Voyage Interrupted

Thursday, April 25th
Over The Pacific Ocean
Delta Flight 0522
Voyage of the Midday Moon
Day 20

We should still be aboard Koningsdam on our way to Victoria, but the Voyage of the Midday Moon has turned into the Voyage Interrupted.

Yes, you guessed it's that damn right knee again.  We were doing just fine.  Our aft corner Neptune Suite with the wrap-around balcony has been a joy, the crew a delight, as always.  The food has generally been disappointing, and Holland America's incessant nickel and diming has gotten old, but there have been highlights.  The fresh-squeezed orange juice in Club Orange, overseen by Cas with class, is the nectar of the Gods, as if squeezed directly from the face of the sun.  The Grand Dutch Café has the best frites on board, outstanding chocolate chip cookies, and refreshing cider on tap.  In fact, it was after one such trip to the Grand Dutch that the trouble started.

Tres has been zooming around the ship on his rented mobility scooter.   There has been a near miss or two.  The corridors on the residential decks are particularly narrow, and virtually impossible to pass when lined with housekeeping carts.  Backing out of elevators into lobbies crowded with the slow moving and infirm has been treacherous.  But, until this point, no disasters.  He looks like Linus at the piano, scrunched over the handlebars of a conveyance at least one size too small, with his knees splayed wide.  I am often behind him yelling, "Knees!!!"  You see where this is going, even if Tres did not.  Leaving the Grand Dutch, headed back toward the stern and the cabin, there is a change in the décor as the the blue-framed mirrors of the café turn into the stark white displays of the photo center.  He drifted too far to the right as another scooter passed going the other direction, and...WHACK...he nailed a protrusion dead on with his bad knee.

We thought he got away with it.  It didn't break the skin, no obvious damage to the hardware.  And then, a few days later, he woke up with a very red, very swollen, very angry knee.  Hoping it would get better, it got worse, the incision that had remained closed since the last surgery in July 2023, started to ooze.  The medical center onboard the ship took a blood sample and confirmed it was likely infected.  The ship was due in Honolulu the next morning.  Tres was transferred to the Kuakini Medical Center by ambulance.

Their examination also suggested infection.  After several hours, the ER doc, an affable if oafish Dan Aykroyd look-alike, decided to lance it.  Flanked by two residents and a nurse, with no preparation or protection, he pierced the boil, and a fountain of blood spewed forth for more than a minute, soaking the bed, and collecting in pools on the floor.  The residents backed out of the room looking green, while the nurse took out her phone to record the eruption.  When it finally stopped, Tres flexed, and it started all over again.  The doctor cultured it, which would eventually come back positive for strep, and the nurse finally got it cleaned up.  After consultations with several more doctors, and many more residents, they recommended surgery, and Tres was admitted to the hospital.  The orthopedic surgeons, Dr. King in Seattle and Dr. Lee in Hawaii, concurred that an I&D (irrigation and debridement) would be necessary.  I returned back to the ship, which was overnighting in Honolulu, but our cruise was over.

The next day, I got our things together and said our goodbyes on the ship, and then moved everything to a hotel in Honolulu, while Tres prepped for surgery.  The ship sailed on without us as scheduled at 5:00, and Tres was in surgery by 7:30, the 6th on his beleaguered right knee.

The surgery was successful, and the care at Kuakini has been excellent.  It is an anomaly as the only private hospital in the islands.  Still run by the Japanese, it was built for Japanese immigrants and integrated in the 1950s.  It is also a teaching hospital, and the home of the residency program for the University of Hawaii Medical School.  In spite of a frank warning from a nurse named Fred, we have no regrets.  Tres was discharged on Tuesday, and we have been staying in an accessible room at the Renaissance Hawaii Hotel & Spa.

We have excellent travel insurance, and Travel Guard has made all of the arrangements for our return home.  They booked us in first class on Delta, with lie-flat seats, and a medical escort to ensure safe travels.  Kevin is a retired critical care nurse who flies all over the world for SkyNurses providing medical care and concierge services to repatriate sick and injured travelers.  He has come directly from his last assignment in Gibraltar to help us get home.  He took a medical history and vital signs last night at the hotel, rewrapped Tres' bandages for the trip this morning, and has continued to manage logistics and make sure Tres is stable through the airport and onto the plane.  We are in the air, comfortable, and confident we can make it the rest of the way home, thanks to Kevin.

Well, it's not how we planned to end this trip, but it's all part of the adventure.  As it turns out, we will beat the ship home by more than a day.

Next up:  Recovery