Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Neutropenic

February 25- 27, 2014
Charly started running a fever late Sunday night (she was over the 101 mark).  She was pretty upset that she was about to get dragged into the ER with the fever.  When I called the oncologist on call, and based on Charlotte’s ANC numbers from 2 weeks before (1900), the doctor told me I could watch her and if her fever hit 102, to bring her in.  Charly hovered at 101.5 all night.  She woke the next morning and told me she was so happy she didn’t have to go to the ER the night before.

I called the clinic first thing in the morning, figuring they’d want to see her.  They told me to bring her in.  When her regular oncologist saw here, he was not too happy that I had been told that Charlotte could stay home.  I pretty much got the idea that somebody was going to be chewed out royally after he left the room.  They hooked Charly up to an IV and ran antibiotics.  This is the 4th time since she was diagnosed that we have had to do this, 3 of which were in the last couple months.  They took blood to check for infection, and a nasal swab to see if they could identify the virus. 

Every other time we have had to do this, we have been sent back home once they have finished the antibiotic IV.  Unfortunately, this time Charlotte’s ANC (Absolute Neutrophil Count) was 200.  Her ANC is how they measure her ability to fight off infection.  Anything below a 500, and they admit the child.  Dr. Barnett came into the room and said, “Well, I hope you brought your pajamas!”  I did not.  I figured we’d go home again, and decided NOT to bring our overnight bags.  We were warned to always bring an overnight bag when we bring her for a fever, but she’s never had to stay, so I totally forgot to bring them for the FIRST TIME EVER.  Apparently that’s another version of Murphy’s Law – go to the hospital unprepared to spend the night, and you will be spending the night.

We had to wait in the clinic room for 3 hours while they tried to get Charlotte a room in the Immuno-compromised unit.  Primary’s is undergoing major renovations, so our time in the clinic was accompanied by the sound of jack hammers from the floor below us.  Charlotte was miserable.  Uncomfortable chairs, coughing, fever, jackhammers, lunchtime and no food… 

Waiting for a room

When we finally got a hospital room, I called my mom and she came to stay with Charlotte while I ran home for our overnight bags and to get Naomi situated. 

Charly and I ate popcorn, watched Ponyo, and ordered room service.  It would have been the perfect night, except for she had to sleep with her port accessed.  She hates that.  Around midnight she suddenly called out, “MOM!” and I jerked out of sleep.  She had rolled over in her sleep and popped the IV out of her port.  There is a ¾” needle that accesses her port, directly in the center of her chest.  It pokes out about an inch from her chest, and being a fellow stomach sleeper, I can imagine how awful it is to try and sleep with that protruding from her chest.  She’s only had to do it a handful of times, but she HATES it.  She also has never accidently popped the port out.  

The nurse had to re-access her right away, since the port hadn’t been “locked” by heparin before it was de-accessed.  My nursing friends would know what that means, but basically it’s a chemical they put in before they de-access the port to prevent the blood clotting in the line.  Otherwise, if they hadn’t been concerned about clotting, they would have let her sleep without re-accessing her port.  Charlotte started to cry, because the nurse said she didn’t want to wait the 30 minutes for the Emla numbing cream to work.  She told Charlotte they’d use the freezing spray instead.  Charly doesn’t like the freezing spray.  Eventually, we got everything back together and we all went to sleep. 


Room service for breakfast!

The next day was a waiting game.  Finally, about 2pm, they let us bring Charly home.  She had to keep her port accessed however, because we were to administer IV antibiotics twice daily for the next 4 days.  We were also to stop giving Charlotte her nightly chemo until they told us to begin again.

The IV antibiotics were very interesting.  There are some innovative, smart people in the world.  The “medicine ball” they delivered the antibiotics in is proof of that.  We would take the IV, clean off the tip with alcohol, push a syringe of saline in, then attach the ball to her IV.  When we would release the clamp on the ball, through pressure of an interior balloon, the medicine slowly pushed into her IV for the next 30 minutes.  When it was done, I would detach the deflated ball, push another syringe of saline in, and then a syringe of heparin.  I gave Charly the morning dose before I got into the shower, and the home health nurse came to help Sean his first time in the afternoon.  On Thursday, the home health nurse came to draw blood samples.  By that afternoon, we were approved to discontinue the antibiotics and de-access Charlotte.  Charly was re-started on chemo pills in the evening, but they thankfully decreased the dosage. 

