When I first thought of keeping a log for this trip, the title that came to mind was “Traveling with a Broken Neck.” Not broken as in fractured. Broken in the way a toaster I broken. It just doesn’t work.

         It is often hard to think of anything but my neck. It is omnipresent, this broken thing. It impacts every moment except those when I am sitting in a comfy chair or lying down. The comfy chair thing is no longer a joke. Walking, I am either staring at the ground or in pain. Standing, it takes all I can do to hold my head up. In conversations with people, I try desperately to maintain eye contact. I want to signal that I am giving them my full attention, because I am. That message just doesn’t get to my neck. Inevitably I need to break the connection as my head, against all my will, collapses into my chest.

         The new brace I got several weeks ago can be an enormous help, but even that cannot make my head truly straight. After a while, my chin gets sore. Walking, I still cannot truly see ahead of me, just a bit further ahead on the sidewalk.

         How could this thing NOT impact this trip. It is one of the reasons we chose the fjords trip. I knew my neck could not sustain a trip to a beautiful European city: Barcelona, Madrid, Rome, Venice, even my beloved Paris. Those places require too much walking. What good is Paris if only becomes a study of the sidewalks of Paris (the literal sidewalks)? But however bad my neck was, I knew I could still at least see the fjords from the ship.

         We added Belfast to the trip to see our dear friends Alison and Maurice. Three years ago we shared a remarkable journey with them across the Atlantic on the Queen Mary 2. Two years ago, we visited them on holiday in Donegal and their home in Belfast. Last summer, they visited us in New York. We have become so close, that more than a year apart felt like too much. I know they see ME, not just my neck. And I don’t care anyway because I just want to spend time with them so much. I know they will be accommodating to my limitations, though I will try desperately not to hold them back from things the others would like to do.

         Still, I was truly looking forward to this trip. I love the Queen Mary and looked forward to wonderful meals, relaxing in the lounges, reading, being with Santo away from it all. I was excited to see the fjords and the small towns in Norway we would visit. I’ve even been learning some Norwegian in preparation. “God dag! Jeg heter Debra. Mannen min heter Santo.” And of course, our visit with Alison and Maurice was sure to be filled with laughter, good conversation, shared meals, beautiful sights, and all the joys of friendship.

         “Travelling with a Broken Neck” was my way of laughing at myself and my poor-me-ism (see above). It actually felt like a kind of defiance: I would not let this thing get the best of me. It was a way for me to have some control, to laugh at it before it sneered at me.

But then a close friend texted me her good wishes for our trip and described it as “Fjords and Friends.” That was it. She had captured precisely what this trip is about. So much better at capturing my true feelings about this trip: the wonderful things that lie ahead. The people, the places, new friends, God’s wonders, and time to just be, as ourselves and with each other.  So, yes, I am a bit worried about my neck, but mostly I am filled with gratitude!