Chemotherapy in Chaos: When Our Quiet Airbnb Became a Construction Zone
When we booked this Airbnb in Gujan-Mestras, we thought it would be the perfect
peaceful escape for Jon’s chemotherapy treatment. The wrap-around porch, the established forests, and the quiet neighborhood seemed ideal. But the day of Jon’s first chemotherapy session, that quiet was shattered by the sound of chainsaws.
Next door, massive oak trees, five to six stories tall with trunks 2-3 feet wide, were being cut down. Their root balls, as wide as 10 feet in diameter, were ripped from the ground by backhoes. The noise was deafening and the ground shook. We had to leave Frankie inside while we went to the hospital for Jon's treatment. I am sure she remained on edge all day. By the time we returned from Jon’s chemotherapy in the evening, the workers were gone. We hoped that might be the end of it, but early the next morning, the chaos resumed.
The sound of the chainsaws and heavy machinery felt relentless, adding stress to what was already an incredibly difficult time for us. I decided to contact the owner of the Airbnb, just to let him know what was happening. He felt awful and immediately asked how Jon was doing. As we spoke, he mentioned that his wife had recently gone through similar treatment and was now in remission. I could sense his genuine empathy for the situation.
The owner generously offered to allow us to break the lease contract and refund the remainder of our unused lease if the noise became unbearable long-term. His kindness reflected an understanding of how crucial it was for us to have a peaceful environment during this challenging time. However, the thought of packing up our entire life while Jon navigated the effects of chemotherapy felt daunting. We decided to hold off on any major decisions for a week or so to see if the situation improved before making a move.
Thankfully, the weekend was quiet, which was to be expected because French construction workers do not often work on weekends. We held our breath as Monday rolled around, but to our relief, it remained calm. Tuesday and Wednesday were the same—no chainsaws, no dump trucks, no backhoes. The quiet we had hoped for when we first arrived had finally returned, but we know the construction could resume at any time and we're continuing to cross our fingers.
For now, we’re in a state of limbo, waiting to see what the next few days will bring. If the noise starts up again, we might face the difficult decision of finding a new place to stay for the next three months. The thought of packing up our life again while Jon is trying to recover feels overwhelming, but we know we need to prioritize his comfort and peace during this time. So, for now, we’re savoring each quiet day as it comes, spending our afternoons in front of the fireplace. The warmth and flickering flames create a calming atmosphere, with the delightful scent wafting through the house adding to our sense of coziness. Through the windows, we can still see the untouched forest on the opposite side of the house, a comforting reminder of the serenity we seek.
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