We were also cleared to take Charly on the planned girls’ trip to Orlando.  I had booked tickets and hotel back in December.  When she was admitted less 10 days before the trip, I started wondering what I’d do with the tickets.  The oncology nurse I spoke with commiserated with me.  “This was supposed to be an okay time to plan travel - now that we are done with the hard chemo and in maintenance!  What do I do?  Should I cancel the trip?”  I complained

“Yes, I know.  It’s hard to plan these things.  We don’t want to tell anyone to stop living.” The nurse replied, “We’ve had some kids that spend their entire vacation in a hospital, because they caught something on their trip and started running a fever.”


We decided to go ahead as planned, but I will admit…when Charly started to cough and sniffle the night before we were to go home from Orlando…I laid awake with visions of missing our flight home, stuck in a strange hospital and trying to figure out how to get home.

Charly after my sleepless night.  

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Chemo for February

Charly had another chemo visit this past Thursday.  I’m slacking about posting on the day of the doctor visit.

I would say it has not been a great month.  Since Charlotte’s increase in her chemo meds, she has had a couple major colds, some migraines that were so bad, she threw up, and an ear infection.  She has puked more this past couple months than she has during the entire 9-month “hard chemo” time.  She wakes up most mornings complaining of a sick stomach and sometimes she throws up. She wasn’t feeling well on the morning of her baptism.  I prodded her to eat some toast, and she got dressed and was baptized, even though I could tell she wasn’t 100%.  Last week, while she was on antibiotics for her ear infection, she didn’t want to eat anything.  Nothing tasted good.  Her stomach bothered her.  But she still went to school every day.  I am humbled by her perseverance in the face of adversity.  I also feel as low as dirt for encouraging her to go to school when she is feeling so crummy.  

I called the doctor’s office on February 6th, a week before her scheduled monthly visit.   I just wanted to make sure that perhaps someone didn’t screw up on the chemo dosage and somehow miscalculated the math when they wrote the prescription.  I told the oncology nurse how much Charlotte had been nauseous and how she was losing her hair at an alarming rate.  The nurse spoke with the oncologist, and they suggested we give Charlotte Zofran for the nausea, and that chemo sometimes makes the kids lose hair…even while in maintenance.  So basically, keep going on.

Her hair started coming out in large handfuls a couple weeks ago.  Sean would leave a comb full of hair on the bathroom counter, and when I’d come home from work, I could see how much came out each day.  I’d pull the handful of hair off the comb and throw it out, feeling sick.  Sean said he left the full comb on the counter because he was in a hurry, not because he wanted to show me how much hair she was losing. Whatever the reason, it has been upsetting.  

Last Saturday, I put down an ultimatum that Charlotte needed to wash her hair.  She had been taking baths all week instead of showers, and I can’t tell if she entirely skipped washing her hair, or if she just didn’t rinse it properly after washing it. It was so dirty looking.  I was thinking the weight of the grease or dirt wasn’t helping with her hair loss.  I was pretty firm about it.  Either she would let me wash her hair, or she couldn’t go to the Lego movie with her dad.  She ran off crying.  I found her 15 minutes later on the stairs with giant crocodile tears running down her face.  “Charly, what’s this all about?  Why are you so upset?” 

“I’m afraid my hair will all fall out if I wash it, mom.” 

I cuddled her on the stairs and told her it would be alright, I would carefully wash her hair in the kitchen sink, but it needed to be washed.

Charlotte knelt on a kitchen chair, leaning over a towel placed over the rim of the kitchen sink for a cushion, and I washed her hair as gently as I could.  I still rinsed a lot of it down the drain.  Where the hair had been so thick, it had thinned so much over the past week that I could see her scalp in places.  Thoughts start going through my head – “What if the medication isn’t working?  What if the medication is killing her?  What if her hair never grows back?” We finished up, I gently towel dried and combed her hair, kissed her on her cheek and told her thank you for letting me wash her hair.  Then I went into my bathroom, locked the door, and sat on the floor and cried.

