I've been on the road for a few weeks, traveling around the country to meet with doctors, patients, advocacy groups and community centers.  My travels have taken me to Denver, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Sacramento and, later this week, Orlando.

It wasn't easy packing for two-and-a-half weeks, especially since I only own (apparently) 12 pairs of underwear (I recently over-purged that drawer).  So now I'm left looking for a laundro-mat in Nobb Hill, San Francisco.  Weird, but true.

What's weirder is that, despite all the travel, I'm not in any great discomfort.  Usually when I sleep away or travel for more than three days I begin to feel the wear-and-tear in my body (from the bad pillows to the nasty spring mattresses).  I've done a decent job eating (sort of) healthy food, working out (on occasion ... yeah, right) and getting as much sleep as possible.

So while we're "holding hands with America," I am conscious to put my health first, wash my hands often, stretch at every opportunity, and not eat crap.  Sounds like the making of a travel book ...

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Last night I got to meet Jerry Stiller, who definitely resides on my list of all-time favorites.

We only met for a few minutes -- enough time to talk about the show we just saw, where we’re living now and how things are going.  What struck me about meeting him was how many times he kept saying, "Just stay healthy."  It was all I could think about as I walked away -- and into this morning as I woke up.

"Just stay healthy."  As if to say that no matter how much fame and fortune you amass, no matter how much your life is a dream come true, when you lose your health ... everything slips between your fingers.  And coming from Frank Costanza, that resonated with me.

When you have arthritis, you can appreciate the subtle upward and downward ticks that life takes, whether it’s on a morning when you wake up in worse pain than when you went to sleep, or after chaperoning a 6 year-old Gymboree birthday party.

"Just stay healthy" is officially the best -- albeit hardest -- advice I’ve ever gotten.

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The last few weeks have been especially rough.  There was one day, in particular, during which the world seemed to be closing in on me:  I couldn't get from point A to B without above average amounts of pain.  I couldn't open jars, write for more than a few minutes at a time, or lock my finicky door.

It certainly doesn't help that the locksmith who installed the lock on my door must have been an ex-convict because he jerry-rigged this thing to be so difficult to lock/unlock that it takes five minutes every time to get the damn key to work.  I guess it's better to be safe then sorry ...

That said, I wasn't going to allow a little bit (OK, a lot) of pain stand in the way of an overbooked social schedule, with parties, dinners and celebrations to attend every day of the week.  The world kicked back into overdrive after the lull of the holidays.

As the week progressed, my limp became more pronounced.  By Friday I was outside of a club, approaching the doorman, and he said, "A man with swagger like that must be important."  It made my day!  I smiled and thanked him, and proceeded downstairs (slowly) but felt as though my pain was not for nothing after a shout out from a giant bouncer like that.

There are worse things in this world, I suppose.

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My friend Yoni, the dentist, gave me very valuable advice the other day.

He said that two weeks before I see my dentist, I should floss every day.  This essentially reverses the entire year of not flossing -- and makes the dentist think that I am.

Brilliant!

It made me wonder, Is there something equivalent I can do for my rheumatologist?

I saw him (the rheumatologist) the other day, and I got to thinking about all of the visits I've had over 15 years.

There are the good days and bad days, the ups and downs.  Some days I felt great the day I saw him, others I felt terrible.

I wish there were something I could do two weeks leading up to the visit to paint a prettier picture. Or perhaps the opposite -- to have a really bad day so he sees what they're like, firsthand, instead of listening to me try to explain what it's like.

Either way, I'm six days into the flossing.  Eight days to go!

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In a snow emergency, you'll find one thing in New York City:  some tough cookie seniors walking around.

Last week, New York City (where I live) got dumped with a TON of snow.  It doesn't happen very often, but when it snows ... it snows heavily.  A few hours after the storm obliterated the city (turning it into a serene, pretty and QUIET place), I laced up my boots, zipped up my jacket and journeyed out into the polar ice cap to investigate the damage.

I was amazed to see one thing in particular:  white snow.  (Usually it's yellow or black by the time I get to it.)  I was also amazed to see the number of senior citizens -- we're talking really old people -- going about their day with their coming and going.  That takes a lot of nerve, in my opinion, and it's reason #529 that New Yorkers are tough cookies.

Here I was, nervous that I'd fall on my butt or take an embarrassing spill trying to cross the street -- and yet these 70-to-80-year-olds were trekking through the snow complete with a D'Agastino plastic shopping bag covering their frosted hair.

I thought to myself no wonder most people their age go to Florida in the winter and then reflected on just how many people didn't and who, instead, braved the elements to get to the store or the restaurant or anywhere else they were going.

How they do it is a mystery to me.  But the fact that they're still up and at it really inspired me.  I should only be that stubborn (and foolish?) when I'm that age!

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