Imagine that we know there is a threat to our health and security that will likely invade our shores at some point. Experts study it, the government runs scenarios and, as recently as last fall, identified how woefully unprepared we are for the invasion and what we must do to prepare. But the federal government does nothing.
In late fall, the administration fires the one person who is based in an area where the threat is likely to emerge to reduce the budget. Our ability to quickly identify an emerging threat is cut off. Nevertheless, our intelligence sources identify this threat and start briefing senior administration officials on it in January. They don't believe it's a real threat, dismiss the warnings, call it a hoax from the other party, and worry about what acting on the warnings will do to the economy and their re-election efforts. The President's chief of staff keeps pressing to take it seriously but the warnings fall on deaf ears and he is fired. It takes n intervention from a news personality to get the president's attention.
The president first says it's no real threat, then says we can stop it at the border, then says we have it contained, then says it will magically disappear. He signals no sense of urgency so the NSA, FBI and military do not see the need to mobilize a strong and coordinated response because there is no sense of urgency from the president. We don't need to implement effective surveillance to detect the threat.
The foreign army invades, largely undetected, and starts moving through Seattle. Warnings to act go unheeded. It spreads through New York, New Orleans and the Bay Area. Citizens begin dying rapidly. Our front line responders go in to fight the threat, but due to the president's dismissal and inaction, they don't have body armor. They're told to use cardboard and the limited supply of body armor will be available to states who haven't criticized the president. Front line responders die in the hundreds because we didn't prepare appropriately for a threat we knew for years might come, and a threat we knew WAS coming for months.
If this were a military battle, this country, especially the conservatives would be up in arms about our lack of preparation. We had rallies with thousands of people and shouts of "Lock her up" over one decision to deny a funding increase that led to the tragic deaths of 5 Americans. What will happen when hundreds of our front-line health care workers die due to similar inaction?
As the mother an advanced practitioner in New York City, the wife of a nurse who cares for patients with brain cancer, the sister, sister-in-law and aunt of many other health care practitioners, I FIND THIS TOTALLY UNACCEPTABLE!!! THIS is why I am so angry with the Trump Administration!
Friday, March 27, 2020
Thursday, April 25, 2019
I'm Riding Again
Riding in Pelotonia, Columbus' annual ride to raise money for cancer research at The James, has been a very tangible expression of my recovery. Every year since my stem cell transplant, I've raised at least $3,000 and ridden at least 100 miles (except for last year when I couldn't ride because of a broken arm.) This year, I was seriously contemplating not riding but participating as a "virtual rider"--raise some money, maybe volunteer during the weekend. And then, this picture showed up in my TimeHop.
It's the bulletin board in my room at The James showing the recovery of my blood counts following my stem cell transplant. It's another tangible, although esoteric, expression of my recovery. But the two numbers on that board most important for me at the time is my abdominal girth of 43" and my weight of 166 pounds. The abdominal swelling from my disease and transplant had incapacitated me. I could barely sit up and didn't walk more than a few steps for more than a week. That's why I had to go to rehab after my transplant just to be able to climb 6 stairs and walk 500 feet unassisted. It was a hard road back from that condition to being able to ride 180 miles 16 months later in my first Pelotonia ride.
As I pondered that photo and thought about the gift of my recover and how far I've come, I knew I had to ride again this year! There are still millions of cancer patients who don't have the gift of a cure or the durable, lasting remission that I've achieved.
Alan is now working in the Neuro-oncology clinic at The James. He regularly comes home with a story of a patient who was recently diagnosed and doesn't have any effective treatment options. And even most of the treatment options they have may only extend life several months, not years. And, there are so many cancer patients and types of cancer without effective treatment. Because cancer develops as part of a body's regeneration process gone haywire, even patients with the same "type" of cancer can face very different prognoses...and a hopeful prognosis at initial diagnosis can change to a grave one as the disease evolves and progresses.
So, I ride again this year to do my part to bring hope to those who are currently in treatment, those in remission and those yet to be diagnosed. I'll ride 135 miles on August 3 and 4. And I'm super-excited to spend every minute of it with my dear friend, Stacey Martinez, who carried me in her head every mile last year when she rode 180 miles for the first time. If I'd never gotten sick, I might never have met Stacey and she's one of the many blessings that have come from my illness.
