Reflecting on My Trip to Idaho

At my sister's place.  Make yourself at home, Annie

Physically, I was done Johnson by the time the Certain Airlines supervisor gave me a boarding pass.  I needed a wheelchair to get to the gate.  I was afraid to ask him for a wheelchair, pushing my luck about getting Annie on the plane, but I knew I couldn't get there on my own at that point, specially with the long security line, and only a half hour before the flight.  I don't look disabled when just standing there, or for the first few steps, (sometimes it's obvious right away) so while waiting for him to help me after he helped paying passengers, I looked "normal".  I didn't have a problem with waiting - I know paying passengers come first.  I assumed he knew all along that I was non-rev, but when he saw on the computer that I was non-rev, he ordered me to step back so he could help the paying passengers.  I stood down and shut-upped.  (I swear and promise, Jeremy!)

What he didn't see was me getting my luggage from home to the ticket/check-in desk.  I was hunched over, limping and dragging my right foot.  After reaching the airport, I took it slowly, taking an hour to get the the check-in/ticket desk.  By the time he saw me, I was somewhat rested.  I had given myself 4 hours before the flight.  On the second day, I was able to WALK myself to the gate, slowly but surely, because I may have cognitive problems... but I'm not stupid.  I know I cannot hurry.  Jeremy finally understands that I can't make connections if they're too close together time-wise, and he lists me accordingly.  It's a good thing I love airports.  One the second day, I left home a full 6 hours before my flight, and it takes an hour to catch the bus to the train, and the train to the airport.  That meant 5 hours from check in to flight.  I was fine with that, cause I could do it.  And I was afraid of being harrassed all over again. 

I hate to write about the symptoms I get and the trouble I have doing things, such as traveling, because I don't want anyone worrying.  I choose to make the effort to continue having a life.  I LOVE the fact that I can help by house-sitting, because it's something I can actually do.  It's a way of helping those who have helped me so much.  It's way important to me to be able to help back, because I get so much help.  I write about the bad things that happen - it's just that - shit happens. 

I worry that by writing this, my house-sitting friend will be afraid to ask me to house-sit again, knowing how much it affects me MS-wise.  But when it comes to MS, I promised that I would be honest. 

Before my trip, my mom asked me why I put myself thru it - getting to a baby shower on Saturday, house-sitting that Saturday and Sunday, staying with sister (which can be risky temper-wise for both of us) for the next 5 days before it was time for the other house-sitting "job" for another 6 days.  I told her I didn't know.  Because of the shower, definitely.  And that I didn't know all three things would be so close together.  And that Jeremy had gotten me a direct flight, which would help.  And I can add to that by saying planes and trains are the only time I feel pain-free. 

Actually, it's 4 things so close together, because after the 6 days of house-sitting, I come home for two days, and then take a train to Salinas, California, for the parole hearing of the man who murdered my brother. 

No stress there.  Just say'in. 

It's just kinda unfortunate that all these things happened so close together.  But then again... I would not want to travel back and forth in between everything. 

Can you tell that I'm hoping Certain Airlines Googles itself, and finds my blog? (I guess that's not gonna happen, after speaking to my son)(But he's right).

I will admit that after the parole hearing, I will not travel again until I get the wheelchair... 

My god that was hard to type. 

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