Portland or Bust!

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

— Part One —
Since Patti and I had planned this trip to Portland months before my illness, to celebrate the 38th birthday of our youngest child by attending the Portland Jazz Festival, I was determined to make it happen. Justin and I are both drummers/percussionists and avid jazz fans, so this was a perfect gift for each of us. Airline tickets had been arranged through the use of Frequent Flyer Miles, which we didn't want to lose, and the music and good vibes of the PDX Festival were certain to have a positive healing effect. An upgraded room in the historic Heathman Hotel immediately adjacent to the main venue for the festival had also been booked.

We arrived at Anchorage International Airport at about 11:00pm for my "redeye" flight to Seattle and beyond. Things went smoothly at check-in, and they had a wheelchair awaiting, as requested.

After a thorough pat down by a very pleasant TSA agent, Patti pushed me to my gate. She was also allowed to board the aircraft to help get me situated in my seat and make sure that my oxygen was flowing properly. A very rude, impatient airline employee barked at Patti that she had to de-plane within seconds of me sitting down, the only negative encounter of the entire trip.

Before the majority of passengers had even boarded the plane, a flight attendant approached me and said that she would assist me in any way I needed during the flight. She informed me that she had just completed training regarding portable oxygen devices on aircraft, but was unfamiliar with my particular machine, so asked for some particulars. I showed her the controls and described the process for changing batteries, which she offered to assist with if needed.

Just after reaching cruising altitude, I asked for some water which I promptly spilled all over my lap and into the depression of my seat. My two fellow passengers and a flight attendant came to my rescue, getting some paper towels and helping to soak up as much water as possible. This was not a good start to my trip, but things smoothed out nicely as I had a bite to eat and closely monitored R2 O₂ for battery life, making adjustments in air flow to help compensate for higher altitudes.

The flight crew on my Alaska Airlines flight to Seattle could not have been nicer or more helpful, even assisting with a battery change prior to arriving at SeaTac. They also made certain that there was a wheelchair to meet me at the jetway and take me to the gate for my Horizon Air commuter flight to Portland. This flight crew was not only extremely professional and pleasant, they were genuinely concerned with my well-being. My hat is off to them, and I made sure they knew how appreciative I was of their kindness and personal attention as we parted.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

— Part Two —
I was wheeled to my new gate by a very gentle, soft-spoken young man from Ethiopia ... Ahmad (remember his name for future reference).

Ahmad turned me over to an absolutely incredible Alaska Airlines flight line crew who specialize in handling situations such as mine. First, I met Marlene, a very special lady who told me that she would soon place me in the hands of Joe, "the best in the business!"

She didn't overstate Joe's credentials. They were both incredibly caring and determined, with Joe delivering me right to my seat on the Horizon Air commuter jet while Marlene helped guide Joe — all the while carrying my rather hefty carry on luggage. Alaska Airlines has many remarkably sensitive employees, but these two are very special in my experience.

I had a pretty uneventful flight to Portland, chatting with a very bright high school student named Makayla, who was headed to a Tai Kwon Do tournament in Las Vegas.

Upon arrival in Portland I was met with a wheelchair by a man who simply called himself "Brown" who had worked at PDX for 18 years and who happily announced that he was retiring in 2 months. After a silly mixup with TSA (long story involving "Brown") centered around a dinky Swiss Army knife and wine cork puller in my checked luggage (which I was able to explain and rectify), I was taken to the spacious, newly completed Alaska Airlines Board Room to wait for Justin to arrive from California. I had called Alaska Airlines days earlier and explained my medical situation and the difference in flight arrival times of me and Justin. I didn't want to sit in the baggage claim area or main concourse for 3 hours awaiting Justin's flight. I also needed a place to plug in R2O₂ and charge its batteries.

We had received a complimentary one day pass to Alaska Airlines Board Room which Patti and I couldn't locate, but Carolyn, an administrator in Seattle, kindly added me to their guest list without hesitation. This allowed me to relax, have some breakfast and plug in my oxygen machine in a very comfortable setting for me to wait for Justin's arrival. The concierge and staff were extremely helpful and gracious — providing a perfect early morning experience. This was the beginning of what became a wonderful daily feeling of being embraced by a city ... the lovely city of Portland, Oregon.

When Justin appeared in the Board Room, everything seemed to be clicking just the way I had hoped for this special weekend in Portland. It was still quite early in the morning, so we hung around for another hour or so and enjoyed some coffee, bagels and juice together before asking the concierge to request a wheelchair for me.

A very friendly, feisty veteran of PDX named Donna appeared to take us to get our luggage and purchase tickets for our trip via TriMet's MAX Red Line (light rail) into downtown Portland. We got off at Pioneer Square, only a few blocks from our hotel and headed straight for Nordstrom, mere steps away, where I promptly took advantage of their upscale men's room facilities.

