New life

Before I started working at my current job, I was asked what type of laptop I preferred.  When I arrived at my desk on the sixth day – the first five were spent traveling to Athens, Georgia, in the US, a lovely little MacBook Air waited for me on my desk, fully installed and configured and ready to go.  This was a good start.

Things have gone downhill since then.  I still have the AirBook, but IT is getting increasingly antagonistic about it.  My computer wouldn't be replaced with something comparable.  All new computers are plastic Dells.  I’m one of a handful of hold-outs that still hang on to their ageing AirBooks.  Mine is five-and-a-half years old now.  It’s running just fine and does everything it needs to do, but it’s battery has deteriorated so much that I hardly get through an online meeting without needing to recharge.  The other day, on a video call with Chinese partners, my computer ran out of juice and turned itself off.

It feels a bit as if my poor computer were in the same situation as me, gravely ill with no way out.  At least I have professionals looking after me.  Tomorrow I’ll go to the hospital for the sixth chemo session.  Everything still appears just fine.  I’m getting more and more used to the fasting regime.  Overall I feel more affected by the therapy than the first time around, but I take this as a sign that the therapy is effective.  I’ve been mildly unwell but stable.  The first time around, I had quite a few episodes where I suffered greatly.  A couple of times I had to go check myself into the hospital out of schedule.  This time around, I’ve been able to enjoy every weekend, the last two hiking high up in the Alps with friends, for example.

All this means nothing.  In the end, only a CT will show whether the fasting and the therapy have had an effect.  It’s so bizarre and so hard to believe that the two options are a new life and the end of my life, and that I can do nothing about it.  Halfway through another four days of fasting, I can tell you that I do quite a few things, though whether these things do anything about the cancer, I can’t say.  And so it is that I can’t do anything that is certain to have a positive effect.

I can do something about my little computer.  Apple promises to replace batteries even in old laptops.  I spent some time on their support website but left none the wiser.  While the layout is simple and the icons are clear, what happens when you click them is rather frustrating.  I could find no information on how much a battery replacement would cost nor how to schedule this intervention at the Apple store in Zurich.

Fifteen tiny screws later, the computer was running like new.

Would I want to go to Zurich for this anyway?  I wouldn’t.  Instead, I ordered a new battery at a wonderful little online merchant, received it a day later in a package that also included the two screwdrivers it takes to remove the 15 screws that hold the back cover of the computer and the battery in place.  Swapping the battery took less time than I had earlier spent navigating the Apple support website.  My AirBook is now good for another five years – or until IT decides to let me retire it with an adequate replacement.  The question remains how long I will survive.