What the hell was I thinking!?!
Obviously, I wasn't.
One would assume that, given the realities of a slowly-but-surely deteriorating hip and related messed-up knee, not to mention the taxation imposed on those self-same joints by two glorious weeks of scaling hillsides and sand dunes, climbing in and out of tomb shafts and corridors, and trekking for kilometers across the desert, I would have given more consideration to the wisdom of reserving a room on the top floor of a country hotel. It didn't even occur to me to check if there was a lift or elevator.
To my defense, the reservations were made over three months ago. I had no idea.
I guess I was lured by the romance of the roof top terrace, the views across the Nile to the great temples and beyond.
When we got here ten days ago, I thought "Wow, that' going to be interesting!" We'd just have to take it slow, and by the end of our stay here we'd be stronger and have glutei maximi made of steel! Yeah, right.
Now that both Denny and I have been sick and weakened by this debilitating infection, climbing up or down has been a sometimes near-insurmountable challenge.
I must admit that I have skipped a meal or two these last few days, just because trying to muster the strength to face the dreaded stairway was not going to happen.
SIXTY-SEVEN STEPS...
We pause and catch our breath at each of the six landings, looking forward to crash on the bed once we reach the bedroom.
But we are improving, no longer threatening to pass out before we reach the fourth floor.
Who knows, I may yet get those glutes of steel afterall.
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