Worst. Honeymoon. Ever.

TLDR at the end cause this is a whopper.

We had the dream trip planned: 14 days in Munich, Germany, Paris, and London. Over Christmas and New Year's. Every hotel selected with precision. Days planned out perfectly. Awesome flights booked. Excursions planned.

AND THEN.

I was admitted to the hospital 7 days before we left. Kidney stones. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu….

Stone did not pass before we left. Ever taken an 8 hour flight and had to pee THE ENTIRE TIME? Oh, did I mention our seats got switched so we were the two middle seats in the center row of four? Thank the Lord he was nice enough to switch so we could have the aisle seats, but still – every 10 minutes like clockwork I got up so I could pee and/or puke from the level of pain. People were STARING. The poor flight attendants had no clue how to help but were so sweet.

But WHATEVER! We were in an incredible city! Checked in to our hotel on Dec. 23rd, dropped off our luggage, and went exploring through Munich! It's pouring down rain but again – once in a lifetime trip! Whatever!

AND THEN.

About 3 hours into exploring, I notice my right leg is sore. Weird because I'd been working out in advance of the honeymoon, prepping for all the walking. Ignored it.

An hour later, I'm shaking from the cold and moving my leg is starting to be seriously painful. Physically the act of moving my leg in front of my body to take a step is starting to be impossible. We make our way back to the hotel and my husband has to miss the thing he was most excited for, the Krampus run. I feel horrible that I'm the reason he had to miss it.

We get back and rest it. We ice it. I try to get up, and I'm met with absolutely crippling pain. Remember the kidney stones? That made me have to pee CONSTANTLY? Well add that to not being able to WALK and you are met with my new husband gallantly carrying me over the threshold of the bathroom every. Ten. Minutes.

Ugh.

Okay, no biggie. Some rest and some sleep will fix everything and we can go exploring on Christmas Eve!

I wake up completely and entirely unable to move my right leg. I watch the first two seasons of Suits. My husband attempts to communicate (without a phone because he's a stubborn asshole but I love him for it) to try to get me crutches. He mimes American crutches (which rest in the armpit). They bring him deodorant. He tries again – bingo. He comes home with the best Tiny Tim-esque crutches he can find, complete with SHINY RED REFLECTORS. Dinner is a ham and cheese sandwich with a champagne pairing from the hotel restaurant. Best ham and cheese sandwich I've ever had.

This continues through Christmas Day, and into the 26th, when we're set to take the train to Nuremberg for the second leg of our trip.

By this point, I was steadily on 800mg of Ibuprofen every 6 hours like CLOCKWORK.

We are only 1/4 of the way through our trip. I ADORED the train ride to Nuremberg.

Nuremberg goes well for the most part! We mentioned our misfortune to a cab driver. She takes us on a free tour of the entire city. She drives on pedestrian only paths. Her name is Nancy. I adore Nancy. We call Nancy anytime we need to go anywhere for the rest of our time in the city.

We go to the airport for our flight to London. It starts snowing which was absolutely beautiful to see! I was so happy…. but then it was snowing so hard that the plane couldn't pull all the way up to the gate. As I was in a wheelchair (hooray) I had to be LOADED ONTO A BUS THAT THEN RAISED UP TO THE BACK DOOR so the guy helping me could knock on the back door of the plane and wheel me on. We then had to be re-searched at the door (in the blowing wind and snow) before being wheeled on.

Our flights were timed such that we got to London Heathrow right around lunch time. I kind of had to go to the bathroom and was pretty hungry but they put me on this tram that been transferred me to customs. Right out of customs I'm in a wheelchair and this wonderful woman's pushing me around, but I really have to go to the bathroom…. And I'm STARVING… and my poor husband is carrying our four plus bags. But whatever! We'll take care of it all when we get to the hotel.

FUN STORY: Heathrow is like FOURTY MINUTES FROM LONDON. Which when you're starving and also have to pee like a damn racehorse, is not the greatest situation 😂

Until Heathrow, we had really fantastic private transfers to and from our hotels. Great, responsible drivers. This one… The guy was blaring music, slamming on his breaks and lurching when he hit the gas. My stomach is CHURNING. We have to stop so I can puke.

FINALLY at the hotel, and we check in, and get to our room, and it is a damn CLOSET. I could hardly move anywhere in the room. My wonderful husband carries me to the bed. I'm okay, but I don't feel great after the flight. A good night's sleep will be perfect.

WE WAKE UP TO THE LOUDEST DAMN BELLS IN THE WORLD. Apparently, our room was directly next to a church belltower. It rang every. Five. Minutes. DEAR LORD.

Whatever. I go back to sleep. And wake up with the worst sore throat in the world. The hotel is amazing and allows us to borrow a wheelchair to explore.

We go out and explore despite not feeling well, but there's one problem – wheelchair + cobblestones = BAD DECISION. SO BAD. I was laughing so hard but holy shit my hip hurt so badly I was almost in tears. My husband is beside himself with laughter. We go back to the hotel to relax. Starting to feel worse, so my husband goes to a pharmacy and describes my symptoms. They send me to a doctor and the results are (drumroll) BRONCHITIS.

I sleep for two. Whole. Days. (I think we had good food in there?)

The next night is New Year's Eve! I have this absolutely incredible night planned where we go to the OXO hotel for a five course dinner with unlimited wine and cocktails (if you are in London for New years Eve, GO DO THIS. IT IS WORTH EVERY CENT.)

Determined to make the best of this trip, we get all dolled up to go! We take the underground to what we THINK is the right stop… It's not. and we can't get back on the train since it's going under Blackfriars bridge and the fireworks were starting in the next two hours.

We walk around (I am in a legit GOWN with 4" heels and crutches) trying to find taxi. We walk TWO BLOCKS trying to find a taxi. NO TAXIS.

We are physically blocked in but we can SEE THE TOWER. WE CAN SEE IT. I end up crying and begging 4 different officers to allow us across the bridge. British people apparently don't do well with emotions and they were very sweet to let us across (I have to say, it was pretty cool being the only two people on a ridiculously famous bridge).

We get there and have an incredible night, and the next day is wonderful as well. We fly home exhausted but still (mostly) glad we went.

MORAL OF THE STORY: for the love of god, BUY TRIP INSURANCE. AND DRINK WATER.

Tl;Dr – had a kidney stone when I went on the honeymoon, got another one while I was there, pulled a muscle and was unable to walk for most of the trip, then got bronchitis.

Oh and – we're going to London in 2020 if it's the last damn thing we do.