The Accidental Overdose

"I can't do it, I need to sit" my sister whines as we are climbing up the acropolis in Greece. She's been complaining for the last hour about how hot Athens is, how heavy her legs are, and how she can't walk anymore. It is ridiculously hot and the acropolis is a bit steep in spots but her complaining is excessive. "I can't see! It's all blurry."

Really? She can't see now.

We stop and take a fifth break. I give my mom an annoyed look as a group of people in their late 70s walk by us, climbing higher up the acropolis.

Upset, Nicole continues, "Do you think the heat is doing something to my eyes? My mouth is sooooooo dry. I think something is really wrong."

"It's just the heat, Nicole. If this group of elderly people can make it up this hill, I think you got this."

Maybe the traveling is getting to her. We've been at it a few weeks - Germany, Austria, Slovakia, Hungary, and the Czech Republic - they were all in our rearview mirror. It could also explain why Nicole's complaining is getting on my nerves. Good lord, I mean, we are all hot!

"I just need a break."

Ten minutes later, we resumed our climb. Okay, so walking around the Parthenon in the direct sun is pretty hot. I'm getting a bit of a headache myself, but that could also be from the complaining.

Later in the day, somewhere between Syntagma and Monastiraki, my sister is brought nearly to tears when she loses her flip flop to the melting asphalt. Cotton-mouthed, she whined, "I'm done! It's so hot that the road ate my shoe....and I think I'm going blind! Seriously, I can't see clearly."

I feel bad for her. Even if it does seem a little overly dramatic, clearly she is really struggling.

Trying to be helpful I tell my distraught, heat-exhausted, sister that we can stop at the next café to get something to drink. A little food and a lot of water should revive the energy that the sun zapped from her.

We sit down and Nicole puts her head on the table. I look at my mother. She's making a suspicious face that I write off as her general anxiousness. She pulls out a paper from her money pouch and starts reading it. I reassure my sister that she will feel better after lunch. Unfortunately, we no longer have a room where she can relax. We are leaving tonight on an overnight boat to Crete. I can tell Nicole is worried that she's not going to make it.

Without warning, my mother abruptly slams down the pamphlet she was reading. She looks horror-stricken. Almost violently, she reaches over to my sister, snatching a patch off from behind her ear.

"Oh god!" my mom yells and looks at me in fear. "I've been giving her a new motion sickness patch every day for the last three days. It's supposed to be ONE new patch every THREE DAYS! Is she dying?"

Nicole acknowledges the question with a slight, barely audible whimper. I grab the pamphlet and scan it quickly. "Signs of overdose - muscle fatigue, dry mouth, blindness...great mom."

I look at Nicole, "Sorry, it looks like lunch might not help after all!"

EPILOGUE:

Nicole survived - but sadly, this was just the first in a Series of Unfortunate Events that day.