Beyond the fact that I was tired when I left my home to go the airport, and tired while I sat at the airport too long... and nearly missed my flight because the airline changed gates and somehow I missed that announcement... outside of all of that... I had hoped that getting on the plane would be relatively easy.
Um. No.
My left arm is wacky. There's no other way to put it. It is, what it is. Since the mastectomy included removing cancerous lymph nodes as well as my breast tissue, my poor arm just isn't the same. I was warned about that. (shaking my head) But I swear I just am sick of breast cancer dogging my life in these little ways.
My arm has been acting up a little bit, over the past few days/weeks. Which is cool. I am learning to deal with the minor issues. But I was a bit worried that flying between home, Atlanta and the mid-west, would aggravate my arm and make life a bit hellish. I had hoped that my worrying was in vain. But... of course it wasn't.
One of the reasons that I am angry (well maybe annoyed is a better word) about being on this side of the breast cancer journey is that people look at you and cannot SEE that you've been through hell. People look at you and just see, a regular ol' person. I suppose that is a good thing but sometimes it is a pain in the butt.
Case in point: I always check my suitcase. I do not like the hassle of dragging around carry-on luggage. I check my luggage and I keep on going. But on this trip, even though I checked my luggage, I still had to lug around my laptop case. Because I ended up being one of the last to board the flight -- instead of one of the first -- I was frustrated squeezing down the aisle of the plane. (Side note: do the airlines just HATE their passengers or what? Grr... sick of feeling squeezed on planes.)
As I am coming close to my assigned seat, the flight attendant was standing sort of in my way blocking the aisle. Granted, it is very early in the morning and Nicole is not a morning person but I felt that she was a just a tad bit... abrasive for early in the day. Nonetheless, I responded to her bark about where my seat was located with a tight jaw and a smile. After my response seemed to make sense to her, I found myself standing far too close to her as she stood up to get out of my seating area and allow me to sit down.
Now, picture this. I am 5'9" tall and a bit thick (not fat, just not skinny). She is about the same height, also african-american and pretty solid herself. Not fat, just not skinny either. We are standing uber-close -- practically nose to nose because the aisle is just that tight. I am feeling agitated because I was boarding so late and its crowded. I am annoyed because most of the overhead storage space is taken -- the flight was packed -- and the flight attendants kept repeating the same mantra (basically, put your bag where ever you see an opening). So, I'm standing there with this http://greenhillgoldman.blogspot.comian chick blocking my seat and I look up to notice that there is actually space just above my seat for my laptop bag.
My left arm is tight. The lymphedema has been acting up and I'm already feeling the heaviness. Remember too that I can barely lift my left arm over my head... my range of motion has been shot to hell since the first surgery (aggravated by the reconstruction last fall). In other words, I am dreading the attempt to lift this heavy bag up and over my head to put it in the overhead bin.
When people cannot look at you and immediately see what "your" problem is, they naturally assume that you don't have one. I was standing close enough to this woman to kiss her (if I got down that way) and I said to her... "Would you please help me with my bag?" She asked me to repeat myself, as though she didn't hear me... so I said again... "would you help me with this?".
Do you know that this woman said "sure" and then proceeded to squeeze herself past me -- moving farther up the aisle from me -- and did NOT offer nor attempt to help me lift my bag into the storage bin.
Sigh. It took a lot of self-talk for me to articulate that simple sentence out loud. Asking for help is not something I do easily or well. But I knew that I would need help and I felt it was okay to ask for it. To be ignored, then to feel the eyes of lots of passengers on me as I struggled to lift my wheeled lap-top bag up from the floor to the top of the seat, and then to struggle to lift it from the top of the chair into the storage bin was really humilating.
I know I don't "look" like there's anything wrong with me. I know that people do not have to go out of their way to help me. But I find it particularly repulsive when I ask directly for help and am ignored and stranded. Who does that? Hears a request for help and then just walks on by?
After I get my bag into the storage container and sit down, its all I can do not to become upset and teary. I didn't ask for preferential treatment, just a little assistance. And that was too much to ask, I suppose. Just very annoying. I got through the flight, I pulled my own bag down from the storage bin just as awkwardly as I put it up there. But no pride of accomplishment was there.
Two days later, my arm is still swollen -- it started acting up while I was hanging out today -- and I have to been on a plane in a few hours. (which will only increase my discomfort because flying aggravates the lympedema) I am dreading getting on that flight, and dreading dealing with that laptop computer. I am worried that when I get off the plane, my arm will really be swollen and crazy looking. Its not looking too great for this arm.
I've been so pressed to get back to "normal" that I forgot what its like the normal world for peple are not at the top of their game. I am generally well-adjusted and cool with my current fate -- however, a little more compassion from people in the world would really help make my life just a tad bit smoother.
Where is the love? Do I have to revert back to my chemo-look? Bald head and sallow skin tone? In order to expect that people will take a few moments to look at and to address whatever problem or assistance I may have/need. I guess that its the way of the world today.
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