I think Erica Jong was talking about something else.

I’m heading off to Florida early in the morning with my family, so I’m spending the night at my parents’ house, listening to them pack their suitcases. It sounds a little like this:

“Which suitcase has the fruit rollups?!”

“Dress shoes…casual shoes…sneakers…sandals…socks…”

“Look, I can fit six of these in this pouch! I NEVER knew I had a pouch!”

“…contact lenses…contact solution…glasses…”

“We’ll have to go to the dollar store and buy a plastic spray bottle.”

“Tommy Bahama shirt…dress shirt…t-shirt…”

“I’m bringing a Hawaiian shirt too!”

I should mention I hate flying, so I try to pack as quickly as possible to avoid having to dwell on my impending doom. It is irrational – planes are safer than cars, blah blah blah – but it doesn’t stop me from having nightmares the week before I fly. This is no secret fear. A few days before I fly, I start interrupting random conversations (say, in the middle of ordering office supplies) to inform my coworkers how much I hate flying. They just roll their eyes and tell me yes, they know, now can we get those binder clips?

In fact, I actually wrote an essay, published in New Jersey Monthly Magazine, about learning to fly a small plane to get over my fear of flying. I’ll never forget the instructor saying, “Nancy, now we’re going to simulate engine failure.” By the time I started protesting, saying that we could face that particular horror next time, he had already shut off the airplane and we were floating high above central New Jersey, a silent speck in the sky.

I survived – and learned that small planes can actually ride air currents and land without engines. So now I’m totally over my fear of small planes, and have become completely bitter that their larger brethren can’t float. I guess the lessons worked, but maybe not the way I hoped.

When I was packing for this trip last night, I stopped and considered bringing my “Treatment Pillow.” This is what it looks like:

It’s what I use during my monthly infusions (well, weekly, these past few months), so I can snooze comfortably while I’m getting treatment. And then I looked at what the case that holds it says it’s called: Inflatable Travel U-Pillow.

It’s funny, because I’ve used it so many times this year, and not once for travel.

When I realized that, it altered my perception of my fear of flying. Why keep such a positive attitude about my very real and sometimes scary hematological disorder – and not do the same thing for my irrational fear?

So I brought my Treatment Pillow, but this week I’m calling it my Travel Pillow. And it will keep me just as comfortable as it always does.

(Also, have I mentioned that I hate flying? Yes? Ok, I’ll get you those binder clips now.)