At her visit, the oncologist reminded me that everybody loses hair every day.  It’s normal. However, for cancer patients, since all their hair grows in at exactly the same time, it’s all on the same growth cycle.  The patients tend to lose larger quantities at the same time.  Also, chemo is essentially a poison.  Some kids will have higher hair loss as they continue taking chemo.  Basically, we are to suck it up and stop worrying because it’s not like they are going to stop chemo to save her hair.  (They didn’t say that.  They are very nice and sympathetic, but in cancer treatment the only option is to continue moving forward, no pause or stop.)

Charly’s ANC counts were still higher than they want them to be during maintenance.  Last month, they were 4000 – but she was just getting over a virus, so they attributed her high counts to her body fighting off the infection.  This month, the ANC levels were 1900.  They want her between 950-1400.  Normally, after 2 months being high, they would increase her chemo again.  However, given the problems of the past two months, they decided to wait for one more month before increasing her dosage.  If she is high again next month, they will definitely increase her dosage. 

They also warned me that they were prepared to increase her meds up to 150%.  Last month, Dr. Maese mentioned she was at 80%.  (Percentage of what, I’m not sure.  I will put that on my list of questions for next time.)  But based on those percentages, I guess they are prepared to have her take as much as double the amount of chemo she is taking now to achieve the blood results they are looking for.

Yuck. “Just get us through the cold season and into spring!” was all I said.

Dr. Barnett said that even though we were warned to give her chemo on an empty stomach, if her nausea persists, we could give her half a granola bar to take with her meds at night.  As long as whatever we give her with her meds is not milk-based.  We also have been taking advantage of the Zofran prescription that helps prevent nausea.  Charly only has taken this medicine twice for nausea during the first 18-months of her treatment, but she’s had about 6 doses of the medication in the last few weeks.  It just goes to show how miserable she must be feeling.


On a brighter side… The last couple days, it seems her hair loss is now a lot less.  Only a few strands come out when I comb her hair.  She also hasn’t complained of nausea as much, and hasn’t thrown up for a week.  I do wonder if it’s the antibiotics that she was taking that caused the stomachaches – not completely unheard of.  They asked if any of our family had been sick in the last month, and we have not.  She could have caught a mild stomach bug at school.  It’s all guess work. I’m just praying that we see better results next month.

Friday, February 7, 2014

Tales of a Traveling Salesgirl - part 2

Waikiki, HI - October 2006

Our office had presented a team course for staff in Hawaii.  Technically, it was our boss who did the presenting.  However, a few months earlier, I closed a really profitable, real uncommon, 6-figure sale.  I went into Gordon's office, slapped the invoice for the sale onto his desk and told him he needed to take OUR team to Hawaii for the course.  He agreed, and we brought the entire team to work the course in Hawaii.  

This is a rare event for our office.   We even got our own rooms so we could bring our spouses (at our own expense, of course).  On the first day of the trip, Gordon had a 3-hour team meeting, then we had the course from 6am to 5pm on the next two days.  On the last day of the trip we were scheduled to fly home at 10pm, but we had the day to explore the island.

Sean is not an early-morning guy.  It didn't matter if there was a 4-hour time change to his benefit.  I woke up at 6am, and decided to go sit on the balcony to read a book in the morning sun.  I sat on a lawn chair, with my feet stretched out and balanced on the balcony railing.  The ocean was making a lovely swooshing noise in the background, and my book was excellent.  A warm, humid breeze blew the smell of exotic flowers and ocean.  At one point, I realized that the breeze seemed to be picking up.  I paused reading, thinking, "Wow, the breeze is blowing so hard, it feels like the building is swaying."  Which, when you think about it, is ridiculous.  Breezes don't blow hard enough to move a building.  

Right when this thought crosses my mind, Sean ripped open the curtains to the balcony windows and snaps at me, scowling "Don't you think you should come inside now?!"  

Apparently, we just experienced an earthquake.  They are remarkably quiet if you are sitting outside.  Hearing my co-workers' accounts of the quake, it was quite noisy inside the hotel.  

I can't remember the magnitude of the quake, but it knocked out power to the entire island of Oahu.  The elevators and for a while the water (which means the toilets) didn't work.  Eventually, they did get the water working, but the power remained out all day.  I asked Sean if we should be concerned about a Tsunami or not.  We were somewhere in the double-digits for our hotel floor, and figured it was higher than the ground floor.  If a wave actually reached the hotel that was that high, we figured it would cover the entire island and at that point, it was pointless to try and find higher ground.  So we chatted to our hotel room neighbors as we hung out on the balcony.  

