Months and months ago, Matt and I decided that when chemo was over, we would get the hell out of town for a few days. Last Wednesday, we decided to implement the aforementioned plan. After throwing around some ideas, we decided that a beach resort with an excellent spa would be perfect. I could get massages, facials, and quality time doing nothing without overexerting myself. And Matt could enjoy the freezing cold Pacific ocean.

It didn't occur to either of us that planning a last second trip to a California beach resort in August would involve fully booked hotels. Our first choice, whatever it was, didn't have any rooms available. We were forced to make due with The Ritz-Carlton Laguna Niguel.

Thursday morning, I received a call from the event manager handling our wedding. Apparently I faxed a form to the wrong office. Silly me for using the fax number at the bottom of the form. Anyway, she asked me about my weekend plans, and I mentioned our trip south to Laguna Niguel.

A few hours later, we arrived to the sad news that our room wasn't ready. After a half hour of exploring the resort, we discovered that we had been magically upgraded to the club wing. And while the ridiculous smorgasbord, club-only concierge, and fully stocked bar are nice benefits, the nicest surprise was waiting for us in our room. We found an ice bucket chilling a bottle of rosé Moet Imperial champagne, sprinkled with rose petals, and a lovely note from our event manager. Now that's the perfect way to start a relaxing, celebratory weekend. Except I still can't drink!

I was not missing this opportunity, especially considering our event manager had even remembered that I preferred rosés! I deemed this to be an emergency worthy of calling Dr. Oncologist. And after explaining the dire situation to her, she determined that it would be best for all involved if I had just one glass.

With the help of a wet suit, I actually went in the ocean. But my legs were still too weak to deal with the strong riptides, so I was more than happy to sit under an umbrella and read. Or sit by the pool and read. Or spend quality time in the spa.

Friday morning I woke up early for a 90 minute massage, which did wonders for achy legs. While the effects started fading the next day, it was wonderful to walk around like a normal person for a full afternoon.

Saturday morning I went back to the spa, this time for a hydration facial. Before applying a myriad of creams, the aesthetician attacked my face, along with my easily accessed scalp, with what was essentially a giant electric toothbrush. In her words, my "dead skin just sloughed off" from my scalp. I'll assume this was a good thing as the skin covering my entire head looked much better when she was done. Another successful trip to the spa!

By the time we left on Sunday, both of us were a lot more relaxed, and, in my case, physically better. Now if only the stupid nausea would go away, everything would be perfect.