With the slow post-pandemic increase in face-to-face meetings and conventions, the easing of travel health & safety restrictions/concerns, and the overall stability of my well-being in general and relative to my ability to manage having Covid, I find myself back on the road again for work-related voyages. So far my trips are limited to domestic destinations, and I will be flying with a mask on the whole time (the whole time!?, the whole time!?!?! - yes, Sally Field - the whole time). But what is the overall toll on my cancery body going to be?
I've often said that business travel is the hardest nothing you'll ever do. And that claim doesn't really resonate until you've actually done it yourself - - - a lot. There is a certain kind of incalculable energy that is expended managing: the waiting along various transportation stages, the worrying if human or natural factors will delay/derail your travel, and the wondering if you'll actually make it there on time. And none of that even takes into account the work to be done once you do finally make it to your business-driven destination. Sweetheart - it's no vacation.
But the subtitle of this treatise is not: "Woe is me." Oh contraire mon frere. I am pleased to report that I successfully schlepped my cancer-ridden body to a Convention gig - and am 2/3 of the way through the assignment. Yes, I still need to prevail through the process of the return pilgrimage, but Homebound is always easier (or at least waaaay less urgent) than Showbound. And overall I'm feeling in fairly fine fettle.
So I may not be cured, but I'm fit enough to fly and well enough to work. If 89-year-old Willie Nelson can do it - I got no excuses.