My friend & co-worker, Amy, has a cop husband (Mike), who immediately packed up Amy and drove to the high ground.   I guess that must be all that emergency training kicking in.  Unfortunately, Amy was splitting the car rental with Valinda and her husband, Dan.  Valinda and Dan were in the hotel room a floor above us.  While Amy and Mike were fleeing for high ground, Sean and I were chatting about tsunami potential with Valinda and Dan.  Amy still gets grief from Valinda for abandoning them at the hotel.  

Thankfully, there was no tsunami.  But the entire day was a bust.  We didn't dare check out of the hotel room, because flights leaving Oahu were being cancelled left and right.    There wasn't anywhere to go as a tourist, because there was no power.  All the shops and places that ran off credit cards were gated off. Proprietors would only allow one customer inside the store at a time, and only could take cash transactions.  Somebody from the group stood in line at the nearest ABC store and bought a loaf of bread and peanut butter so we could all have lunch.   By dinner time, the hotel had pulled out BBQ grills and was charging an enormous amount for hamburgers and hot dogs - eaten by candlelight in their restaurant.  

Random knowledge shared by another employee’s husband - the hotel won't charge you for drinking the $4 bottled water in your room during an emergency, and they keep emergency supplies like flashlights in the mini bar.

A couple hours before our flight, we decided to trust Delta’s assurances that we would be flying out that night.  We returned our car rentals to a completely dark parking lot after driving through streets with non-operational stoplights. For the first time that day, we saw evidence of electricity at the airport.  Thankfully, we were able to take off about 10:30 that night and return home on the first flight leaving the island since the quake that morning.

Gordon was quite thrilled that he had left the evening before, missing the entire adventure.

Atlanta - March 2008

This story is a pretty interesting one.  It also contains some of those cringe-worthy moments that come from realizing too late the filter between brain and mouth hasn’t been engaged.  

This was a stupid trip.  It was my first time working a booth in a convention hall.  I have since learned much about running a booth, but at the time I was clueless.  Somebody else was in charge of the planning, and I was just told where to go, and what days I would be working.  It was at a point in our company when we were collaborating with a group out of Arizona.  Gordon was being heavily courting to be the dean of their educational organization in Arizona.  The "powers that be" wanted someone from our organization to work with people from their group at their booth at the 2008 Hinman Dental meeting meeting.  That's how I ended up sharing a hotel room with Shayna from Arizona.

I had been traveling for work for a few years by this time, and I was confident in my abilities to sell, even though I’d never worked a booth before.  By the end of the second day, I felt we had been doing successfully, but my feet were killing me, and my voice was starting to wear out.

Shayna and I were so tired, we decided to get Chinese dinner from the restaurant outside the hotel and return to our room.  The two nights previous involved social schmoozing events, later nights, and a lot more alcohol on the part of Shayna and the other Arizona people.  Shayna and I had just put up our feet and started to read what exactly we were supposed to do in order to pack up and return ship our booth the next day. It was about 8pm and a storm was building outside.  I remember exclaiming, “I LOVE thunderstorms!” to Shayna and getting up to pull open the curtains to look out at the lightening.  Shayna agreed and got up to look out the window with me.  

It took a second or two looking out the window to register that I was looking at an orange construction barrel flying at eye level of our 3rd floor window.  I faintly stated, "We should probably get away from the window", and I start walking away from the window.  At the same time, Shayna starts screaming and runs for the hotel room door.  I know it sounds hokey, but a voice in my head clearly stated, "Do NOT open the door."  I rushed after Shayna, reaching the door only seconds behind her.  She succeeded in pulling open the door 2-3 inches, and I placed my hand above the sliding lock over her head and shove the door shut.  The moment she opened the door, there was a "POP" sound as our floor-to-ceiling windows shattered and the room was then filled with a loud roaring noise.  I don't know how I managed to throw a grown woman around, but I grabbed Shayna and shoved her into the bathroom and shut the door.  For one moment, I almost immediately went back out to get my cell phone off my hotel bed.  I stopped myself from opening the door and firmly folded my arms and turned around to lean against the door to prevent me from leaving.  The noise was unbelievable.  It also lasted only moments.  Shayna and I stared at each other – She sitting in the bathtub and me leaning protectively against the bathroom door. I don't think we said a word.  

