After I was saved from Friday’s wrong train calamity by two of my favorite Starcom alums, I was able to settle into what turned out to be a lovely and restful weekend with my parents.
Then I had one day at home before I had to fly to Detroit for a business meeting.
I swung by NW (not) on the way to O’Hare to have my labs pulled. My liver enzymes have dramatically improved: one went from 781 to 152; the other is now in normal range. So those pump steroids must be working!
Which is good, because although I’m navigating life a little bit better with them, for a while it seemed like I could get max of 4 hours of sleep a time; not ideal when you’ve got a corporate dinner and a day of meetings to follow.
“Don’t worry,” says my friend and coworker Kim. “I’ll sit next to you and pinch you if you fall asleep.”
“I’m not worried about falling asleep - I need you to pinch me if I try to talk!”
Because I’m finding one of steroid’s many exciting side effects seems to be impulse control. If you’ve gotten a text from me in the past few days, chances are good you have visual proof:
I have an idea!!!
I need to tell you all about it!!!
MAYBE IN ALL CAPS!!!
Alcohol holds no candle to steroids as a social lubricant - because this is a pretty good indication of how I am in real life, too. I met a lot of new people this week - and chances are good they now know more about me than they want to. (Sorry, new friends!)
Later, at the Detroit airport, my flight, the last one out, is cancelled due to weather. I manage to rebook it to ensure I can make an important client meeting; but it my haze of overtired, I suddenly see a seat open on the 7 am, and I grab it - not one second before realizing that it’s a flight leaving FRIDAY, not today.
“FUCK FUCK FUCK” I try to cancel it while the processing spins and think I catch it; but I am wrong. Ten minutes later, Kim and I are working two phones to try to restore my original flight while buying Detroit t-shirts. My status wins me nothing with AA, and global travel has to buy me a new ticket on United that leaves the following evening.
It’s not all bad: we relax and catch up over dinner at the attached Westin before heading to our rooms. I manage to get most of a night’s sleep in spite of one hour spent awake at 3 am. Dinner is so good I repeat it for a room service lunch wedged into a very productive day working from my hotel room. I wrap things up and head back to the terminal just in time for my flight to be delayed - and then delayed again - due to staffing shortages at ORD.
Sigh.
I’ve got an iced latte and a whole row of seats to myself. I take advantage of my lack of impulse control and book a facial this weekend, along with lunch with a friend and former colleague / collaborator.
With the 4 year anniversary of my diagnosis approaching in a little more than a month, I had an idea in the wake of my train disaster save - and I think it might be a good one. Stay tuned, because I’ve got a feeling I may need your help. I may be delayed, but I’m feeling excited, and I can’t wait for what comes next! ✨❤️✨