Please, consider donation to my ride so you can join with me to bring hope to current and future cancer patients. The research funded through Pelotonia is having a global impact in the fight against cancer and every dollar donated to my ride goes directly to fund that research. Here's a link. Give early and give often!
http://pelotonia.org/kat4gators
As I pondered that photo and thought about the gift of my recover and how far I've come, I knew I had to ride again this year! There are still millions of cancer patients who don't have the gift of a cure or the durable, lasting remission that I've achieved.
Alan is now working in the Neuro-oncology clinic at The James. He regularly comes home with a story of a patient who was recently diagnosed and doesn't have any effective treatment options. And even most of the treatment options they have may only extend life several months, not years. And, there are so many cancer patients and types of cancer without effective treatment. Because cancer develops as part of a body's regeneration process gone haywire, even patients with the same "type" of cancer can face very different prognoses...and a hopeful prognosis at initial diagnosis can change to a grave one as the disease evolves and progresses.
So, I ride again this year to do my part to bring hope to those who are currently in treatment, those in remission and those yet to be diagnosed. I'll ride 135 miles on August 3 and 4. And I'm super-excited to spend every minute of it with my dear friend, Stacey Martinez, who carried me in her head every mile last year when she rode 180 miles for the first time. If I'd never gotten sick, I might never have met Stacey and she's one of the many blessings that have come from my illness.
Please, consider donation to my ride so you can join with me to bring hope to current and future cancer patients. The research funded through Pelotonia is having a global impact in the fight against cancer and every dollar donated to my ride goes directly to fund that research. Here's a link. Give early and give often!
http://pelotonia.org/kat4gators
Monday, March 18, 2019
Spring Transformation
My beloved yoga instructor, Sara Goff, has been talking about the transformation that comes about in spring. She's used some Thoreau quotes--“Though I do not believe that a plant will spring up where no seed has been, I have great faith in a seed. Convince me that you have a seed there, and I am prepared to expect wonders.” and “The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn.” She's challenged us to move away from the romanticism of spring and focus on the energy and hard work that goes into a seed transforming into a plant, a tree, food and a forest. She also asked us to "plant seeds of intention" during our practice.
All of this got me thinking about transformations. I've written about them previously here, The Boy or the Bunny and here Before and After. As I was pondering the thought of seeds of intention and the energy it takes to bring them to fruition, I also thought of the transformation through which they go. Sara said that a farmer doesn't plant corn and then stand over every seed saying "corn, corn, corn." But I had an image that a farmer plants a corn seed that looks like this corn seed.
And then a plant grows that looks like this. What sprouts from the seed and the fertile ground looks nothing like the "seed of intention" we planted. But if we let it go through its season, it will produce a thousand times the intention that we planted. But too often, we don't trust, we get fearful, it doesn't look anything like what we planted so we think we need to dig it up, to stop caring for it, to find another seed. NO! Often times, what sprouts from our intentions or prayers looks very different than what we thought we planted. The periods of most vigorous growth can look very different than the outcome we intended. Seriously, trust me on this one. But if we trust in our power, the goodness of the universe or God (or whatever your belief system is), what grows from that intention will be thousands of times greater than the small intention we planted.
That has been my path through my disease and recovery, my before and after. Plant your seed of intention, fertilize your soil, and trust in the transformation.
Monday, December 03, 2018
No Words
Those of you who know me, even casually, know that I'm rarely at a loss for words. But I've just completed an experience that words, even with my ability to distill and make analogies, cannot begin to describe. I've accomplished a few things in my life that I'm really proud of--helping to create a loving family, professional achievements, riding in Pelotonia, oh, and that beating a disease that kills 40% of people diagnosed with it within 6 months. But completing my 200-hour Yoga teacher training ranks near the top.
I went into the training with ZERO intention of teaching. This was about me, and getting better with my yoga practice. There were still physical dynamics within my body that I felt had not recovered from the de-conditioning that happened after my stem cell transplant. I thought that a strong, knowledgeable yoga practice would be another step in my physical recovery. And, if I learned it well enough to teach it, I'd certainly be able to practice it well.
So, on September 8, just 9 days after we moved to our new house ie not the best time from a practical perspective, I started a 200-hour yoga teacher training. The cover of the manual said, "Awaken Your Truth, Embody Your Light." I was hopeful it would help in my physical recovery but it gave me so much more. I've spent every Friday evening from 6:30-9 and every other Saturday and Sunday from 9-6:30 with a group of 8 women and 1 man. I knew the instructor and took the class because I loved her ability to combine feistiness and nurturing in an amazing yoga class.
