‘Rebooting a plane’

I’ve never thought I was normal. I don’t believe there is a ‘normal’. But on my recent return trip from NYC (to see my wonderful daughter), I laughed at discovering another quirky thing to add to my arsenal of, uh, what I’ll call kind of crazy thinking.

Here’s the lead in:

I get on the 4:46 JetBlue flight out of La Guardia with only purse and book in hand after graciously turning in my carry-on to “help speed up departure.” Comfortable in my window seat, I become so engrossed with my Strands bookstore purchase, I lose track of time until I hear the overhead announcement.

“Folks, we are sorry for the long wait on the tarmac. On the control panel, one program button isn’t lighting up. We are returning to the gate.”

In my world, all the buttons don’t need to be lit. While I pretend to have wings and fly through the clouds on a plane so big they call it an AirBus, that’s a different story. I want those buttons lit, flashing, and sparkling like the KiraKira App my daughter showed me on her phone.

We roll back to the gate. We don’t get up and squeeze back down the aisle made to only fit runway models. We get this instead:

“Folks, we’re going to keep you on, turn the engines off, allow resetting, and restart.”

What?! That sounds like ‘rebooting’. They are rebooting the plane. My daughter’s last email to me, only an hour ago was ‘If there is anything weird going on or any passengers get weird, get out of there.’ Rebooting a plane. That might fit the bill.

Two passengers walked to the front and disappeared. I dug around the seat pocket in front of me until I found the barf bag. Just wanted it close by – no gurgling in my innards yet.

 I pondered Kristen’s advice until they announced overhead the two passengers were Miami bound and connecting flight were located for them.

The roaring rumbling of engines diminishes. Some people stand and stretch.

Over and over again in my head one mantra kept me relatively calm -God has a plan for me. God has a plan for me.

Then it happened, that crazy thing I can laugh about now…I estimated the large amount of trip charges on my VISA and freaked out.

 They would be hanging out there if my flight home was to be my last hours on planet earth. It had to be taken care of. I didn’t want my daughter having to forage around my house to find my password and deal with a giant VISA bill (When I see her, we go big. Mama’s worn out nursing feet demand Uber. The kid picks amazing $$$ restaurants for dining.)

I lurched sideways and scrunched up until I could get my hand down to my purse on the floor and retrieved my phone. Recalling old announcements for people to turn off computers until lift off, I tapped fast. I don’t want my cell phone interfering with the plane’s function! Capital One – Yep – okay – not too bad. On to my trusty bank. Account. Pay bill. Confirm amount. Send.

I feel much better already.

The engines start up and we roll back out to try again.

First flight I didn’t fall asleep on.

 

Sometimes “Fine” is not fine.

Here’s that post I mentioned would follow:

I think people say “You’ll be fine” for one of three reasons; they don’t know what to say, they don’t care and want to end the conversation, or they have a self- centered focus of such intensity that they believe these mere words coming out their mouths is all you need to hear.

Now, I know there are exceptions to this — the calculus teacher looking at the test you just turned in —he has the test key — the neighbor who watched you knock over a sprinkler head — he has a spare in his garage.

That’s not the stuff I’m talking about.

I’m talking about the fears and anxieties we have when a family member learns of abnormal biopsy results, when the sole bread winner in a household gets laid off, when a fight between couples results in one walking out.

You get the picture.

There is no guarantee.

And it is never more important to understand this than in medicine.

It’s not an exact science, and it never will be.

So, if you care about someone who’s going a trial with their health or is preparing for surgery, do this:

Just listen.

Don’t interrupt.

Just listen.

It’s usually all they need.

 

 

Waa Waa Waa

If you’re going to have a  pity party and my attendance is mandatory, you just have to acknowledge that that’s what it is, and I will comply because see, I have hosted a few myself. I will nod my head in affirmation, give a few “uh huh’s”, and make sure there are plenty of your favorite foods present. It’s your party and you shouldn’t be eating the crummy leftovers.

Go for the foods that trigger elevations in your serotonin level – a quick fix — I’d recommend a bacon cheeseburger on a whole wheat bun with a thin slice of avocado for flair. You got your carbohydrate, your protein, and your healthy fat in that juicy burger. Invite friends that have an appetite as healthy as yours, no real skinny people allowed.

There is natural OxyContin, the kind released from the brain when we are feeling loved, so… no solo pity partying is advised. Talk to a friend.You are also too vulnerable to be hitting the alcohol. Alcohol’s positive effects are so short — the nausea, headache, and valley of depression the next day aren’t worth it.

And finally,

When you hang the “Poor Me” balloons, hang them low. It helps to accentuate the absurdity of the event. I’d help you blow them up but I’ve been a little short of breath lately. Go with a black color scheme. When you wake up the next day and realize it’s not all that bad, the black will shame you into getting up even faster and getting on with the day.