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The one I never actually announced I was going on? My cruise was outstanding, barring a one-night test of how good a sailor I am (very, was the answer.) I went wine tasting in Santa Barbara (link is to the only winery whose name I remember which also happened to be the first we visited DON'T JUDGE ME,) visited a wild animal sanctuary in San Diego, saw the Queen Mary in Long Beach and got a hot stone massage instead of going ashore in Ensenada, Mexico.
My parents' cruise, on the other hand, sucked mightily. That first excursion to the four wineries, only one of which I remember clearly enough to get a name? Santa Barbara is a tender port for Princess, which for the uninitiated means you have to take a boat into port from the ship. Mom slipped and fell on the tender gangway, but gamely rode the tender into port before discovering she for serious and for real couldn't put weight on the same hip she damaged years ago in a wreck when at age 60, she was deemed too young for a hip replacement and pinned back together willy-nilly.
Long story short, we know as of this morning that the fall fractured the hip, which was not visible in the X-ray taken by the ship's doctor, and moving between the bed and bathroom on board completed the journey to fully broken hip. On the ship, still thinking it was a deep soft tissue injury, Mom spent most of the time in bed with mostly Frank and occasionally me waiting on her hand and foot.
The biggest favor her doctor could do himself is to tell her she's still too young at 74 for a hip replacement after the ordeal they put her through in the hospital this morning, best summed up by my mother snapping "don't you people talk to each other??" At least they warned me before my eye surgery that everyone would be asking me the same questions to avoid errors.
Why did I have fun on my cruise while my parents were experiencing the tortures of the nautically damned? Because they threatened to throw me overboard if someone didn't have fun, and they could both teach stubborn to a mule.
My parents' cruise, on the other hand, sucked mightily. That first excursion to the four wineries, only one of which I remember clearly enough to get a name? Santa Barbara is a tender port for Princess, which for the uninitiated means you have to take a boat into port from the ship. Mom slipped and fell on the tender gangway, but gamely rode the tender into port before discovering she for serious and for real couldn't put weight on the same hip she damaged years ago in a wreck when at age 60, she was deemed too young for a hip replacement and pinned back together willy-nilly.
Long story short, we know as of this morning that the fall fractured the hip, which was not visible in the X-ray taken by the ship's doctor, and moving between the bed and bathroom on board completed the journey to fully broken hip. On the ship, still thinking it was a deep soft tissue injury, Mom spent most of the time in bed with mostly Frank and occasionally me waiting on her hand and foot.
The biggest favor her doctor could do himself is to tell her she's still too young at 74 for a hip replacement after the ordeal they put her through in the hospital this morning, best summed up by my mother snapping "don't you people talk to each other??" At least they warned me before my eye surgery that everyone would be asking me the same questions to avoid errors.
Why did I have fun on my cruise while my parents were experiencing the tortures of the nautically damned? Because they threatened to throw me overboard if someone didn't have fun, and they could both teach stubborn to a mule.
