What inspires me are true life David-and-Goliath stories. As in, the movie Miracle about the American ice hockey team that beat the Soviets during the 1980 Olympic Games in Lake Placid..
I’m also inspired by stories of people who have made some incredible accomplishments with their one, simple life. I’ve always enjoyed reading biographies. Abraham Lincoln. Steve Jobs. Howard Schulz.
Photo credit: Pixabay
About the time Hubby’s cancer was taking a sharp left turn, I was scheduled for head surgery — as in, remove portion of skull, push brain aside, untangle some things.
Up until that time, I had won our household’s “Caregiver of the Year” award eight years in a row. But now there was a new contender on the scene.
The 2013 nominee accompanied The Patient (that would be me) to physician appointments, picked up prescriptions and made sure The Patient took her meds. He did laundry, cooked and washed dishes.
He ran errands, fetched Chai tea and allowed The Patient to lounge around in pajamas as long as she wanted. All this while undergoing chemotherapy himself, some days worse than others.
I belong to a few unofficial support groups. One is my cancer-kicking hike group. Another is my Monday evening knitting posse. And then there’s the dog-petting, picture-taking, leaf-throwing, coffee-drinking Saturday morning walking group. Also cancer-kicking.
I first walked with this group as part of my cancer center job (back then it might have been to keep them in line). But I now attend because they’re part of my fabulous support system. Lifetime membership. Whether I want it or not.
It’s amazing how quickly a year roars past. A year ago—as Hubby was slipping away from me—buckets of love were pouring into our lives. Rivers. Waterfalls of love.
Change is in the air in my hometown. Even though it’s come late this year, downtown Bend is sporting new apparel that had been stashed in her autumn closet.
The idea was to leave a gift on someone’s front porch on September 22 in honor of Hubby’s birthday and our anniversary. Participants were asked to take a photo of the gift, and then post to Facebook or send via email with a blurb about who and why.
I’m pleased to report that the Porch Fairy was seen as far away as Lijiang, Yunnan Province in China.
Although I didn’t know it at the time, walking through Switzerland extended my life. I’m thinking they should have charged more for the tour.
There’s good reason for beauty — beauty in nature; in art; in the act of creating something. And believe me, the Swiss know how to do beauty. In their mountains. Their mountain lakes. Their ancient buildings.
Yesterday, we took a train to the world’s highest train station. Jungfraujoch at 11,388 feet.
At the end of the line, most of us walked even higher. Eyeball-to-eyeball with a glacier.
The plan was to bring the remainder of Hubby’s ashes with me. But I forgot them.
Which means I have to return to Switzerland. Have to.
Today we hiked up into the mountains below the Matterhorn. Hubby would have loved it. The exercise. The beauty. The mountain air. This fabulous group of fellow trekkers.
Hubby and I took up hiking and snowshoeing in our cancer years. We hiked the magnificent Cascades, Tetons and Rockies. And started stashing away loose change for some Swiss Alps hiking.
Hubby got his passport; I got mine renewed. And our loose change grew large enough to book a trip. But we ran out of time. And so I saved a few of Hubby’s ashes. And I’m leaving tomorrow for a ten-day walking tour in Switzerland.
Go Ahead Tours photo
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