Jumping Through Hoops

Monday, February 9, 2009

My doctor released me from the hospital on the condition that I receive 24-hour oxygen due to my recent bout of pneumonia and history of bronchitis. My wife and I were delighted to learn that we could get set up with a portable oxygen concentrator, a state-of-the-art device which is portable and rated for use on aircraft. We were even more delighted to learn that Medicare would cover the cost of this very expensive device ... and through a local provider. This machine, the SeQual Eclipse 2, was affectionately dubbed R2O₂ because of its appearance, and operates on AC, DC and battery.

Before flying to Portland, however, we needed to prove to the airlines that I had sufficient batteries for the length of my flights, based upon my specific oxygen flow rate requirements. So, Patti initiated a phone call to Alaska Airlines to determine what their policy was with respect to portable oxygen devices onboard their aircraft. She also arranged for a wheelchair to meet me at each airport, since I was changing planes in Seattle for a commuter flight to Portland.

After speaking with a specialist at Alaska Airlines, it was suggested that I might need as many as five (5) batteries, based upon the (incorrect) information they had received regarding my oxygen needs. Bear in mind that each of these batteries weigh about 4 lbs. and cost nearly $400.00 each. The additional weight I might be forced to lug around was almost as daunting as the $1600.00 loan we might need if they persisted with this unnecessary requirement. Based upon calculations from a table provided by the maker of my oxygen concentrator, we were certain that one (1) extra battery would be sufficient. After phoning Alaska Airlines again, we managed to convince them of my true flow rate needs which reduced the number of extra batteries to one (1), as originally thought.

Patti was then informed that we would need to speak with MedAir, a firm which handles and approves such requests on behalf of the airline. After paying a screening fee and providing my doctor's name, my date of birth, current medical condition, etc., they faxed a form to my doctor for his signature. We then picked up this all-important form to provide proper medical proof to Alaska Airlines at the time of my flight from Anchorage and all future flights. Without this form — no trip, and no Portland Jazz Festival.

We had no idea that we'd be jumping through so many hoops, and within such a short (3 day) time frame, immediately before my scheduled trip to Portland.

An Unexpected Journey

Friday, February 4, 2009 (Written from my hospital bed)

Patti (my wife) and I have been on an intense, unexpected journey for the past few days ... a very complex and life-changing one.

Patti had fought a very nasty cold for 3 weeks, one I seriously wanted to avoid, for many reasons, including my planned trip next Wednesday to meet son Justin in Portland to celebrate his 38th birthday and attend the first weekend of the Portland Jazz Festival.

Last Friday, I noticed what seemed like typical flu symptoms invading me, and since I had neglected to get my annual flu shot, thought ... aha!

For the next two nights I pounded down vitamins, etc. to fight it, but wasn't sleeping well. Then, Sunday night I had a terrific night's sleep and enjoyed Monday as if I were winning a short war waged against a bad cold or the flu. Wrong! Monday was probably the worst night of my life, not being able to sleep for 13 straight hours. Things got even worse, and now some skin lesions appeared out-of-the-blue.

Late Wednesday afternoon, a physician we visited urged us to head to the Emergency Room for a deeper evaluation, which we did.

Bottom line: Pneumonia, shingles and extreme shortness of breath, from past years of smoking, made far worse by this Pneumonia.

I've been in the hospital since 5:30 that night with 24-hour oxygen, antibiotics, antivirals, and a new inhaler system. This is the first time that I've been hospitalized since I was an infant. I'm much improved now and expect to be discharged sometime tomorrow.

The Portland trip is still on, with portable oxygen added to the "baggage".

Patti and a health care provider named Kathy probably saved my life two days ago. I am humbled, and will be forever grateful.

(Continued February 7, 2009)

The care and compassion I received while hospitalized was truly remarkable, and the food was considerably beyond tolerable ... considering.

Patti and I are still reeling from the positivity we experienced from the entire staff at Providence Alaska Medical Center, just five minutes from our home. We've driven by it for over 20 years, and now it has a whole new significance. If I could single out two people among my many favorites, one of them would be my ER Physician, Dr. Hanley (no photo, unfortunately), who wished me well to continue healing, and to enjoy the Jazz Festival in Portland as I was wheeled upstairs to my room. Also, my final nurse, Nan, a free spirit, originally from St. Paul, Minnesota, who locked-in to Patti and me within seconds of her 1st visit, and was with us until my wheelchair went down the hallway when I was discharged. She's an extraordinary lady — an artist/illustrator, liberal thinker, activist and health care provider for over 25 years.

Now, on to Portland, Oregon, the hometown of one of my soulmates, Jim Pepper.

"... makes me feel glad that I'm not dead"
(from Witchi Tai To)