But, I was worried about spending 180 hours over 3 months with 8 people that I'd never met. While many people think I'm a classic extrovert, I really value deep relationships based on authentic connection and don't really have a desire to spend time with people in the absence of that connection. I was cautiously optimistic that the spirit of my instructor, Sara Goff would attract people with whom I could connect.
As the title of this post indicates, I have no words to describe this amazing group of humans I had the privilege to learn with, practice with, discover with and grow with. We opened our hearts, minds and bodies to each other, sharing moments of humor and tears, intellectual growth and emotional growth. Sara took a random collection of seekers and turned us into a connected collective, a true tribe, with authentic intimacy and selfless love for one another.
Our last day was filled with hugs, laughter, tears, and, for me (and probably others), a strong feeling of gratitude. Not gratitude for becoming a teacher or improving my practice, but gratitude for the individual humans I had come to know and love, and the community we had created together, under Sara's wise and nurturing guidance.
As we shared our hearts with one another one last time at our graduation party, it seemed that everyone was looking for the path that would allow each to be their most true, authentic self, free from the standards and expectations imposed by others. Sara knew that the path she was on as a Yoga teacher, trainer and community creator was the one she was destined to be on. Other were at a bit of a crossroads, but taking steps toward what they felt was their path toward their truth, their light. THAT was the magic of the experience
While I entered the training with no intention to teach, I now feel I have been given a gift that I am obligated to share with others. So stay tuned...I'll be hosting some yoga classes to prepare riders for Pelotonia before cycling season and to help them recover from cycling during the season.
Today, as I drove to take a class from Sara because I needed to get one more experience with a portion of this community, the song "Wild Country" by Wake Owl came on my Spotify Discover Weekly playlist. It starts with the line, "What will become of the truth if we keep it in?" I really feel that my truth has been awakened and, in order to embody my light, I need to share it with others. Stay tuned.
Saturday, July 08, 2017
Why I Ride
Today, I went on a 108-mile ride from Columbus to Cincinnati with 11 other Pelotonia cyclists. It was my longest ride of the season and despite an inauspicious start--went down in a pile-up at mile 2 and hurt my hip, and the group had some trouble maintaining any pace the first 25 miles--it ended up being a great ride.
At mile 25, I was able to join up with a faster group. During the first 25 miles, we averaged about 12 mph. Over the last 85, we averaged 17 mph, including cranking it at about 20 mph from mile 104 to 108. It was a great group.
During the lunch stop at mile 66, I was feeling pretty rough--my hip hurt from the fall, my hamstrings were reminding me how much work they'd done and it felt like a red hot ice pick was jabbing me in my right trapezius. I was lying on the floor of the picnic pavilion where we'd stopped trying to not think about how much my body was hurting. While I was lying there, I was scrolling through Facebook and saw this post from my nephew's wife. My nephew, Seth, has been through a tough battle with cancer over the last 8 months--two surgeries, two rounds of really rough chemo, multiple hospital stays. It was tough to see such a young man, with two young children, go through such a hard battle. But Amanda's post says it all. THIS is why this group of people, and so many others, ride Pelotonia. To see someone diagnosed with cancer, and have an effective treatment available that allows them to return to a normal life. Every mile I put in, is in hopes that I can pay it forward for someone who is diagnosed after me. That they'll have the ability to return to a full life that they find enjoyable and meaningful. Like I did, like Seth did.
Please consider a gift to Pelotonia to help others who face a cancer diagnosis have hope of a full recovery. You can donate here pelotonia.org/kat4gators
At mile 25, I was able to join up with a faster group. During the first 25 miles, we averaged about 12 mph. Over the last 85, we averaged 17 mph, including cranking it at about 20 mph from mile 104 to 108. It was a great group. During the lunch stop at mile 66, I was feeling pretty rough--my hip hurt from the fall, my hamstrings were reminding me how much work they'd done and it felt like a red hot ice pick was jabbing me in my right trapezius. I was lying on the floor of the picnic pavilion where we'd stopped trying to not think about how much my body was hurting. While I was lying there, I was scrolling through Facebook and saw this post from my nephew's wife. My nephew, Seth, has been through a tough battle with cancer over the last 8 months--two surgeries, two rounds of really rough chemo, multiple hospital stays. It was tough to see such a young man, with two young children, go through such a hard battle. But Amanda's post says it all. THIS is why this group of people, and so many others, ride Pelotonia. To see someone diagnosed with cancer, and have an effective treatment available that allows them to return to a normal life. Every mile I put in, is in hopes that I can pay it forward for someone who is diagnosed after me. That they'll have the ability to return to a full life that they find enjoyable and meaningful. Like I did, like Seth did.
