Cry Me a River

It's hard to feel sorry for us. Our backs don't hurt, our heads don't throb, our bones don't creek and our hands don't ache. Our hearts are beating, our lungs are breathing, our feet take us where we want to go. We don't even feel sorry for each other very often. Until this week.

Few places in America are more majestic than the Colorado mountains in the summertime. Verdant slopes and valleys dotted with wildflowers and topped by snow-capped peaks are enough to take your breath away. We honeymooned in Colorado, we've vacationed in Colorado and even looked at colleges for Nicholas in Colorado. We've endured our share of summer storms, rain on our honeymoon, and then with the kids, a thunderstorm so sudden and so strong the Vail gondala shut down and we were bussed down the mountain.

But this time the weather was fall like and beautiful...the kind of mountain days that take your breath away.

Literally take your breath away.

Meandering around the top of Vail Mountain at 10,000 feet elevation proved to be too much for Jeff who was already sleep deprived due to his decreased oxygen level.  He checked into the ER with high altittude pulmonary edema and extreme shortness of breath. Didn't much like being flat on his back for the day, and then released with oxygen for the duration of the trip.

My "sorry state" wasn't as dramatic but wow did I feel sorry for myself.  One minute, I was cutting up what I thought were sweet peppers from my garden. Then next, my eyes were burning from the touch.  The burn on my hands got increasingly worst until bedtime, when I tossed and turned and couldn't fall asleep. Ice, running water and lemon juice brought temporary relief.

I searched the internet for solutions.

The most common suggestion was wear rubber gloves while handling peppers. Too late.

One site suggested a vodka bath. I poured a cheap bottle reserved for vodka sauce into the sink and doused my hands in the soothing liquid. Ahh relief...if only for a few minutes. Desperate as the clock ticked toward early morning, I scanned the internet for another solution.

There is was.

Bleach. Caution - use as a last resort to kill the capsaicin chemical in the peppers.  Yes, bleach did take away the burn from my hands. I just wonder about the stomachs of those who ate the fajitas.

We both survived our bouts of anguish, ironically caused by beautiful and natural things. Nature's way of telling us to better care for ourselves - and be more compassionate towards another's ailments and afflictions.