When the noise stopped, I ran out of the bathroom to grab my phone.  I could see our curtains flapping outside in the breeze.  Car alarms and sirens could be heard from outside.  We stepped up to the edge and surveyed the chaos below.  Billboards and traffic lights had been crumpled like tin foil.  Cars overturned, and debris everywhere.  I start slapping everything into my suitcase, and grabbed the booth orders, because there were credit card numbers on them. Clutching the orders to my chest, I declared, "Grab the orders! There might be looting!"  We quickly gather our stuff to vacate the room.  I turn around to see Shayna kneeling before the mini bar.  "Don't judge me" she declared vehemently, as she thrust both hands into the mini bar and came out with over a half-dozen mini alcohol bottles - the little necks protruding from between the fingers of her hands.  "I REALLY NEED THESE!" She said as she shook her fists-full of bottles at me.

I get on my cellphone to let important people know I was alright.  First, I call Sean.  As usual, it went to voicemail. He doesn't like to answer the phone…it’s kinda annoying.  Then I called my folks. They were happy to hear I was okay, although they hadn't heard anything about the tornado yet in the news.  Finally, I called my boss.  I suspect he initially thought I was exaggerating.  When I told him about our windows and the crumpled billboards and overturned cars, he was amazed at HIS good fortune for leaving earlier that afternoon.  "I have the most amazing luck!  I always seem to leave and just miss things when something major happens. Floods, ice storms, the 9-11 attacks…  I left before the earthquake in Hawaii, and now I missed this!"  This is where I cut him off and said I had to go and hung up on him.  I needed two hands to carry my luggage down the stairs, and I didn't want to help Gordon marvel about Gordon's good fortune.  

Stepping out of our room, the hallway was covered in broken glass from the skylight some 18 stories above us being shattered.  Looking over the atrium balcony, you could see giant planters had been blown across the lobby as if they were made of Styrofoam instead of cement.  Shayna and I passed a gentleman who, for whatever reason, decided to investigate what was going on in the hallway wearing nothing but his tightie whities.  He inquired if we were okay.  We called over our shoulder as we muscled our luggage into the emergency stairwell that our windows were blown out, so we were going to the Hilton.  (Because, obviously, Hilton’s are tornado-proof, unlike the cheap dive we were currently residing).

Upon reaching the lobby level, we were directed by the hotel staff to a lower ballroom with no exterior windows.  There were still tornado warnings in the area.  We remained there for a few hours.  During that time, Shayna chugged the half-dozen bottles that she swiped from the mini bar, she then bummed a couple cigarettes from another evacuee and went to the parking garage to smoke them, and somehow she found someone with a spare Valium.  I thought I was handling everything pretty well, until I did something so stupid, I still cringe when I think about it.  

The executives from the Arizona group were staying at the same hotel.  They were all dressed in their suits & ties.  They stood in a circle and had their arms folded and heads bowed with serious expressions.  I walk up to the group and said, "Are you praying?"  They looked at me, like I was a little crazy, and one of the men asked how I was doing as the rest of the group dispersed to the other side of the room.  

The part that is cringe-worthy is because it had been a serious question. Hello!  They had their arms folded - that's Mormon for "Prayer Time"!   Knowing what I DID know about these guys, I definitely shouldn't have drawn that mental association.  Their religion was strictly for the church of the almighty wallet.  Yet, the tornado apparently rattled me enough to make me forget that and sound like a total rube.

Finally, the hotel staff gave us the "all clear" signal. We did head for the Hilton, where another staff member from Arizona had her own hotel room.  I'm still not clear how it was that I ended up sharing a room with Shayna.  If Shayna had a co-worker at the meeting, shouldn't they have shared a room? Honestly, they worked together! I digress.

The walk over to the hotel was amazing.  All the hotels and buildings in the area had random windows blown out, with curtains blowing in the wind.  All that damage, accomplished in only a few minutes. We tried ordering an additional roll-out bed at the Hilton, but they were out.  I was so tired, I declared that the three of us could share the king-size bed, because I was too tired to care. I passed out after showering to get the glass out of my clothing and hair.  