Please consider a gift to Pelotonia to help others who face a cancer diagnosis have hope of a full recovery. You can donate here pelotonia.org/kat4gators
Sunday, January 01, 2017
Raising my Ebenezer
Those who've read my blog for a while know that I listen to a lot of music...different artists, genres, periods. And while I love some hard hitting indie rock (looking at you Frank Turner, current fave), classic Christian hymns are go-to music for peace and comfort. I wrote about it here (the morning after I was diagnosed), here when I booked my appointment at Mayo Clinic, and here when I reflected on my time in the hospital.
As I recovered and left the vestiges of illness behind, I thought more and more about ways to remind myself of God's goodness to me through this time. One of the reasons I think and write about my illness is so that I can bask in the blessing that is my recovery.
In one of my favorite hymns "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing", my favorite line is "Here I raise my ebenezer, here by thy great help I've come." An ebenezer is a stone monument meant to signify great help from God. It's taken from 1 Samuel 7 when the Israelites defeated the Philistines. In the hymn, that line about raising an ebenezer is about acknowledging God's blessings.
In my usual rebellious manner, I've added a new twist to the "ebenezer" concept. The monuments I've created to remind me, and others, of God's goodness and to celebrate my recovery are...tattoos. After getting such a great report from Dr. Efebera last month (normal, stable FLCs; totally normal organ and blood biomarkers; move to 6 month follow-up) and feeling like my physical fitness was returning to my pre-illness level, I knew I wanted to get a tattoo to commemorate this..and remind me to share my story with others to bring hope and encouragement. I knew exactly what I wanted to get....
After stem cell transplants, you don't know if it was successful until 100 days after the transplant. That's when the tests are done to determine if that hell I went through actually accomplished anything. As you can imagine, it was a pretty stressful time for me. One day during this time when I was descending into an abyss of worry, I was standing at my front window. I saw a goldfinch in the bushes. I love birds of all types, especially goldfinches, and enjoyed watching the little guy flit around. At one point, he stopped and turned his head. It seemed like he knew I was watching him and I was sure he would fly away. Instead, he flew over to the window where I was standing, landed on the frame and stood there staring at me for about a minute. It was so cool and such a wonderful little blessing to break my worry.
Later, I found out that in Renaissance times, the goldfinch symbolized a return of health or a rising from the sick bed. How cool is that?
Last week while I was in Jacksonville spending Christmas at Amy and Sean's, I got a goldfinch tattoo on my inner bicep from James Cumberland at Sunday Tattoo. Sean said he does great bird tattoos and he did not disappoint. Not only did he come in on his day off to fit me in, he was a nice guy and did great work. I originally wanted to get it on my forearm so it would be more visible and allow me to share it's significance ie "raise my ebenezer." I consulted about this with two women in my field who are about my age, much more successful than me and share my rebellious spirt. They both said I should go for it since it's such a great story and, as one of them said, it's not like I have to prove myself professionally. But my daughter Amy and one of her friends ganged up on me and strongly suggested I put it in a location that was more "hideable" in a business setting. It's on my inner bicep.
Here are two pictures taken exactly three years apart. The one on the left was taken January 1, 2014 is when I decided I was strong enough to really start working out again. I'd been working out some but I wanted to take a picture of where I was when I moved from recovering from my illness and treatment to restoring my physical fitness. The one on the right was from this morning, showing my restoration and my "ebenezers". (I'll share the story about the wave tattoo another time.)
And here's a close-up of the goldfinch.
Now, whenever I raise my right arm--to work out, high five, clap at a concert, give a hug, anything--I'll be "raising my ebenezer" and remembering God's blessings.
As I recovered and left the vestiges of illness behind, I thought more and more about ways to remind myself of God's goodness to me through this time. One of the reasons I think and write about my illness is so that I can bask in the blessing that is my recovery.
In one of my favorite hymns "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing", my favorite line is "Here I raise my ebenezer, here by thy great help I've come." An ebenezer is a stone monument meant to signify great help from God. It's taken from 1 Samuel 7 when the Israelites defeated the Philistines. In the hymn, that line about raising an ebenezer is about acknowledging God's blessings.
