(Im)possible Dream

This afternoon just after lunch B and I called his cousin, Wayne, in Australia. Wayne's the one who sent us our cheesy Austrailian souvenir package and we wanted to let him know we got it and thank him for sending it.

By the way, let me stop here for a moment and say that I don't quite understand a world where I can call Australia for less money per minute than I spend to call my MIL who lives so close to me I can actually see her apartment building from my balcony.

Anyway, my suspicions were correct. This package of goodies wasn't just to bring us cheer and give us a giggle but instead was a blatant bribe. Wayne and his wife, Robyn, were shopping, saw the souvenir shop and they got the idea that if they sent us an enticement - bait, if you will - then we'd come visit them.

They have no shame. Using a boxing kangaroo pen in an attempt to get us to board a plane and fly to the other end of the planet. No shame whatsoever.

I have to say though, it worked. Sort of, anyway. The desire to go to Australia is there. B went there with his parents in 1989 for nearly three months and they loved it. Had the time of their lives. They still talk about visiting Australia. The package of souvenirs only served to remind them of how much they loved Australia and to get them to retell their stories.

No, it's not lack of desire that keeps us from hopping on a plane. It's not even what to do with B once we're in Australia because they've done it before, I'd have way more help with B than is available to me now and these people don't give up. They believe nothing is impossible without trying first. No, what holds us back is the flight itself. Airplanes aren't especially accomodating to the handicapped and the more profound your injury is and the greater your physical limitations are, the more difficult it is. B doesn't take to flying very well - it's very hard on him physically. The last time he flew was in 1999 when we flew back from our visit to Mississippi and he ended up with a raging bladder infection from the catheter we used on him. He was horribly sick for weeks.

Still, the idea of going to Australia is something we have talked about ever since I moved here. Wayne, who honestly should be a motivational speaker, is convinced that what we need is just good planning. Other handicapped people travel - we just have to research how a person with the degree of disability B has can make this trip.

Can we do this? Can we really pull off getting B to Australia? Can we somehow work things out so that this trip doesn't kill him? It would be so worth it because I want to see Australia. I want to see all the things the cousins would show us. We'd be camping and sightseeing and shopping and touring and have every day filled with something to do. I could have a Foster's in a non touristy pub. I'd pick up saying "tea" instead of "supper". I'd get to find out how truly scary Vegemite tastes. I'd get to spend Christmas in capri pants and a cotton blouse, grilling in the back yard and watching the Christmas parade with its Santa in shorts. I'd get to groove with cool Australian people - the coolest being B's cousins who truly must be the friendliest people on earth.

So we'll look into it and see if we can make this dream a reality. Who knows? Maybe we'll be spending next Christmas in Adelaide. And if all fails maybe the package of German goodies I send will entice them to come visit us.