Day 5 — Sunday, July 4th

Sick. Sick, sick, sick.

I stay in the room and play Star Wars Galaxies (yeah, Brett, I’m still there), read some blogs, watch some TV. The gym is closed, so I have nothing to do. Bwain’s ankle is still swollen, too.

Dustin and I do dinner in the hotel cuz I’m in no condition to go to Cathi’s sister’s barbeque, dammit. Happy 4th of July, America! I’m in a foreign country again, hehehe!

Day 6 — Monday, July 5th (The real Cathi Day)

It is 4:30am and I wake up in the middle of a heavy panic attack. The meds, coupled with some alcohol and quite possibly the thought of getting back on an airplane, drive me to the lobby for about an hour and a half of pacing.

I hate these episodes. I had one in San Diego, too. There is no explanation for why they suddenly overwhelm me, but they do. It feels as if my heart will not stop racing until it is exhausted enough to altogether expire, and my mind sprints through a million things I’d rather it not sprint through. It is a nightmare. The hotel security checks my room key to be certain I belong there. I am clearly in distress but unsure of how to get help if the attack does not let up. This isn’t home, after all, where the paramedics know me well. This isn’t even =America= where I’m certain my health insurance plan is universal — what do I do if I climb into an ambulance only to be told my Blue Cross/Blue Shield is not valid? The security guard is sympathetic after a fashion and fills my water bottle for me when I’ve run out of fluid.

Eventually the two extra Xanax I have taken kick in and the panic attack subsides. I manage to hobble on up to bed and sleep my way through the time I am supposed to be in the gym. So I only get a half-hour of work-out before Cathi calls and says she’s heading my way in a couple of hours.

Armed with boxes of chocolate-covered macadamia nuts (yeah, some of you are jealous, I know), I meet up with Bwain for lunch. We make a return trip to the Thai restaurant because it’s close to his office, which is close to the hotel. Aftewards, I manage to load up on souvenir Two-Bite Brownies for my boss and staff before returning to the Sandman. I have about fifteen minutes before Cathi arrives.

When I get downstairs to meet her, she is on the pay phone trying to track her mobile phone down, as it got inadvertantly switched while she was at the Telus outlet. After that, we hop in the car and cavort — she drives me through Stanley Park, where we stop to take the obligatory “Babs as tourist” photo, then rush about gathering hockey equipment for her son, Morgan.

After that it’s a quick trip by her sister Margaret’s house, a beautiful two-story with a lush backyard in the suburbs of North Vancouver. Here’s a photo of Cathi and Margaret on her back porch. Then there’s this photo of Cathi and me on that same back porch.

When we return to the hotel, we find Brian well enough to join us for dinner. The Pan Pacific’s 900 Club, which reputedly has the best prime rib in Vancouver, is closed for the night, so we opt to hit another popular restaurant chain called Keg’s. I can’t say that this is the best prime rib dinner I have had, but it is very good. Their escargot was as good as, or better than, most I’ve eaten around the world. And of course, the company is hard to beat!

Since this is my final night in Vancouver, and chances are I won’t be back for a few months, I break my rule of not being in photographs and take one with Cathi and Bwain.

Bwain and I opt to walk back to the hotel. His ankle is nearly normal again and I have had entirely too much food for dinner. It’s a pleasant, cool stroll and Bwain and I have our final chat before I get packing for the trip home the next morning.

I find Dustin online and we chat for a little bit before he, too, wishes me bon voyage and I begin the arduous task of packing everything up. With a quiet prayer for good flying weather, I’m off to sleep. I’ll have to be up at 4:30am to check in at the airport in time.

So that’s it for Vancouver, until my next visit. I hope to find Cathi doing better, Bwain happily ensconced in his abode, and Dustin without that constant headache of his.

Thank you, the three of you, for a most enjoyable vacation. Babs is not going to wait another ten years to visit. Cydney and I will see you all in October.

One final post on Vancouver will be up soon. Now that the details are out of the way, I’ll want to jot down some impressions I have of the city. I would so love to live there eventually; like Inverness, Scotland, the place just opens up my soul.