Roman Holiday?

"My name is Gluteus Maximus Viscus Pancreas,  commander of the Armies of the Girth, General of the Renal Regions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Bagpuss Aurelius. Father to a diseased kidney, husband to a supportive partner. And I will have my transplant, in this life or the next.

So I orated last year, as my life continued on its Via Appia hindered by the senate of diabetes and renal failure. Every day was a battle against the goth hordes of sugar control and the vandals of kidney dialysis with its daily impact upon my vitae, especially when planning travel arrangements.

Last December (yes December is a Roman word), my familiae were planning the usual Saturnalian getaway, which the new Chritian sect is calling Christmas. They had made plans to rest at a villa by the coast, not unlike Pompeii or Herculaneum. the vacationem was to last 2 weeks, or septimanae.

Being somewhat limited, indeed as restricted as a slave, I was due to dialyse every three days, which meant travel to any distance was impossible, as practical as building a wall across the whole northernmost territory of Britannia!

So arrangements were made to dialyse on the morning of travel, Friday, and travel down via speedy chariot to the sea or maris. I would enjoy some quality tempus, soaking up the sun like a statue of Zeus, enjoying games

and feasting on traditional favourites like dormice, grapes, and olives.

After three nights with my family, I would then hasten back to the metropolis (yes I know thats Greek) in order to dialyse at the hospitium once more.

As onerous and exhausting as building the Circus Maximus! Quite an annis horribilis!

However this year is different. We had made arrangements to stay at another villa on the Insula Quid Livor (why hickey = Waiheke Island), which sits in the harbour overlooked by the great metropolis. It is an easy ferry ride into town, like crossing the Styx on board Charon's ferry. Of course I would have to pay the ferryman and would have my gold coins ready. I sometimes have more Sestertii than sense.

This could be repeated ad nauseam, for the three visits needed for dialysis. So thus prepared were we, ready to join the legions of holiday makers worshipping Bacchus, Pan and Dionysius, those gods of wine and merriment.


Meanwhile unbeknownst to us events were simmering beneath the surface which would erupt in the month of Julius...

Of course the transplant has changed everything, and like a former slave given his liberti, I am emancipated, set free from the previous daily chores of dialysis.

As I still attend the weekly renal forum once a week, it was anticipated that I would still need to use the ferry to cross over Neptune's domain and enter into the city. So when I was told by the nurses that I only had to take a blood test whilst on the island, I was as gleeful as the Emperor Nero fiddling amongst the flames of Rome.

So instead of having to undertake a long and arduous trek like Hannibal, I shall instead be reclining in my sun drenched villa, able to enjoy the rich mosaic of holiday experiences.
Dont ask me to concentrate on anything other than relaxation for I shall be quite Zeusless, but we shall see how things Pan out.

I shall instead concentrate on the first real holiday in what seems like a century, and help the ever continuing process towards complete recovery, one step at a time, for after all Rome wasn't built in a day.