Days 93 and 94: The Longest Day of My Life

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I spent Day 93, Wednesday, resting, reading quietly, and willing my collarbone to heal. The only noticeable effect was that, on Thursday morning, I noticed that the "Vampire's Kiss" blisters had broken open and scabbed over.

My sling broke, but Kevan bought me an Ace wrap. It'll do until I can buy a proper sling again in L.A..

Then came Day 94, Thursday, the longest day of my life. I'd be flying out of Auckland at 11 p.m. on Thursday, and landing in L.A. at 2 p.m. on that same Thursday. Time travel!

I rested and read until it was time to go to the airport. Kevan and his son Alex drove me there. Kevan had suggested that I ask for assistance at the gate, and I wish I had. But I had a particularly clueless gate attendant ("What's COPD? And what's a POC?") who never thought to ask me if I needed assistance, and I was too preoccupied with arguing over his blithe announcement that although the seat next to mine would be held open for me, they could not, he said, block off 42C, as the flight was quite full.

Since I'd been told on my December flight that the Personal Oxygen Concentrator was always placed under 42C, I had the mistaken idea that it was attached to the floor there. Certainly the flight attendants on the December trip did all the adjusting of the controls for me, since there was no way I could reach it. I was therefore afraid that I would be moved to 42B-C at the gate -- or that I wouldn't be moved and would have to run my cannula across 42C's lap.

I did not manage to make the reason for my anxiety clear, so for the next several hours I tried unsuccessfully not to worry about it. I was very early, but that was good, as the airport was terribly crowded. I drank some overpriced and inferior hot chocolate, watched the sunset through a picture window, and then read e-books on my computer until NZ 2's gate was finally announced.

I was the first person at the gate, so I got a good seat. About half an hour later, the gate attendant arrived, and I left my seat to ask her about the 42 A/B/C mixup. She told the person in front of me that the flight was overbooked, which answered that part of the question, but I still needed to know how it was all going to work.

The gate attendant did not understand what I was worried about either, and she simply affirmed that I would have oxygen and would be in 42 A-B. I tried to return to my seat and found that someone had taken it, even though I had asked someone near me to guard it.

I made a bit of a fuss, as I needed a left-hand seat to brace and protect my shoulder, and someone gave me their left-handed seat; not as nice as the one I'd lost, but okay. I began explaining why I'd gone to the gate to the person next to me, and she said I ought really to be over with the special-assistance people in another part of the gate. I agreed, but you couldn't just go to that area and I wasn't sure how to get there.

She urged me to go to the gate again and ask if I might join that cohort, and said she'd watch both my seat and my bags. So, rather hesitantly, I did. I was moved at once into the special area and pre-boarded a few minutes later.

The flight crew was tired and preoccupied. Apparently the problem was the earthquake; I suppose I ought to have realized sooner, but I hadn't. They've been dealing with unusually full flights for weeks.

Anyhow, things could not have been more different from the December flight. On that flight I was fussed over like a hen's single chick -- settled tenderly into my special 42 A-B-C seats, fitted carefully for the cannula, checked on every few minutes by a flight attendant to make sure the oxygen was still flowing, etc., etc.. This time, the oxygen unit had been tucked rather haphazardly into the back-seat basket of 42A. I moved it to 42B, attracting the attention of a stewardess who asked me sharply whether I knew the person who would be sitting in 42B.

I explained that 42B was also my seat, which was apparently a satisfactory answer, because she shut up, but the only further attention I got was to have the POC checked over quickly to make sure it was connected on their end. I was left to put the cannula on myself and even to start the unit, though I believe she did wait to make sure I had, in fact, started it.

It took me about four hours to figure out how to get the cannula on properly. Before that, I had the nosepiece upside down and hadn't thought to anchor it on my ears, so it kept falling off if I moved my head. I had to work out something more secure to try to sleep, and once I remembered that my ears had been involved somehow in December, it was smoother sailing.