In my usual rebellious manner, I've added a new twist to the "ebenezer" concept. The monuments I've created to remind me, and others, of God's goodness and to celebrate my recovery are...tattoos. After getting such a great report from Dr. Efebera last month (normal, stable FLCs; totally normal organ and blood biomarkers; move to 6 month follow-up) and feeling like my physical fitness was returning to my pre-illness level, I knew I wanted to get a tattoo to commemorate this..and remind me to share my story with others to bring hope and encouragement. I knew exactly what I wanted to get....
After stem cell transplants, you don't know if it was successful until 100 days after the transplant. That's when the tests are done to determine if that hell I went through actually accomplished anything. As you can imagine, it was a pretty stressful time for me. One day during this time when I was descending into an abyss of worry, I was standing at my front window. I saw a goldfinch in the bushes. I love birds of all types, especially goldfinches, and enjoyed watching the little guy flit around. At one point, he stopped and turned his head. It seemed like he knew I was watching him and I was sure he would fly away. Instead, he flew over to the window where I was standing, landed on the frame and stood there staring at me for about a minute. It was so cool and such a wonderful little blessing to break my worry.
Later, I found out that in Renaissance times, the goldfinch symbolized a return of health or a rising from the sick bed. How cool is that?
Last week while I was in Jacksonville spending Christmas at Amy and Sean's, I got a goldfinch tattoo on my inner bicep from James Cumberland at Sunday Tattoo. Sean said he does great bird tattoos and he did not disappoint. Not only did he come in on his day off to fit me in, he was a nice guy and did great work. I originally wanted to get it on my forearm so it would be more visible and allow me to share it's significance ie "raise my ebenezer." I consulted about this with two women in my field who are about my age, much more successful than me and share my rebellious spirt. They both said I should go for it since it's such a great story and, as one of them said, it's not like I have to prove myself professionally. But my daughter Amy and one of her friends ganged up on me and strongly suggested I put it in a location that was more "hideable" in a business setting. It's on my inner bicep.
Here are two pictures taken exactly three years apart. The one on the left was taken January 1, 2014 is when I decided I was strong enough to really start working out again. I'd been working out some but I wanted to take a picture of where I was when I moved from recovering from my illness and treatment to restoring my physical fitness. The one on the right was from this morning, showing my restoration and my "ebenezers". (I'll share the story about the wave tattoo another time.) And here's a close-up of the goldfinch.
Saturday, October 01, 2016
Adventures in Work Travel
As many of you know, I left my job with Nationwide Insurance in June after 10 years with the company. I took a role as a Business Consultant with Teradata, a company I've worked closely with for the last 16 years. The new role requires that I travel a few days per week for a few weeks each month to meet with clients. While I know it will probably wear on me after a while, it's been pretty good so far.
This week was my worst week of travel yet, but I still really love my job. I spent Monday through Thursday working with colleagues in San Francisco planning out the products and solutions that I will be presenting to clients. I've known one person on the team for more than 10 years and really enjoyed getting to know the others, having lots of fun and designing a kick ass product. A group of us went to the San Francisco Giants baseball game on Tuesday night and I got to meet one of my Amyloidosis little sisters who was also at the game. On Wednesday, we worked until 7:30 and then went to a funky little restaurant in Chinatown with my colleague from the UK. I also found out I'll be going from Dublin, Ohio to Dublin, Ireland for a week in January for our Global Sales Training.
The travel was pretty good going out. I flew from Columbus to Minneapolis and then on to San Francisco. I was a little late getting into Minneapolis but when I got to the gate for my flight, they were boarding so I didn't have to wait at all but there wasn't room for my carry on so I had to take it to the front of the plane. While I was at the front of the plane, the flight attendants were trying to convince a man to stay on the plane who had asked to get off because he was claustrophobic.
I had two colleagues on the flight and when we got to San Francisco, went together in a cab to our hotel. You couldn't have ordered up from a casting office a better representation of "grungy, stereotypical cab driver" than the one we had. He was obviously foreign, had crazy hair sticking up and smelled like he hadn't bathed in a month. My colleagues and I were giving each other sideways glances in the back seat. I handed out breath mints, my colleague distributed scented hand sanitizer...anything to cover the smell. I really thought I was going to be sick.
