How to Read a Map

Well, sometimes plans change. We didn't fly to San Diego. (If you'd like to know why, check out my author blog for the whole story.) We decided to drive instead.

In many ways, driving is easier than flying if you're using supplemental O2. Herkimer (my Portable Oxygen Concentrator) can be plugged in and I don't have to worry about changing batteries. Plus I don't need him when I'm driving or riding in the van if I'm not at a higher elevation than about 3000 ft.

What I didn't consider is that from Amarillo, Texas to Flagstaff, AZ the route is almost a constant climb, with much of the way above a mile high. Flagstaff itself tops out at over 7000 ft. Even at that elevation, if I use Herkimer, I can maintain a healthy O2 sat while seated, but any sort of activity reduces me to a slug-like state.

This makes me a little sad. I used to be a mountain person. I've lived in Colorado, Wyoming and Utah. Our house in Park City was at 7200 ft and I used to be able to hike in our neighborhood without huffing like an old horse.

But it was lovely to see some snow peaks again, even if I can't be active in them.

Fortunately, it was all downhill from Flagstaff. In fact, once we crossed over from Yuma to California, we actually dipped below sea level! The lowest the route dipped was -53. I actually felt like I was getting an oxygen rush!

Then I-8 starts a rapid ascent to over 4100 ft through the Vallecito Mountains. What an O2 roller coaster!

I did ok and we arrived alive in San Diego. We were careful to overnight in places that were low enough for Morpheus (my bi-pap) to keep me humming through the night. But from now on, when I plot out a route, I'll be sure to check for the little numbers on the map that indicate elevation.

Those are even more important for me than distance from Point A to B.

Me & the Big Apple!

I flew to NYC recently. This was my first flight in over a year. Traveling by air is still possible when you have a chronic lung condition and use supplemental O2 by day and a bi-pap machine by night. But it requires some extra planning.

Before you fly, you must notify your airline that you intend to bring a Portable Oxygen Concentrator on board. O2 cannisters are NOT allowed for safety reasons. If you don't normally use a POC, you can rent one for the duration of your travel. Your carrier will require you to fill out a form detailing the type of device you use and you must have your doctor sign off on whether you are able to travel. It's a good idea to have a copy of your prescription for O2 as well. You must also carry enough back up batteries to cover 1 1/2 times the expected time of travel. 

"Herkimer" (my pet name for my POC) counts as my personal item. He is, for airline purposes, my purse. I keep a slim wallet holding my ID & other cards, my glasses case, pill minder and cellphone in his small pocket. My other essentials had to go in my carry-on. 

Do NOT try to push the envelope beyond the standard 22" X 14" X 9" bag. If you're flying, check on the size of the plane. Some regional jets require passengers to "gate check" their bags. I was able to keep mine with me because I had to have access to spare batteries if I needed them. But I was only allowed to take my rollerboard on because it squeezed into the space under the seat in front of my husband. It would not fit into the overhead bin.

The good news it that my bi-pap (whom I affectionately call "Morpheus") and all his tubes, plugs and headgear fit snugly into the rollerbag with space for my portable oxygen concentrator's extra batteries, cannulas, and plugs as well. The bad news is that only other things I was able to pack in my carry-on was a very small make-up & toiletries kit, a couple pairs of underwear, PJ's and one change of clothing.

If Delta had lost my checked bag, it would have been a l-o-o-o-n-g week.

I was in NYC for the RWA (Romance Writers of America) National Conference, but because I was a late signing up, I was unable to stay in the conference hotel. We were at the W, a hotel around the corner on Times Square.


It's a super trendy, modern hotel. The entrance was flanked by two of these fern-head sculptures and the lobby ceiling was glass with water flowing above it in swirling jets.

Unfortunately, the hotel was undergoing renovations, so I was bucking some pretty serious construction dust at times. The next time I book a hotel room. I will ask if they are doing renovations before I commit to staying there.  Also I needed to be sure I took a deep breath before the super-fast elevator to the 49th floor shot upward. Poor little "Herkimer" shut down as the pressure changed so quickly. Fortunately, he righted himself once I got out of the elevator and started sending me those much needed puffs of O2.

Then a week after we got home, news of the Legionaires outbreak in the Bronx hit the news. I won't lie. I was a little freaked out about it. Of course, I was in the Times Square area most of the time, nowhere near the Bronx. But still...the same conditions with infected cooling towers that led to several deaths might well exist in Manhattan.

But I can't live my life being afraid of every germ out there. I'll never leave the house if I succumb to that. Even though my immune system is compromised, I can't go into hiding. I'm determined to live as normal a life as I can, for as long as I can.

And that means saying yes to adventure whenever it presents itself.  

Traveling with my breathing gear

When I was in high school, my English teacher invited us to write a letter to our older selves. We were encouraged to share our dreams. One of mine was to travel. I wanted to see the world.

Fortunately, I married the Norwegian Hunk who went to work for an airline and we made good use of those "golden handcuffs." That's what travel industry folk call flight benefits. Our kids had passports by the time they were 8 and 6 and we took trips we couldn't have afforded without those special benefits. I've seen a good bit of Europe and Japan, and closer to home, I've visited 49 out of the 50 states. (Look out, Louisiana, I'm coming for you!)

But that was before I had so much mechanical stuff to drag along to support my breathing. I need to pack Herkimer (my portable oxygen concentrator) along with his electrical cords, extra batteries, charger, spare filters, backpack to use instead of the wheeled cart for when I'm expecting uneven ground and extra cannulas, My POC has its own suitcase!

But I still love to travel and it worked out ok last January when the Norwegian Hunk and I decided to celebrate his retirement from Google with a two week Caribbean cruise. We drove from the Midwest down to Tampa to catch the boat, so I wasn't constrained by airline luggage rules.

However, another device has been added to my regimen--a bi-pap machine at night. Evidently I was holding my breath more than 100 times a night. Not good. So I have the company of Herkimer when I'm active by day and I'm attached to "Morpheus" on my bedside table by night.

I hated it at first. It was like drowning in air. But a body can get used to anything they say, and  I can honestly report now that I feel the benefits of the additional therapy. However, Morpheus has its own set of stuff--cords, tubes, distilled water--I need to waggle along when I travel.

Next week, we're planning a trip to Corpus Christi to visit one of my sisters and her family. Since it's a driving trip, I'm not worried about fitting everything in, but in July, we'll be flying to NYC for the RWA National Conference. I'm going to have to do some creative packing for that.

Any suggestions?