“This is why I don’t leave the house unless I know who I am going to be around,” I thought as I reached for a tissue in the airport bathroom. “This runny nose has ruined my last mask. I had everything under control until we got stranded in this airport in Charlotte.”

I shocked myself when I decided to speak on two panels at the AWP conference (association of writers & writing programs) in Kansas City. But, I was invited to talk about “a turn of the page: from journalism to creative writing” and “ableism on and off the page.” I thought, “I can’t hide away forever. I’ve got to try to get back out despite my chronic issues. I’ll just do these two panels and leave. In and out safely.”

I also accepted because my god daughters live there and I hadn’t seen them in two years. I’d convinced myself I’d my mask up everywhere except for around people I know who are healthy.

“Damn it,” I muttered. “I thought I was doing well. My mind and body are always on two different pages. I don’t want to become David “the bubble boy” Vetter; stuck I’m the house because other people make me sick.”

By the time we got back to New Jersey, my nose was raw and my throat was scratchy. “Viruses and bacteria take hold of my system so quickly,” I mumbled. “Thankful, Covid didn’t rear its ugly head.”

I was shuffling around the house, searching for Alka Seltzer cold and sinus meds, when there was a knock at the door. A member of our security team arrived holding a box. Inside, there was another box containing my third NY Emmy award in as many years.

“I’m grateful my autoimmune disease hasn’t impacted my mind,” I thought. “It allows me to still do my job. But, boy, does it do a number on this body.”

“Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from indomitable will.”

Mahatma Gandhi

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