Airplane small talk leads to words I needed to hear

I have three more hours until I land in Toronto and connect home. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things on this flight: my mom’s health, my magical month away, pastel de nata, the ocean, fado music, why some people are so annoying on planes, garlic toast. I’ve been chatting with My Friend (The Editor) a bit as the readership for my blog has spiked lately as people find me.

Anyway, I’m here to tell you what’s on my mind right at this moment.

I don’t hate many things in this world but making conversation with people while I’m trapped on a plane is one of them. I’m the woman who smiles politely at you when I sit down, says hello and then puts headphones on, whether I’m listening to anything or not. While I’m an open book with my blog and so much of my life, my line is talking to strangers on planes. I’m sure you’re lovely but please: Ssshhhh!

It’s pretty funny to think I got paid to talk to strangers on airplanes for a year.

I digress….

Here’s where the universe laughed at my “rule” on this trip. 

On my flight from Edmonton to Toronto, I settled into my chosen aisle seat, smiled and said hello to the young girl beside me and proceeded to unplug. The only time we exchanged words was when I made sure the flight attendants asked if she wanted anything to drink (they missed her) and as we were disembarking when I firmly stepped into the aisle and cut off rude people pushing to get off, ensuring she was able to step out into the aisle. I reached for her carry-on for her and then off she went. As I got off the plane, she stopped, turned around and said to me, “You’re absolutely adorable.” She then spun around on her kicks and walked briskly up the jetway and out of sight. 

Now I’ve been called many things from younger people — “ma’am” being the most prevalent — so you can imagine that “absolutely adorable" caught me offguard in a very good way.

So, OK universe, there's my interaction with a stranger. Duty done. 

Oh, WTF! Hold my beer.

On my flight from Toronto to Lisbon, just before the doors closed, a beautiful young lady in her 30s slid into the seat next to mine. She was a bit frantic from being late. Again. an exchange of hellos but this one was ready to talk. And I don’t know why but I was, as well. We exchanged reasons for travelling, bits of life history — far more than I have ever exchanged with anyone on an aircraft, including some of my fellow flight attendants.

After a <cough, cough> 'gourmet' airline meal, we both proceeded to try and get some sleep.

About an hour before landing, as the people on the plane started stretching and waking up, we found ourselves in conversation. It started innocently enough. She had told me she worked shift work prior to our nap and now I followed up and asked her what she did. She hesitated a beat and then said she worked in the emergency department of a hospital. I looked at her with surprise because we had exchanged relationship statuses and, when my response was widowed, she offered condolences, asked if it was sudden and, when I said yes, she asked not a lot more.

Her working in an emergency department caught me offguard. I told her I had the utmost respect for emergency department nurses and doctors. And then I asked what made her choose to be an emergency department nurse. She softly replied she was an emergency department doctor. 

I had no words, only eyes that wanted to spill tears. I thanked her for her service and told her about my experience with the emergency department doctor the night My Favourite Husband (MFH) died and how his heart must have hurt while he was saying the words that broke mine. 

We talked about delivering devastating news to loved ones and then the conversation morphed. She kindly told me that MFH’s heart attack was not uncommon since he was in organ failure and, when one organ fails and comorbitities exist, other organs may be damaged as well. This was surprising to me because, in all the discussions we had with the nephrology doctors and nurses, the conversations were about stability for transplant and not other potential complications. 

She then went on to talk about her pioneering work as a palliative care doctor in addition to her emergency department work. She and a few other doctors in her province were pushing to be introduced as part of the team of treatment professionals introduced to patients who were going through potentially life-ending health issues. The introduction of palliative care doctors (and palliative care conversations) is becoming more common with cancer patients but not with other patients. She asked if we had a team of professionals prior to MFH beginning dialysis and during his treatments. I replied yes but that team did not have a palliative care doctor. She made her point — eloquently, firmly, kindly — that whether ending one’s life was a choice (discontinuing treatment) or a circumstance like MFH  — the possibility of what could happen — the introduction of the the subject of palliative care at the start of the journey would be less of a shock to patients and families and give them opportunities to ask questions and consider options they might wish to talk about along the way.

I wholeheartedly agreed with her. 

Our conversation opened my eyes to so many things and, on that day, on that flight, I was meant to connect with that angel of mercy. We never exchanged names or numbers. It was an interlude only for that moment in time.

I’m now on a flight where my seat mates have chosen to watch movies which is perfectly fine with me. 

Having said that, I will now be more open to conversations on airplanes going forward because sometimes they are words meant for me to hear.

❤️