No Longer Who I Used To Be

I work full time. My office is in New York and I live in Ohio, so I telecommute. It works for me, because most days I get the kids off to school head to my basement and do my thing for 8 hours. I'm able to do my nebs at my desk in front of my computer. It's really the ideal situation for me right now.

However, I manage/consult with 22 Chapters of my organization...18 in the US and 4 in Canada. That means I must travel. A few years ago I was traveling A LOT. I was reaping the frequent flyer rewards...being upgraded to first class from time to time...getting to pre-board and walk on the "blue carpet" that is reserved for "elite" members only. At the security checkpoint I knew just how far I had to strip down, what had to go in a zip lock bag and how to smile just right at the TSA agent to avoid a pat down. I used to zip through the airport in my suit and heels, checking my Blackberry, walking with purpose...because I had places to get to and people to see. I'd catch my flight, get to my destination, catch a cab and meet with colleagues for many more hours. I'd then meet up with any friends I have in that town/state/province, head back to my hotel late in the evening, get a HORRIBLE nights sleep in a bed that is not my own, then get up and do it all over again the next day. I'd fly home, being sure to buy some little trinket for each of my kids from a random airport gift shop. This always helped with my own guilt for leaving them for a few days. Then I would get up the next day and work a full day...never missing a beat.

I'm pretty certain those days are now over...

I set out for my first trip in many months last week with letters from my hospital explaining my medical devices and wearing sensible shoes. I knew before even leaving for this trip that the heels were going to be a no-go. I got through security with no problems and my flights to Oklahoma City were fine. All was on time and smooth. Besides the fact that my lungs felt like they were shriveling like raisins while on the planes, all was great. I was thinking...this isn't going to be hard after all.

I got a good nights sleep with a little help from my friend, Ambien. My work day went well. I even got to meet with a fellow CFer, Darby, that evening. We compared coping mechanism and micro organisms, listened to the music of a fellow CFer who lost his battle and laughed a bunch...all while abiding by the three foot rule. Good Times!

I had another OK night of assisted sleep, woke bright and early (4am) and made it to the airport by 5am for my flight. We all boarded the plane and pushed off from the gate. All was right with the world. It was going to be another smooth day of travel. NOT! It turns out Houston was not allowing planes in due to fog. Back to the gate we went to wait for our clearance. I bought one of those gynormous bags of trail mix and read for a good while, until it was time to board once again. Three hours later...off we went.

We arrive in Houston and have to exit the plane outside. It's 175 degrees outside, and being a born and raised Ohioan, I'm draped head to toe in North Face gear. I start to sweat. My skin starts to burn from the salt being left behind. I rub my eye and now I'm done for...salt in the eye is the worst!

I get into the airport and find a screen to get information about my next flight. Turns out it takes off in 15 minutes. I spot a cart with one of those holier than thou drivers who gets to decide who gets a prized seat on the vehicle. I contemplate asking...maybe even begging...for a ride. I even thought about pulling out the CF card for this one. Then I decided it wasn't worth the questions or the ridicule. I think I would have cried at that moment if the driver had said, "But you don't look sick".

So I run, only to find out after a few minutes of running that this is going to be a marathon. This is where I thank the Lord that I decided to wear sensible shoes. After more than a mile of running with 2 bags wearing some of the most insulated clothing there is, I finally make it to my gate a few minutes too late. I rebook on to the next flight to Cleveland and set out to find something other than the sunflower seeds and raisins that I have been munching on all morning. This, of course, means more walking...more lugging of bags...more sweating... The people...there were just so many of them. A lot of them were twice my age! They were all wearing their suits, checking their Blackberry's and walking with purpose. I was just sitting there...defeated...coming to terms with the fact that I was no longer part of that club. My body has been beaten up by this damn disease.

I finally drag myself to my new gate and board my new plane. When I got to my seat I pretended to struggle with getting my bag in the overhead bin, until a kind business man lifted it for me. When I was a "real" traveling business woman, I would have NEVER let anyone help me with my bag. That would have been a sign of weakness. This time I just didn't care.

I make my way to my window seat and put my headphones on to attempt to avoid any and all interaction with other human beings. The guy next to me doesn't get the hint. He bumps my arm and signals for me to remove my headphones. I humor him, only to hear him tell me how very glad he is that he's sitting next to me on this flight. He continues to tell me how his last flight was hell, because he was sitting next to a guy with the most disgusting cough. He was certain that the guy had Tuberculosis. It took every ounce of restraint I had to not tell him to F$#& Off. I should have told him that I have something similar to TB...I should have coughed on him. Instead, I just put on my headphones and pretended he didn't exist.

I got home in one piece. Even though every muscle, bone and join ached. I also brought a nice little sinus infection home with me. While I used this opportunity to bitch about how crappy business travel can sometimes be, I am happy to still feel well enough to work. I have just come the the realization that I am no spring chicken anymore, especially in CF years!