes while being surrounded by several security personnel and then penned in a plexiglass enclosure.
Moments later, as the head of security was profusely apologizing me for all that had happened–I still in my socks and walking on a slick linoleum floor, slipped and fell in front of a huge crowd of onlookers. I was just mortified–at the horror of being corralled by security, at being held and treated like a criminal simply for trying to explain my needs to one over-reactive employee, and then slipping. And just feeling so vulnerable everytime a TSA employee takes advantage of me (it’s not the first time).
And, why, oh why do I not feel one whit safer in the skies with these numbnuts policing our airlines?