No one brought me a seat-belt extender, and I didn't think to ask for one until too late, Fortunately, just as with InterCity, I found I could now fasten the regular seatbelt. It was even fairly comfortable, unlike InterCity's. I still couldn't have fit into one economy seat, though; my hips are too wide for the seat with the armrest down. Besides, the POC takes up a fair amount of space.

(So, in the end, I did need to buy two seats, so I can stop reproaching myself for possibly wasting money by doing so. 42B was the only empty seat on the plane.)

Although the flight, at 12 hours, was shorter than the 13-hour outbound journey, it seemed to take longer, probably because I couldn't get up and go to the restroom whenever I liked, as I had in December. I watched three movies: "The King's Speech," "Toy Story 3," and "Secretariat." Of these, "Toy Story 3" was the only one that kept my attention so thoroughly that I almost forgot I was watching it on a plane. I found "The King's Speech" boring and mildly offensive in places; I'd thought I would like it as I've always admired George vI, but I didn't. It didn't help that it had, by the nature of its subject matter, a lot of "talking heads," which make a movie hard to follow for me, as my prosopagnosia can keep me from being certain who is speaking.

"Toy Story 3" was exciting and entertaining, though the nature of the world seemed to have changed a bit since the original "Toy Story." (I haven't seen "Toy Story 2.") The toys seemed bolder and much readier to act on their own.

I had read a lot about "Secretariat" in the pages of the Blood-Horse and for that reason it was interesting to see it, but I know quite a bit about Secretariat's career, so there was no suspense; I knew which races he would win and which lose.

Supper on the plane was good, a chicken parmigiana, but breakfast was some tasteless sausages, a decent enough egg, and some mushrooms (and I don't like mushrooms). One good consequence of having a special meal was that my food was served first, often long, long before the regular meal cart reached row 42.

When the plane landed, I am glad to say that that special attention continued. My seatmate was kind enough to ask if she could help me with my luggage, and she was overheard by a flight attendant, who said quickly that if I would wait to disembark until all the able-bodied had left, there would be someone to assist me.

I thought it over and realized I didn't have much choice; someone had whisked away my stick when I boarded; I had no idea where it was, and there was no one to ask. So I watched all the dozens of people file off. When I finally came out of the plane, there was a fuss because I was not on the official list for special assistance. It was eventually agreed that I would make my own way downstairs but would receive help with my luggage once there.

I did. In fact, I was helped not only with my luggage but with clearing customs. I was whisked past lines that looked to have over a hundred people in them, with an Air New Zealand employee pushing my luggage cart. Customs clearance was cursory, as was USDA's; they barely glanced at my declaration, much less my luggage.

I had had good luck with security procedures at the start of the flight, too. For some reason, my artificial collarbone did not set off the metal-detector this time. (Jim thinks they must have had the machine off.) Therefore I was whisked through that, too, like a normal person. They X-rayed my bags and looked briefly at my laptop and TENS unit (and, unlike the TSA, if they turned the TENS unit on, they had the courtesy to turn it back off again. I lost a perfectly good 9-volt battery that way in December.)

I changed my last $75 of New Zealand money, not counting a few bills I'm keeping as souvenirs, into $50 U.S., and caught the hotel shuttle to the La Quinta. Once there, I gritted my teeth and paid the $3.50 fee to pull a bit more cash from the lobby's ATM, just to be on the safe side.

I hadn't been able to sleep on the plane, even once I got my cannula adjusted, so I'd been 36 hours without sleep when I got to the La Quinta. I took a four-hour nap at once; then I went for a brief swim (the water was a bit too cold) and considered doing laundry. I've decided, however, to wait and do that tomorrow.

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Comments

[Lindley Roff]

Your trip
Hi there. Thank you for connecting me with your blog. I only just caught up with you. I'm glad you had such a wonderful trip. It brought back super memories for me. Though I was terribly sorry to hear of the tragedy of the Christchurch earthquake - thank God there were no deaths at the Cathedral, which I found a wonderful place, as you did. I had a wonderful time when I was in New Zealand as well. I'm sorry you had some troubles with your various conditions; however, I'm glad you dealt so well with them. Cheers, Lindley