The conference was cancelled.  Nobody was allowed into the exhibit hall, because the roof had massive damage and broken pipes resulted in a flooded exhibit hall.  Millions of dollars of dental equipment, destroyed.  


When I returned home, I recall finding glass shards in my luggage after I unpacked.  I also gained a reputation as being the girl you don’t want to travel with, as apparently natural disasters occur around me.

Thursday, January 16, 2014

A Charly Update

Jan 16, 2014

Today's clinic visit started off well - No snow for the drive up to the hospital!  That always makes for a better visit.  The docs came in and checked Charlotte over for signs that she has recovered nicely from her latest bug.

Last Tuesday evening, Charly started running a fever around 7pm, and when she hit the magic 1-hour mark of running a fever over 100.4, I called the oncologist on call and was directed to drive up to the ER at Primary Children's so they could check Charlotte out.  I texted Sean, who isn't allowed his cell phone while at work, that we would be going to the ER because Charly had a fever.  By the time he finished his shift a little before 9, we were pulling into the ER parking lot.

I find myself explaining to people - it's not an emergency, it's just nobody works at the oncology clinic after 4pm, so we have to go to the ER... just to make sure she isn't having some sort of bacterial infection.

Charly and I got to Primary's by 9pm, and didn't leave almost 2am. Needless to say, I emailed work and said I was NOT coming in the next day (that day).  I honestly felt they could have let us go by 11pm, but they decided they wanted to do a chest x-ray, and they wanted to do a nasal swab to see what virus she had, and even though we called ahead, the nurses and doctors were busy elsewhere for a while.  We were given the IV antibiotics, and they took a blood sample to test and see if she was having something bacterial going on.  Charly's port was not very cooperative, it took the nurse about 15 minutes to get her blood sample.

Honestly, by about midnight, I think they forgot we were there.  When the resident left us at 11:30, she told us they were waiting for a radiologist to look at the x-rays and then we could go, they would call us with the results from the virus swab the next morning.  There was a shift change, and the new resident felt that we could just hang out until the results came through.

Anyhow...that's seems to be what happens when Charly catches a virus.  It's not because it's necessarily an emergency that we have to go to the emergency room, it's just that they take infection risk seriously, and the ER is where you go when it's after-hours.  I asked Dr. Maese today if at any point we'd not jump to take her in with a fever, how bad would it be to wait and go in the morning to the clinic. (I had one cancer mom tell me at the Christmas party that they fudged bringing their child up a few times, because "honestly, it's impossible to just drop everything when I know it's just a bug."  Sitting in the ER as it approached midnight, those words echoed in my head.)  Dr. Maese just shook his head and said, "We just want you to come in right away.  It's pretty important."

The nurse came in to take Charly's blood to check her levels.  Her normally cooperative port refused to let any blood out.  I guess I should have predicted this from the ER nurse's difficulty pulling a blood sample the week before.  This happens occasionally to ports.  The nurses ask the patient to raise an arm above their head, then both arms, then to sit up straight, then to poke their chest out... None of these tricks helped.  So they ordered TPH from the pharmacy.  They inject TPH into the port and let it sit in her port for a half-hour.  After the half-hour, the port works great.  The TPH causes any blood clots to disolve.  It takes about a half-hour for the TPH to arrive from the pharmacy, so the port challenges added another 90 minutes to our visit today.

When her port was finally cleared, they pulled her blood sample and pushed her chemo, Vincristine.  We were out by noon.  I told Charlotte she could pick where we went for lunch, and she selected Olive Garden.  She wanted soup.  I was hoping for a drive-through, but promises are promises.  We went to the Olive Garden and enjoyed unlimited soup, salad, and breadsticks.  Charly finished 5 breadsticks and a bowl of soup.

After lunch, we went and got a trim.  Charlotte's hair is growing back great, but it's pretty messy.  I'm sure most people couldn't tell we did much with her hair, but the goal is to keep as much of the length we can.  I just wanted it a little more tidy for her 8-year old pictures.

One more development that we finally have discovered the answer to...Charly started getting a rash on her cheek 3 months ago. It would go away when she was on steriods, then it would be back - pimply and red.  It spread to her chin, underneath her lip, and over the bridge of her nose to the other side.  I kept pointing it out to the oncologists, and they said it wasn't something they were very concerned with.  One suggested that if Charlotte tried itching it, to put some cortisone on it.

