What ended up happening is that A. got sicker and sicker until we had to take her to urgent care, where they discovered that her sodium was low, gave her a liter of IV fluids and some anti-nausea medication, and told us it was probably a virus. Then I got on a plane back to Gone West.
It's a longer story than that, of course. Our parents brought her to the airport early on Monday, where she had to be wheeled to the plane and the gate agent finally rebooked her flight when she realized that A. would be flying alone (rather than with the accompaniment of the airport staff who pushed her through security). Our mom and I brought her to the airport early on Tuesday, where she ended up laying on the ground next to a trash can while the desk agent changed her flight, and then when the airport staff wanted to call medics, we put her back in the car. And apparently our parents brought her to the airport again this morning, where she was still too weak sit up long enough to get on the plane.
It's scary that you can be a healthy adult one day and then five days later be so weak that you can't sit up in a wheelchair. It's given me a whole new perspective on ebola, and how losing fluids can end so badly so quickly.
Meanwhile, my cold got better until I stayed up for almost 24 hours between waking at 4:45 am Mitten time to drive A. to the airport, spending the day at urgent care, and flying to Gone West. Now it is dramatically worse, again, at least in the throat region (my throat is my weak spot) and I talk with a croak.
More tea, please.