Thursday afternoon I flew from San Francisco to Minneapolis and then on to Philadelphia. I was representing Teradata at the Wharton Customer Analytics Initiative partner meeting. When we arrived to Philly, I was standing in the aisle of the plane waiting to exit and the man in the aisle seat next to me was sitting because there was no place for him to stand. The woman next to him (60ish year old and looking pretty anxious) was standing up in a hunched over way since she was by the window, said to him "Mister, you need to get up because I don't want to the the last person to get off the plane." He didn't say anything so I tried to defuse the situation and said, "Ma'am, he doesn't have any place to stand because I'm here. I promise I'll let him go in front of me." Then he added to her, "And I'll let you go in front of me." A few minutes later, the line still hadn't moved and she said, "If you don't stand up and I'm going to climb over you" which a) probably wouldn't have been successful and b) wouldn't have been pretty if she tried. I just said, "Ma'am, I promise you that you can go in front of me." Crazy lady!
I got to my hotel about midnight and had a few emails to answer before I went to bed. Thankfully, my meeting the next day didn't start until 9:30 so I got up at 7, got ready, did a little work and headed to the Wharton Customer Analytics Initiative partner meeting. I spent the day in a room with 20 people listening to professors from Penn and Wharton describing their work in analytics. As I left at 3, I was notified that my flight out of Philadelphia was delayed and I would probably miss my connection in Detroit. I decided to go to a cute cafe/wine bar and have some food and wine before I headed to the airport. Little did I know, this was going on in the atmosphere...
As I was heading to the airport, my colleague, Mary, who arranged for me to attend the meeting called to see how things went. I told her I had a great day but then told her about the travel challenges. She started searching for flights for me. About that time, I was notified that Delta had re-booked my on United to go through Dulles and get to Columbus about the same time as originally scheduled. When I tried to check in on my phone, the United website said one of my flights had been cancelled. I called our corporate travel partner and they said that the flights were still scheduled and I needed to go to the United counter. I was at the Delta counter so I went over to the United terminal, waited about 10 minutes (heard them tell a man there were no available flights until Sunday) and United told me that yes, my flight out of Philly was canceled. So, it was back to Delta to get back on my original flight to Detroit, knowing I could drive to Columbus if needed. I waited in line and on hold on the phone and got back on the flight to Detroit that was now arriving at 11.
I made it to Detroit, got to the car rental (after about 30 minutes) and headed out to Columbus. Alan had offered to come up and pick me up but he had already driven to Cincinnati to pick up Claire, had worked the night before and I didn't want him to have to spend 9 hours driving that day. So, I headed south to Columbus pretty tired from the week and with some rain ahead of me. I loaded up some podcasts and Alan said to call him if I felt sleepy.
About 1 am, I got a text from my colleague Mary asking if I was home yet. I told her I still had 1-1/2 hours of driving left. She asked if my husband had picked me up and I lied and said yes because there was no point in her worrying about me.
I got home about 2:45 and crawled in to bed. Alan got up in the morning and took the rental car back for me so I could sleep longer and relax. Even with all these "adventures", I still love my job. I got to work with some wicked smart and hilarious colleagues doing great work and then talk shop with some of the most prestigious business professors in the world. I'm working with some great clients and account teams that challenge me in a really productive way.
So, I'm back at it next week meeting with a large US insurer in Boston on Tuesday and with the account team for a large CPG company in Cincinnati on Wednesday. I'll try to enjoy Boston Monday night and have dinner with Claire on Tuesday and Wednesday before coming home Wednesday night.
Yes, it's busy, yes it's a lot of travel and yes, it can be a hassle sometimes, but I'm always thankful I have the health and stamina to do it. A bad day traveling beats a good day in the hospital These adventures are what remission is all about.
This week was my worst week of travel yet, but I still really love my job. I spent Monday through Thursday working with colleagues in San Francisco planning out the products and solutions that I will be presenting to clients. I've known one person on the team for more than 10 years and really enjoyed getting to know the others, having lots of fun and designing a kick ass product. A group of us went to the San Francisco Giants baseball game on Tuesday night and I got to meet one of my Amyloidosis little sisters who was also at the game. On Wednesday, we worked until 7:30 and then went to a funky little restaurant in Chinatown with my colleague from the UK. I also found out I'll be going from Dublin, Ohio to Dublin, Ireland for a week in January for our Global Sales Training.
