For ten years I rode Amtrak or drove to our new city. If we had a convention in Las Vegas, Reno, Tahoe, we drove. Then Marty's mother died and I couldn't make myself get on a plane and go to the funeral. I was a failure at supporting my husband at one of the worst times of his life.
I knew I had to do something and went into group counseling for people with phobias. They told us they couldn't cure us, but would teach us how to live with our fears. Then came the big test.
CHEVRON had a convention not on Amtrak or drivable. It was in Hawaii. I had to fly over the ocean. And I did it with good drugs. Of course the whole time we were there I worried about flying back home. I found out later there were all kinds of bets down on whether I would get on the plane or not. The people betting I would fly made good money.
So since then I have flown on a need to basis. Still hate it. The trips this summer were not as awful. I balanced cancer/plane crash. One or the other was going to get me. I might as well hope cancer and go see friends and family.
Now I am sure there are folks out there who still doubt I flew. They might think we drove or went on Amtrak. So a little proof of my flying is below.
Coming into Chicago over Lake Michigan
So yes I really did fly. A little valium, a little calming music, some prayers, and strong hand holding by Marty.