Worldcon: Other things, part two: the Alamo.

This is the post that I didn't feel like writing. Friday morning I woke up pretty disoriented – but once I got past that point and had some coffee I felt fine. Energized, even, and very pleased – I'd managed to get to various places in San Antonio AND I'd only gotten slightly woozy. Everyone said I looked great and much healthier than before which was so good to hear. I was better, really better.

And then I found out that the Alamo tour was about to take off. Finally seeing the Alamo had been one of my minor goals for the trip - I mean, it's San Antonio, so, Alamo - and it was a short tour and Carrie Vaughn kindly offered to push me. I had my Gatorade and an extra water bottle and I drank lots before the trip. My feet weren't swollen at all, and although I didn't check my blood pressure my pulse was a nice 90, so off we went.

It was a fairly slow tour – going to an old church first, and then around to give us an idea of the setup for the final battle. The guide (a Worldcon person) was the excellent sort of guide who put in all of the good little geeky details – battle descriptions, historical controversies, Star Trek connections, and so on. To be honest, he was a bit too good: I was so fascinated that I stopped noticing that the ground was starting to move. I went through my Gatorade and through my water bottle. The ground moved again. We were right in front of the Alamo. The ground started shifting. My heart started pounding.

And then the ground dipped hard to the left and I was clinging to my chair before I fell off the planet.

For those of you wondering why I use a wheelchair with armrests and pushbars, which makes it more difficult for me to access and push my wheels, this would be why. When I am incredibly sick – and this is the incredibly sick stage – I can't sit up or push the chair and I need assistance.

Which was a problem since the tour wasn't over.

I didn't want anyone to have to leave on my behalf. I stayed in the chair and tried to follow my physical therapist's breathing instructions. These are good instructions but it's kinda difficult when the world is tilting that badly. I asked Carrie to just push me towards some taxis. She insisted on pushing me back to the hotel.

I felt terrible and incredibly guilty – I was dragging her away from a tour she was enjoying just because I had misjudged how well I felt. I also felt too dizzy to argue. She brought me back to the hotel and I told her I would be fine. I wasn't. We'll skip over the next bits, except to say thanks to a Marriott hotel employee/EMT and someone wearing a Star Trek uniform who helped.

Two and a half hours later I figured I could sit up. Cautiously. I realized I needed some solid food, so crept towards the SFWA suite, where I had a sandwich. The planet started tilting again. I headed back to my room and then started having more problems.

....so that was fun. Eventually my blood pressure got back up a bit and I finally slept. By the evening I felt much better, and even managed to come out for things.

Nonetheless this meant that for the rest of the con I tried to take it very easy: long naps, lying down, feet up as much as possible. I think it mostly worked: I definitely had multiple periods of wooziness and my feet would not stop swelling up, and I had some major problems at the San Antonio airport, but I convinced Southwest to let me go home anyway, and I wasn't coughing that much (this was a plus for everyone).

Thanks again to everybody who helped.