I have been a process consultant and teacher for 32 years. I've been a cancer survivor for three. Last weekend the two intersected in an awkward way.
As you might imagine, most of my work with clients is on location—I travel to be with the group, anywhere in North America. For most of my life that's worked fine. I like traveling, I eat anything, and I could sleep restfully in a wide variety of conditions.
As I've aged, I have gradually became more picky about room accommodations but it has hardly ever been a problem. That reality was seriously challenged, however, when I started experiencing serious back pain in late 2014, which ultimately led to the discovery of cancer (multiple myeloma) in January 2016. No more Mr. Indestructible. I went 28 years as a consultant without canceling a single job due to illness, but my iron man streak ended dramatically when I couldn't get out of bed for a month, nearly died, and it took months of treatment to recover as I battled cancer and its side effects. That was sobering.
Eventually I was able to return to my career (albeit cautiously at first) in September 2016 following a stem cell transplant at Mayo Clinic, and I have more or less been regaining strength, stamina, and flexibility ever since—all of which is a good story. These days I do not book more than 1-2 jobs a month and allow plenty of time to recover between jobs. I also have a policy of not departing for a trip if I am feeling sick (note, however, that this is not the same a guaranteeing that I will arrive well, as this story points out).
While I thought I was being prudent. Maybe not so much.
You see, I still have cancer. While it's being contained by a carefully chosen chemotherapy protocol that I tolerate well, I am not cured. There are changes to my constitution that I sometimes fail to take properly into account.
• My back is permanently weakened (I have three fractured vertebrae) and should no longer lift more than 25 pounds (I'll never build another cistern).
• I am prone to edema and need to remember to get up regularly and move around to minimize swollen ankles (how many hours should anyone sit in front of a computer screen anyway?).
• The weakest system in my body is my lungs. Whenever I catch a cold, it takes me weeks to shake the cough. Last winter I was twice briefly hospitalized to get professional help shaking respiratory distress: pneumonia and RSV.
This last point became poignantly apparent a week ago when I was traveling to Vancouver BC to consult with a cohousing group. It took two-and-a-half days to arrive by train, and I noticed I was developing a cough as I arrived. Uh oh. The truth is, I'm immune compromised, and am now more susceptible to catching whatever is in the air around me, and traveling puts me at risk. If I'm going to continue to work as a consultant (which I am) it goes with the territory.
When I awoke Friday (after arriving on site exhausted at 1:30 am the night before) my energy was still pretty good and I was able to connect right away with the other two members of my team (whew). We mapped out who would do what and scheduled a relatively easy opening session for Friday night—our first plenary. My energy continued to be good enough to run a meeting with local facilitators that afternoon, and I presented a summary of findings (based on 15 hours of phone interviews with group members) during the plenary. Otherwise I turned matters over to my colleagues, and was very happy to collapse into bed right after the plenary ended. I was going downhill.
I awoke Saturday morning feeling worse. Despite that I felt compelled to answer the bell. We had a key moment queued for the first thing where we would work an example of a stuck conflict in the group and it was important that I take the lead on that. My team had hired us, in part, expressly because they believed I could successfully handle this dynamic and I didn't want to let them down.
I did the work, and it went well. I stayed to oversee the group's reflections on what happened, and then, on the mid-morning break, I went back to bed and turned everything over to my teammates. I simply couldn't do any more.
I slept for 22 hours, and felt somewhat better Sunday morning. Though weak (I hadn't been eating solid food) I jumped back in. Fortunately the work with the client proceeded well without me so we were in good shape (thank the goddess for competent teammates!). People were happy to have me back and I was able to be present and contributing the full time Sunday (seven-and-a-half hours).
Members of the client group who were sitting near me kept coming up to me on break to tell me how amazed they were that I was functioning so well (given how poorly I looked and sounded). I thought they were being overly solicitous until 5 pm hit, we closed the weekend, and I completely ran out of gas. I had no idea how much I had been running on fumes, elevating my energy to meet the needs of the moment. I was one sick puppy.
Again I went gratefully to bed and didn't arise until 5:30 am, when it was time to be driven to the Canadian Pacific Depot and the start of my trip home. Traveling puts extra strain on me in that I have to schlep my luggage everywhere, plus I learned that my train home from Seattle was cancelled that day due to heavy snowfall in the Midwest, so I had cope with that logistical curve ball. That meant buying a last-minute plane ticket, and negotiating the following transportation legs:
—car to the train station in Vancouver
—light rail from King St Station in Seattle to SeaTac
—internal light rail at the airport
—one gate change at the airport necessitating that I redo the light rail to get to a different terminal
—flight from SEA to MSP
—van from MSP to Duluth
—car ride home
All of this took 20 hours and it was all I could do to climb the stairs, brush my teeth, and drop into bed when I arrived home at 3:30 am local time.
After listening to me wheeze at home for a day, Susan gently (though firmly) recommended that I call my primary care physician and get looked at. When I went in Wed it didn't take them long to determine that I might be fairly sick and was admitted to the hospital. Within a couple hours, tests revealed that I'd hit the daily double: I had both pneumonia and influenza A. Yeehah! That diagnosis got me promptly promoted to my own room, and they got me started on a course of tamiflu, an antiviral.
Before going to bed that night I sent an email to the client and my teammates, warning them of what exposure to me might mean, and then I drifted off.
Fortunately I bounce back well and I expect to be released from the hospital today, or tomorrow at the latest.
This is a damn good thing, because Susan and I have a major two-week vacation queued up starting next Tuesday where we'll visit Sarasota Fl, Clearwater FL, Mobile AL, and New Orleans—something we've been pointing toward for months, and I need to be well enough to make that trip. This turns out to be brilliantly timed after setting an all-time record for snowfall in Duluth for the month of February, and I do not want a lingering cough to monkey wrench our plans.
I tell you, this getting older stuff is not for sissies.
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