Getting locked out of my house leads to a wonderful medication revelation

I locked myself out of my house yesterday.

I had been on a lovely walk with two friends. We drove to the beach where there’s a beautiful boardwalk that hugs the shore, meandering through marshes and looking out over huge sand bars and flocks of nesting feathered waterfowl.

The plan was to come back to my house before they got back in the car to drive south an hour (give or take depending on traffic). So, given my always troublesome back, I decided to lighten my bag, leaving my keys and other miscellaneous nonessentials between the seats of friend No. 1’s car.

It was a perfect, tranquil stroll.

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No key, no admittance

On the way back, instead of stopping at my house, we drove past my sweet Victorian-era neighborhood for a nice “lady’s lunch” near the harbor. We talked, ate, enjoyed each other’s company and spent a leisurely early afternoon before my friends needed to get on the road.

I said: “You know what? It’s a beautiful sunny day. I’m going to walk home.” So I did. The end to a rare few hours that seemed lazy and well-earned all around.

I took the scenic walk home, relaxed and pleased with myself. At my front door, it hit me. My keys were speeding down U.S. 95 and I didn’t have a spare. I had taken my time. My friends had not. They had places to be. And there was no time to turn back.

Fortunately for me, I am just a few blocks from the train station, and there was a train leaving in nine minutes that would get me to the same station where friend No. 2’s husband would be arriving from the opposite direction. He drove me to their house, where my keys patiently waited on the kitchen counter.

So, this friend is not just any friend. She’s my oldest, dearest friend from college days. I often call her my “sister-friend.” It’s a term of endearment recognizing that family often holds a unique place in our hearts and lives. We can disagree. We can be honest. We can laugh. We can cry. Always there is a special bond of love.

Unexpected preplanning

And as usual in these columns, here’s the myelofibrosis connection, which honestly is a good lesson for all of us “of a certain age” or with any known health conditions.

I could have hopped on the next train to get home. There was food left out on my table and open windows to let the breeze flow through the first floor — not the best scenario for an empty house. But because it is both of our natures, spontaneity nearly always wins.

The sun was brilliant. The dog was happy to see me. The wine cooler was filled with some favorites. What else did my friend and I need to make the most of an unexpected evening together just hanging out with no plans? Takeout Chinese food. Perfect!

I kept my eyes (loosely) on the proverbial clock. The comfy bed upstairs was free. I was always welcome to stay the night, but I didn’t have my medications, some of which are needed for safe prophylaxis, such as anticoagulants to prevent another dangerous blood clot. Others, like my Jakafi (ruxolitinib), aren’t supposed to be stopped suddenly. So, while I knew one night wouldn’t kill me, literally or figuratively, it was the prudent thing to catch a late train.

Enter the unexpected preplanning of a not-so-typical planner.

There was a time last year when I spent more nights than not on that firm guest mattress with a spine-friendly pillow topper. And, though I didn’t remember as the clock approached 10 p.m., in the bathroom drawer I had kept a few things for the now-occasional visit. I opened the drawer and there it was — a small bottle I immediately recognized. And in it, one of each of my evening and morning pills.

Would I have chosen to stay anyway? Possibly. But I may not have slept well, and I certainly would have been in more of a hurry to get home. Instead, we stayed up late; I got a good night’s sleep, and I had a fresh frothy java waiting for me for my ride to the train station.

I’m home now. The sun is shining. The food has been put away. The windows are still open to the salt air. And, most importantly, a little bottle of my daily pills is permanently tucked into my wallet.

You can do the same now, so you don’t forget. Especially if you don’t live two blocks from a train station, in case your house and car keys are ever locked up until rescued. Besides, you just never know!

Note: Myelofibrosis News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Myelofibrosis News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to myelofibrosis.