The pleasure starts weeks before.

Patients understand we need time off to recharge. They settle down nicely so we don’t worry. This week one of my patients overdosed. Another didn’t sleep for eight days, became psychotic and required admission. A third broke out in a scary allergic rash to topiramate.

Being in private practice in the boonies, we’re on call 24/7/365. There is no one to cover us. You might ask: Is it a vacation if we’re carrying pagers? Well…. We’ve vacated the office, haven’t we? That’ll have to do. Besides, what would I do with myself off the leash? Relax?

A private practice is a small business. We’re the owners. If we don’t work, we don’t earn. I don’t know about you, but if we’re not earning, we’re spending. A financial double hit. I feel sorry for people who get paid vacations. Where’s the challenge?

Did I mention we’re taking an actual trip?! For two weeks? Having nothing to do with extended family? Just Hubby, Son and me. Leaving on a jet plane next week for London and Edinburgh.

Which means…. More work! Arrangements must be made. At home: Poodle-Oodle needs to be boarded, plants watered, mail stopped, etc., etc. At the office: payroll checks need to be signed, letters written, disability forms filled out, blah blah. The trip: travel and hotel reservations need to be made, the net trawled for deals and cool things to do, weather researched, necessary items bought, shoes broken in.

And of course, there’s the packing. One suitcase each. Plus one carry-on. What’s the maximum number of books I can bring? That depends on how much other stuff I can live without. How does a minimalist answer the question What if? (Would a minimalist even ask the question?) It’s all so exciting!

Just thinking about flying over a couple thousand miles of water in a tin box, my heart threatens to beat its way out of my rib cage. Imagining we’ll get lost in London, fogged from jet lag, shakes the old coconut to the cracking point. My soul fills with gratitude. All these pleasures, and we haven’t even left yet!

I’ll try not to forget as we stroll through the British Museum ogling the treasure stolen by the Empire in its hay day. Eat great Indian take-out. Enjoy afternoon tea. People watch. Train via Hogwarts Express an hour and a half west to Bath for an all day tour of ancient stone circles Stonehenge and Averbury, lunching in a historic Cotswold village. Sky north to Edinburgh for a week during Festival. Book fair. Fringe Fest. Jazz Fest.

Rest? I’ll rest when I get back. Speaking of which, I sleep very lightly, Hubby snores and Son talks in his sleep. I’m a neat-nik; Hubby and Son are slobs. I like it quiet; they watch TV and listen to the radio incessantly. Two weeks won’t be enough.

Meanwhile, each day we’re away, the work will pile up. Upon return, there it’ll be: a lovely mountain to scale. Faster than you can say “re-entry syndrome,” my refreshed and invigorated state will vanish— Poof! into deepest antiquity. Can’t wait!

No man needs a vacation so much as the person who has just had one. ~Elbert Hubbard

PHOTO CREDIT: vodkamax