The travel was pretty good going out. I flew from Columbus to Minneapolis and then on to San Francisco. I was a little late getting into Minneapolis but when I got to the gate for my flight, they were boarding so I didn't have to wait at all but there wasn't room for my carry on so I had to take it to the front of the plane. While I was at the front of the plane, the flight attendants were trying to convince a man to stay on the plane who had asked to get off because he was claustrophobic.
I had two colleagues on the flight and when we got to San Francisco, went together in a cab to our hotel. You couldn't have ordered up from a casting office a better representation of "grungy, stereotypical cab driver" than the one we had. He was obviously foreign, had crazy hair sticking up and smelled like he hadn't bathed in a month. My colleagues and I were giving each other sideways glances in the back seat. I handed out breath mints, my colleague distributed scented hand sanitizer...anything to cover the smell. I really thought I was going to be sick.
Thursday afternoon I flew from San Francisco to Minneapolis and then on to Philadelphia. I was representing Teradata at the Wharton Customer Analytics Initiative partner meeting. When we arrived to Philly, I was standing in the aisle of the plane waiting to exit and the man in the aisle seat next to me was sitting because there was no place for him to stand. The woman next to him (60ish year old and looking pretty anxious) was standing up in a hunched over way since she was by the window, said to him "Mister, you need to get up because I don't want to the the last person to get off the plane." He didn't say anything so I tried to defuse the situation and said, "Ma'am, he doesn't have any place to stand because I'm here. I promise I'll let him go in front of me." Then he added to her, "And I'll let you go in front of me." A few minutes later, the line still hadn't moved and she said, "If you don't stand up and I'm going to climb over you" which a) probably wouldn't have been successful and b) wouldn't have been pretty if she tried. I just said, "Ma'am, I promise you that you can go in front of me." Crazy lady!
I got to my hotel about midnight and had a few emails to answer before I went to bed. Thankfully, my meeting the next day didn't start until 9:30 so I got up at 7, got ready, did a little work and headed to the Wharton Customer Analytics Initiative partner meeting. I spent the day in a room with 20 people listening to professors from Penn and Wharton describing their work in analytics. As I left at 3, I was notified that my flight out of Philadelphia was delayed and I would probably miss my connection in Detroit. I decided to go to a cute cafe/wine bar and have some food and wine before I headed to the airport. Little did I know, this was going on in the atmosphere...
As I was heading to the airport, my colleague, Mary, who arranged for me to attend the meeting called to see how things went. I told her I had a great day but then told her about the travel challenges. She started searching for flights for me. About that time, I was notified that Delta had re-booked my on United to go through Dulles and get to Columbus about the same time as originally scheduled. When I tried to check in on my phone, the United website said one of my flights had been cancelled. I called our corporate travel partner and they said that the flights were still scheduled and I needed to go to the United counter. I was at the Delta counter so I went over to the United terminal, waited about 10 minutes (heard them tell a man there were no available flights until Sunday) and United told me that yes, my flight out of Philly was canceled. So, it was back to Delta to get back on my original flight to Detroit, knowing I could drive to Columbus if needed. I waited in line and on hold on the phone and got back on the flight to Detroit that was now arriving at 11.
I made it to Detroit, got to the car rental (after about 30 minutes) and headed out to Columbus. Alan had offered to come up and pick me up but he had already driven to Cincinnati to pick up Claire, had worked the night before and I didn't want him to have to spend 9 hours driving that day. So, I headed south to Columbus pretty tired from the week and with some rain ahead of me. I loaded up some podcasts and Alan said to call him if I felt sleepy.
About 1 am, I got a text from my colleague Mary asking if I was home yet. I told her I still had 1-1/2 hours of driving left. She asked if my husband had picked me up and I lied and said yes because there was no point in her worrying about me.
I got home about 2:45 and crawled in to bed. Alan got up in the morning and took the rental car back for me so I could sleep longer and relax. Even with all these "adventures", I still love my job. I got to work with some wicked smart and hilarious colleagues doing great work and then talk shop with some of the most prestigious business professors in the world. I'm working with some great clients and account teams that challenge me in a really productive way.
So, I'm back at it next week meeting with a large US insurer in Boston on Tuesday and with the account team for a large CPG company in Cincinnati on Wednesday. I'll try to enjoy Boston Monday night and have dinner with Claire on Tuesday and Wednesday before coming home Wednesday night.
Yes, it's busy, yes it's a lot of travel and yes, it can be a hassle sometimes, but I'm always thankful I have the health and stamina to do it. A bad day traveling beats a good day in the hospital These adventures are what remission is all about.
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