The rash was still worrying me, and cortisone didn't appear to help long-term, so before the year ended, I made an appointment with a dermatologist.  The dermatologist immediately diagnosed it as steroid dermatitis.  Said it was textbook symptoms.  What does that mean?  The stupid steroids cause the rash.  It takes 3 weeks off steroids for the rash to clear up.  Since she's going to be on steroids every month for the next year, she's going to have a recurring rash every month.  If you see it, don't worry, it's not catching.  The dermatologist told me to NOT put cortisone on it (it's a steroid, and just makes it worse).  He prescribed an "emollient" that we could put on the rash.  The creme has helped a lot, and now I have one more reason to hate the stupid steroids.

All in all, it's going great.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Life of a traveling sales girl

Traveling for work is pretty interesting.  There have been funny stories, there have been scary moments, there have been interesting characters, and there have been WAY too many scary cab drivers.

For the most part, traveling for work has been uneventful, but every once in a while, we have an ... ADVENTURE. 

For instance, California 2009
Valinda and I were traveling separately from our boss back to the airport after the meeting.  He was driving onto his next commitment - a private consultation for the next day, and Valinda and I were to catch a cab and drive an hour to the airport.  The meeting ran late, and we were tight for time.  Prior to the meeting, we arranged for a cab to pick us up for exactly 30 minutes after the lecture.  When we scurried to the front of the lecture center, there was no cab.  We sat for 20 minutes, calling the cab company, only to be told our guy was in route to pick us up and to be patient.  Finally, the cab driver came.  He apologized profusely as he stashed what appeared to be plastic tubs of his own clothing into the trunk.  Since his trunk was almost full, I wondered if our luggage would make it in.  We stressed to the driver that we would need to get to the airport right away, because we only had 90 minutes before our flight took off, and the drive was going to take 45 minutes. 

The driver assured us we would be fine.  He was late because he had to stop by the pharmacy and get medication for one his regular customers.  By the way, his gas tank was almost empty, and we'd have to stop and fill it up before we could head to the airport.  The driver careened into a gas station and began pumping gas into his tank. Valinda and I kept glancing at our watches and each other.  "I think he lives out of his car." she whispered at me.  Just then a smoky voice called out, "Hey Babe!"  and our driver answered "Sweetheart!"  He embraced what Valinda and I later agreed was likely a prostitute (an older and well-used one) and they chatted warmly with each other, continuing even after the familiar “THUNK” of the pump shutting off from a full tank.

At this point, Valinda and I are furiously whispering if we should try and call for another cab.  The driver cheerfully says farewell to his lady friend and climbs into the car.    He assures us we will make the airport about 15 minutes before our flight - PLENTY of time.  Then he gets onto the highway and pushes the speedometer to 100mph.  The Ford Taurus was shuddering at the punishment, and I started a text conversation with Valinda while the driver is talking about his dislike of airports and airport security. 

[my txt] We are going to die.  He's going 100!

The driver is sharing with Valinda a charming story about how he smuggled a turkey bag of marijuana thru airport security on the way to Hawaii with his now ex-wife.  Really?  This is appropriate to share with your clients? That you are a druggie while you are pushing 110mph in a shuddering Ford Taurus?

[Valinda Txt]  I'm starting to wonder if he smoked something before he picked us up!   I’m texting with Dan [her hubby], so he knows where to find our bodies and who to sue.

We did arrive at the airport in one piece, threw our money at him, and ran to the gate in time to board our plane.  His parting words to us as we barrel into the airport with our luggage?  “Call me next time I’m in Utah!” 

You got it dude. 

We still talk about Turkey bags of marijuana. What is that exactly?  My non-existent drug knowledge leads me to think of the Reynolds oven bags I used to cook a turkey in so the pan would be easier to clean.  However, I suspect that was not what he was referring to.

