Travelling towards the Grand Canyon, tonsilitis in tow, I may well be the first person heading in that direction that was not the slightest bit interested in seeing what is often heralded as the greatest natural wonder on earth. My priorities were pain relief first, then, if there was time, 17 million year old stream and rock garden.
“Tonsilitis? Shit brother i’m sorry for you. That sucks” Mex replied when I advised him about my condition and subsequent desire to get an expensive medical professional to have a look at it. He wasn’t wrong. “There’s a clinic at Grand Canyon if you think you can hold out that long?” Inside a part of me was screaming a resolute ‘NO!‘, but it would have been a bit selfish to disrupt the itinerary that the other 12 had shelled out for and so I agreed and made a mental note to try not to use my throat muscles for the rest of the day.
At a routine Wal-Mart stop I attempted to eat an ice cream. Anything that wasn’t below 0°C or contained edges was a certain no go. Unfortunately even Ben and Jerries’ finest was rejected by my oesophagus and so I had to settle for just enjoying the taste of it instead. I was getting pretty hungry what with the last real meal being at least 20 hours previously. Watching the group return with shopping bags full of food for the evening’s meal was something of a low point for me.
Part of the journey to the Grand Canyon took us along historic Route 66 which used to be a major road connecting Chicago to LA. Since the birth of highways and freeways (aka motorways) however it’s now mainly used by people seeking an interesting road trip across the States.
As a result of it’s demise, many of the towns along Route 66 died a death as well. There are however a couple that have survived into the 21st century on the tourist dollar alone. One of which, Seligman, Arizona, we stopped off at to have a quick look round.
Seligman is a strange and eerie place. Almost every establishment along the ghost town street was a quirky Route 66 gift shop selling a bizarre array of tat to do with all things Americana. Inside, 50s rock ‘n roll songs played away on the jukebox as we walked the aisles wondering who buys half this stuff.
These vintage shops, the vintage owners manning them and the vintage Cadillacs parked up for photos along the street did make it all seem like you were stepping into a time warp. At the end of the street was the ‘Snow Cap’ where you could pick up a shake or sundae for the road. I boldly attempted a chocolate and malt shake and made a pretty good attempt at drinking it over the next hour or so but in the end had to admit defeat to the bacterial infection that was in residence.
We arrived at Grand Canyon National Park at about 5ish and the wait to hopefully get something to numb the pain was almost over. Whilst everyone else took a trip to the Canyon rim to watch the sunset and take photos I instead sat around in the clinic waiting room fiddling with a rubick’s cube that i’d bought for occasions such as these.
On entering the clinic I was all set with my travel insurance documents in hand hoping it would be a simple thing to organise. Although after working for an insurance company (big shout out to TWG, Motor Admin, Scott etc) I wasn’t holding out that much hope. Unfortunately it was worse than anticipated.
“We don’t deal with foreign insurance companies. You’ll have to pay now and claim it back later.” The lady at the counter said in a monotone voice. Well that’s just wonderful. I thought smiling back at her. I was given a lengthy couple of forms to fill in about previous medical history and what I thought was wrong with me and sat back down waiting for my name to be called.
When it eventually was called I was askedto take a seat in one of the medical rooms and a cheerful bloke with a stethoscope around his neck entered giving me a cheerful “Hi how’s it going?”
‘Oh just fine thanks. Had the option of going to watch the sun set over the Grand Canyon but heard it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be, whereas this clinic is mentioned in all the guidebooks.’ Is what I wanted to say, but instead I winced in pain at having to speak and mumbled something about my throat hurting. Unfortunately my ability to talk properly had vanished during the day and so whenever someone asked me something I took a few seconds to overcome the barbed wire in the throat feeling and come out with my reply in a sort of Dr Strangelove fashion.
The cheerful guy had a read through the papers I filled out and asked me exactly the same questions that i’d previously answered.
“Oh ok then, I think i’ve got a good idea of what’s going on. You sit tight and the doctor will be with you shortly.” He got up with his cheerful demeanour and both of them left the room.
Doctor? Who were you then? What was the point in you? I got the impression that his point may well have been to exist as something extra to put on my medical bill. The intervening moments between him and the actual doctor seemed to take a lifetime and the pain had reached a peak. Each swallow or neck movement resulting in someone aggressively shoving thistles and stinging nettles down my gullet. I had never felt worse.
Minutes pass and then in walks Dr Doroz with a choir of angels and a golden halo around her head. Dr Doroz asks me to take a seat on the bed,checks my vitals, has a peek at my throat and informs me that I do indeed have tonsilitis. She gives me codeine for the pain and a prescription for antibiotics. No alcohol for the next 10 days, by which time i’ll be in Mexico. Terrific.
After Dr Doroz and her choir of angels disappeared I head back over to ‘Monotone’ at the counter.
“The bill comes to $200 for the consultation, $10 for the codeine and $4 for the antibiotics to make a total of $214 for today sir. Please also note that the pharmacy is now closed so you’ll have to come back here tomorrow for the antibiotics.” $214?! What a hilarious joke. 23 years of my life i’ve spent in the UK… Why tonsilitis during the 2 months where i happen to be in a country where I have to pay for something that I think should be a basic human right. Hooray for the NHS. I obviously paid up, winced as the first codeine went down the hatch and waited for my lift back to the camp.
It gets pretty cold at night around Grand Canyon. -10°C anyone? There is however, something incredibly comforting about sitting round a camp fire with a bunch of others, when all around you the ground is freezing. The codeine managed to take away the wasp nest in the throat feeling although the rest of the pain stayed put. The cooking group had made burritos for dinner and I put a small amount on my plate hoping that i’d be able to man up and eat. I managed a mouthful or two before the tonsilitis decided enough was enough for the evening.
I sat there by the fire, unable to eat, unable to drink anything, let alone alcohol, and unable to talk. Desperately I wanted to do all three. Mex introduced the rest of the group to smores, which looked to me like the tastiest little creations imaginable. Get two crackers and some plain chocolate, toast a marshmallow and, when it’s ready, put it in between the crackers and chocolate (which subsequently melts). That dear friends, is a smore. Whether or not it is as tasty as it sounds I cannot say on account of being on the tonsilitis diet, but i’m betting that they most certainly are. I’m currently planning a little camping trip for my return to the FOD and smores will definitely be on the menu.
Finally after 2 nights of next to no sleep I got a few hours in at Grand Canyon. The codeine making me fall back into slumber pretty quickly after each painful awakening. Tomorrow I would start the antibiotics and hopefully begin my recovery. Maybe i’d go see the actual Grand Canyon as well, who knows?
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