It was 3/30/19, the first day of our journey to Israel and Jordan. Kristine and I boarded Lufthansa’s Airbus in L.A. at 430 pm, Pacific Daylight Time (PDT).
What is left of my mind had decided, since we would be spending two weeks touring, that, most conveniently, my pills would be packed in a multicolored series of plastic cylinders that screwed together. I had learned the exterior imprints on the three of my pills that were white and oval, so, they could be distinguished. That was particularly important when I spilled them all over the floor of the plane.
Age IS not just a number. It is the number of PILLS you take per day. As to this trip, the pills were taken in some remote places ONLY with bottled water.
I have also noticed hoping to travel to Europe, that, once you are over 75 the travel health insurers consider you semi-tombed. They lower their coverage limits so that any serious illness caught in Morocco will leave you penniless on their streets begging for a blood pressure pill. Only Rick’s Café would give you shelter and that would be only if you could sing, As Time Goes By.