I got on an airplane today and was surprised by the feelings that happened. Before today, the last time that I got on an airplane was the day after I was diagnosed. I actually started this blog on a Jetblue flight late at night on February 6 as I flew home from DC (I wrote the day 1 and day 2 posts at the same time). As nuts as this may sound, I was borderline nervous to go home that day. I knew that going home meant talking to Mike about my diagnosis in person, and I knew that going home meant that reality as I knew it would change. Going home, meant that I had to face the music and face my fears. I thought that I was out of tears, but I was wrong because they flowed the moment that I saw Mike that night. We talked for a long time that night, but I don't remember a word that either of us said. I also remember sitting on the floor of Henry's room for a long time that night.
It was clear that Mike had been waiting up for me, and it was clear that he was just as upset as me. We hugged for a long time, I cried for a long time, and we both vowed that we'd do whatever it took for me to get better. That was my stance on day 1, and it has not changed in the past 261 days.
As I move further from treatment, there are going to be experiences that trigger tough emotions related to my diagnosis. I can generally anticipate when they will arrive, but sometimes they hit at strange times. I was not expecting the simple act of getting onto an airplane to make me feel somewhat emotional, but it did. I am grateful that I am well enough to travel.
Being on an airplane today was the start of getting back to a more normal work schedule and to getting back to living even more than we have been. I hesitate to put this out on the internet (our house is being monitored multiple times per day though), but Mike and Henry were on the airplane with me today! We are all going to spend the night with a family member in Malibu tonight then Mike and Henry are going to stay there for a few more days while I am downtown for work. A change of pace and scenery will be really nice for us all, and I hope that we all return refreshed and ready to tackle even more living.
I am not ashamed to admit that I pulled the cancer card on the second leg of our flight today. I rarely pull it but had really good reason to do so today. As we were waiting in line to board or second flight, I saw a mother mopping up her 3(ish)-year old with baby wipes. The child looked so pitiful, and I heard the mother say "please tell me if you need to throw up again." I felt horrible for the mother, but I did not want to sit near the two of them. We got on the plane before them, and you'll never guess who sat in the seats directly behind ours.
I snagged a flight attendant, told her that I recently finished cancer treatment and need to try to avoid germs as much as possible. My immune system seems to be doing well as evidenced by not getting a full blown cold when Henry recently came home with a little cough, but I am not taking any chances. The flight attendant held a row in the back for us while we scooped up our stuff and moved. I am pretty physically sturdy despite all that my poor body has been through, but I am not taking any chances, especially with a stomach virus.
We had smooth travels and are safe and sound in Malibu. We've already dipped our toes into the Pacific. I'll post some pictures when I have a better cellular connection.
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