Chicago, 2011
Another adventure that comes to mind involved my coworker Amy.  The year before, we worked a booth in Atlanta and became friends with Bill.  Bill was working in the booth adjacent to us selling disposable dental handpieces.  "Pastor Bill", as we called him, was hilarious.  He has worked as a dental sales rep for many different dental companies for many decades.  He also worked part time as a pastor in his congregation, ergo, the nickname.  He would share stories of his misadventures with us when the traffic was slow.  When we set up our Chicago booth, we were thrilled to see Pastor Bill residing kitty-corner from our booth.  We would visit back and forth, trading stories. At the end of the day, Bill comes by and announces that Van Halen is playing at the United Center, and would we like to go?  Amy immediately was all over that. So, for $20 each, we enjoyed a Van Halen concert from the nose bleed section.  I only recognized 2 songs, Jump and Running with the Devil, but still had a fun time.  After our shared cab ride to the United Center, Bill and his supervisor were ranting how the cab driver who drove them to the Black Hawks game the night before ripped them off, almost $50 more than we paid that evening.  They asked our driver if we’d be able to catch a cab from the United Center after the concert, and our cab driver assured us it would be no problem. 

Yeah, right.  No problem.

We couldn't catch a cab for anything in that crowd.  We walked up the road from the parking lot in hopes of catching a cab. Pastor Bill sees a cab, and realized it was the cabbie that drove them to the stadium the night before.  Immediately, he starts cat-calling at the guy, interrupting his negotiations with a potential fare.  "Hey, you ripped us off yesterday! We paid $80 when you drove us here yesterday! Our cab fare was only $30 today!  Is your name Gana?  Gana Rip You Off?"  The cab driver's potential fare walked away, and in broken English the driver started yelling at Bill to step away from the cab if he didn't want a ride. 

We finally sought sanctuary at a Dunkin Donuts from the frigid February Chicago winds.  Amy and I ordered hot chocolate and the guys went outside, walking up and down the street trying to wave down a cab, but no cabs were present.  After 30 minutes, I joked with Amy that we should order delivery from the restaurant next door and see if they'd deliver us to the hotel with the pizza.  We laughed, but 10 minutes later with no cabs, and the cab company saying it would be an hour before we could be picked up, we mentioned my brilliant idea to Bill.  Immediately, the guys went to negotiate with the restaurant manager. 20 minutes later, we four all pile into the pizza delivery car.  For just $20, we were delivered back to the Marriott along with a piping hot pizza.  The delivery driver also got a $20 tip.  A bargain for all parties involved. 

I wonder if the pizza guy has fond memories of the 4 crazy people who had themselves delivered along with their pizza.  I know I do.

Seattle, 200?
Not all our auto transportation adventures revolve around cab drivers.  Amy and I were working Gordon's lecture at University of Washington.  When we travel, we set up a table, answer questions, and take orders during the meeting.  We usually have models and DVD players, etc. at the table.  Our luggage is usually under the table, as we have checked out of hotel and will travel home after the lecture.  Because of this, we don't leave the table for lunch if it isn't nearby.  Since we were at the University, and the sponsoring group wasn't offering lunch to the attendees, we grabbed a light snack at the campus bookstore, the closest location we could find to get something to eat.

By the end of the day, we were looking forward to grabbing something to eat at the airport.  One of the dentists in charge of the meeting was responsible to bring Gordon and his ladies back to the airport.  The man was the type that kept one foot on the brake and one foot on the gas.  With all the traffic, our ride to the airport was GO and then rapidly jerking to a STOP.  Over and over.  Already feeling ill from lack of lunch, Amy and I were in the back seat, rapidly turning green.  It was raining outside, but I cracked my window in hopes that the toxic fumes of hundreds of cars (also known as "fresh air") would help me keep my stomach calm.  Amy did the same.  I grabbed some spearmint gum and started chewing it frantically.  I offered Amy some gum too.

From the front seat, Gordon interrupts his conversation with the driver to ask, "Is the window open?"  "Yes, I just was wanting some fresh air" I replied, as I watch Amy calmly pick up the newspaper lying on the leather seat between us.  She held the paper over her mouth and started to heave.  I was amazed.  Amy can barf without making a sound.  That's impressive.  She finishes casting up her accounts and quietly folded the newspaper using some complex origami trick to keep everything contained inside.  When we pull into the airport, Amy casually drapes her sweater over the newspaper, to hide the fact she is taking it to throw away and the man will never finish his crossword puzzle.

Sitting at a Wendy's after going through airport security, I looked at Amy and started laughing. She had a faint shadow of newsprint down the side of her nose. Gordon, clueless, wanted to know what was so funny.

In part two of this post:
Hawaii, 2007?
Earthquake

Atlanta, 2008
Tornado