April trip to California – the flight out

At the beginning of April I flew to California to go to John’s retirement party, visit Laura, and visit my good friend, Tracey. (Yes, he’s retiring and starting a new job in Tucson.) You may be wondering why John’s retirement party was in California. Hasn’t he been commuting back and forth between Tucson and Albuquerque for the last 2 1/2 years? What’s this about California?

So actually…although the main branch of John’s previous company was located in Albuquerque, John worked for a team located at a smaller branch of the company on the far eastern edge of the San Francisco Bay Area in California. So could we have moved to California instead of Tucson? Oh, absolutely. If we wanted to deal with the traffic and several thousand dollars per month more in housing costs, we could absolutely have been living on the eastern edge of the Bay Area.

Alternatively, John could have been commuting from Tucson to California instead of to Albuquerque. There’s a non-stop flight from Tucson to San Francisco twice per day. But we didn’t have a house there. It’s quite possible that the cost of renting an airbnb in California plus plane tickets would not exceed the cost of maintaining a house in Albuquerque and driving out there regularly. But John was more comfortable driving to Albuquerque and staying at our house there, rather than flying to California and staying at an airbnb. But it’s all a moot issue now because John has a new job in Tucson, which he starts next week. And we are selling our house in Albuquerque. No more interstate commutes for John! Yay!

So back to my story – at the beginning of April, I flew to California. I was very nervous about the flight because I didn’t know how I’d do. I haven’t flown anywhere since February of 2020 when we flew to Boston for my cancer surgery. I’ve never enjoyed flying and then chemotherapy in summer of 2020 changed my personality. I became much more timid and I get overwhelmed more easily. I lost my moxie! And I’m only slowly regaining it. How would it feel to fly again?

I’ve tried the most common anti-anxiety meds and they make me depressed. Not helpful! So, after an unfortunately bad encounter with office staff during my third attempt at finding a primary care doctor in Tucson, (which is a whole other story I’m not going to go into, but it was awful), on Emily’s recommendation I tried a “direct pay” nurse practitioner. Direct pay means she doesn’t take insurance. It cuts out the middle man and all the paperwork rigamarole and gives her more time with her patients. She can make a decent living without rushing patients through, dozens a day. And she’s super easy to reach by phone, text or email. She even makes house calls!

You may be saying, wait, no insurance? Isn’t that expensive? And the answer is no, not really, not for a nurse practitioner. What’s expensive is my cancer care. Surgeries and scans and specialists – all that needs to be covered by insurance or we’d quickly be bankrupt. But a simple visit with a nurse and some routine bloodwork – no, not expensive. Anyway, my new private nurse spent lots of time with me, and carefully listened to my history and came up with an anti-anxiety med that actually works for me! The internet says it works best if taken daily, but she told me I could just take it as needed. Wow, it’s amazing.

So here’s what happened on my trip out to California – I got everything arranged, overpacked my bags, reserved an Uber ride to the airport, printed my tickets and got everything all organized just so – because I was nervous! And then I encountered one glitch after another. My Uber reservation didn’t work (software glitch) so I had to call an Uber on the spot, meanwhile my app was giving me error messages that were undecipherable. I have two phones and several google profiles, so somewhere in all that the wires were getting crossed. I was trying to summon an Uber with both phones – please, I just need a ride to the airport! Quit throwing me error codes! Finally I got an Uber to come. Whew. On my way.

At the airport I checked my bag and found my gate and…uh-oh. More problems. The flight to Phoenix was delayed and I wouldn’t make my connecting flight to San Jose. It was evening, so people were saying there weren’t any more options out of Phoenix that night. Normally I’d be panicking at this point, but the meds gave me a sort of “let’s just see how this plays out” attitude. I calmly got in the ridiculously long line, way towards the back, and eventually arrived at the desk with the frantic agents trying to reroute passengers.

Initially the agent suggested some horrible flight out of Phoenix going into Seattle, which wouldn’t even leave until late the following evening. I could practically drive to California by then. I realized that since I clearly wasn’t getting out of Phoenix that night, I was better off staying the night in my own home in Tucson and flying out of Tucson the next morning. But I had checked my bag! My bag was going to Phoenix without me.

I asked her to pull my bag. She didn’t understand and kept frantically offering ridiculous options to random Bay Area airports out of Phoenix through out-of-the-way hubs like Dallas, arriving the following night or even the day after that! And she was getting upset when I wasn’t accepting any of them. I was trying to explain that I wasn’t going to Phoenix after all, please try to get my bag back and I’ll worry about trying to change my flights later. Just get me my bag back please! I couldn’t get my bag back until she canceled my flight and she was reluctant to cancel my flight without an alternative. I reassured her that I would sort it out later. She finally canceled my flight and put in the order to pull my bag. I headed downstairs to see if we had managed to get my bag pulled before it was loaded on the plane to Phoenix.

It was evening by then, and eerily empty at ticketing and baggage claim. By that time I had John on the phone for moral support and was simultaneously texting Laura about her availability to get me from San Francisco the next day instead of San Jose that night. The only reason I hadn’t booked the non-stop San Francisco flight to start with is because San Jose is easier for Laura.

I was the only one down in baggage claim and the attendants spotted me immediately. Is this your bag? Did you ask for your bag to be pulled? Yes! My oversized, overpacked bag, crammed with stuff for Laura that she probably didn’t actually want, and overflowing with junk for my trip that I probably didn’t actually need, yes, that’s my bag! Thanks!!!

Then I went to the equally deserted ticketing counter, marveling that I was the only one there except two ticket agents to help me. Pandemonium upstairs at the gate, but no lines and no waiting downstairs in ticketing. Laura gave me thumbs up for the morning option, and I asked to book the non-stop to SFO the next morning. The first agent didn’t think she could make that change because it’s a different airline, but I remembered that some of the ridiculous options being offered to me at the gate upstairs were also on different airlines. So I persisted, calmly, patiently and sure enough, and I had my new ticket for the next morning.

Normally I would be completely stressed about the idea of a really early morning flight, but I was hey, cool, non-stop to SFO, that works. Then I had to hire another Uber to get back home (that one cost twice as much as the way out). The whole thing was a nuisance, but wow, I love my anti-anxiety med. I’d take it every day but who knows what side effects would start building up, and I don’t want it to slowly stop working. I’m going to save it for special occasions!

The next morning my 5:00 AM Uber ride was already there and waiting when I looked out the window at 4:50. Excellent. I popped another anti-anxiety pill and enjoyed a smooth flight to SFO. And that early in the morning on a Saturday, Laura and I had no issues with traffic on the way to her house.

Here she is showing off her backyard kale crop: