James’ brother, Roger & his wife, my Aunt Glenda, were here in November for James’ burial service. While visiting, Roger invited me to run in a 10K race with him- the Cooper River Bridge Run in Charleston, SC. I was thrilled to accept his offer! I knew this would motivate me to keep running through the cold winter months. To participate in this race would be meaningful because I adore my great uncle Roger. It would also be special because James and Roger ran together for years. In fact, during Roger and Glenda’s last visit to see James just days before his passing, running was the topic of discussion. It was James who brought up his memory of a run the two brothers took years ago…James even recalled the route they took.
I began “training” for the 6.2 mile run on January 1st. A training calendar hung in my kitchen to remind me to stay on course. As the time drew closer for the race, it occurred to me that traveling to SC for this race meant leaving Etta here. There would be 8 hours of driving distance between us. I felt sick thinking about it. The last time I left town, I was nearly 2 hours down the road when I got the call that James had suddenly died. I couldn’t help but think about that and fear set in. It wasn’t reasonable or rational and certainly I couldn’t stop traveling while Etta is still with us. At the same time, I had to consider the worst case scenario and make an emergency backup plan with a back up for that plan as well. This made being so far from her a little easier to accept. I hired a private duty attendant to visit Etta each day in my absence and to report back to me. I planned to call during each shift to check on Etta as well and to talk to her daily. AND, should something happen, I knew I could hop on a plane and be home by her side. If necessary, I knew Roger could even fly me back to Charlottesville. Though the thought of a flight in his little plane made my knees tremble and my blood pressure skyrocket, this would be the one thing that would force me to overcome the terror of flying in such a plane. Nothing could keep me from being with Etta if she needed me, or God forbid, from saying good-by to her one last time.
This line of thinking may sound extreme, but it’s the reality of the situation. Like many of you, every decision of every day involves equal consideration of the impact of my choices/actions on my children and husband. Adding Etta to this consideration is more complicated than adding a member to my family or household. While others may visit her from time to time, those visits are usually months in between. She depends on me for many things and I count that as both a privilege and a responsibility. While most days feel like Groundhog Day, I have to resist a natural tendency to become complacent. I literally try and approach each day as if it were the last.
On March 31st, we left Charlottesville and headed for Charleston. I felt sick, anxious, and irritable. The combination was not pretty. For an hour, I sat in the car in complete silence (imagine that!). I prayed. I meditated. I reminded myself of my emergency plan and of all the arrangements I had in place while I was away. Finally, the stress began to melt away and I was able to anticipate the promise of a great time with my family in SC. It would be ok. Life has to go on- for my sanity and for my family.
Our family had a great time while in Charleston. We visited with other family that live nearby and enjoyed more than our share of delicious southern dishes. We laughed, shared stories, and had a chance to feel like a “normal” family again. I ran the 10K, beating my PR per mile and finishing faster than my goal. I rode on a Harley, drove a Corvette, and even attempted to drink a beer (yuck, it’s still nasty to me). The children relished in the opportunity to capture lizards and explore the woods for hours each day. They played with cousins and even went swimming. And while the days were so very wonderful, Etta never left my mind. Many, if not most of the conversations, were about Etta and the situation. I couldn’t help it. She was on my mind constantly despite my efforts to distract myself. Of course, Etta was just fine without me, but I know we both missed each other. Though weepy when we left Charleston and the family I love so much there, I was also happy to return home to Etta.
I began “training” for the 6.2 mile run on January 1st. A training calendar hung in my kitchen to remind me to stay on course. As the time drew closer for the race, it occurred to me that traveling to SC for this race meant leaving Etta here. There would be 8 hours of driving distance between us. I felt sick thinking about it. The last time I left town, I was nearly 2 hours down the road when I got the call that James had suddenly died. I couldn’t help but think about that and fear set in. It wasn’t reasonable or rational and certainly I couldn’t stop traveling while Etta is still with us. At the same time, I had to consider the worst case scenario and make an emergency backup plan with a back up for that plan as well. This made being so far from her a little easier to accept. I hired a private duty attendant to visit Etta each day in my absence and to report back to me. I planned to call during each shift to check on Etta as well and to talk to her daily. AND, should something happen, I knew I could hop on a plane and be home by her side. If necessary, I knew Roger could even fly me back to Charlottesville. Though the thought of a flight in his little plane made my knees tremble and my blood pressure skyrocket, this would be the one thing that would force me to overcome the terror of flying in such a plane. Nothing could keep me from being with Etta if she needed me, or God forbid, from saying good-by to her one last time.
This line of thinking may sound extreme, but it’s the reality of the situation. Like many of you, every decision of every day involves equal consideration of the impact of my choices/actions on my children and husband. Adding Etta to this consideration is more complicated than adding a member to my family or household. While others may visit her from time to time, those visits are usually months in between. She depends on me for many things and I count that as both a privilege and a responsibility. While most days feel like Groundhog Day, I have to resist a natural tendency to become complacent. I literally try and approach each day as if it were the last.
On March 31st, we left Charlottesville and headed for Charleston. I felt sick, anxious, and irritable. The combination was not pretty. For an hour, I sat in the car in complete silence (imagine that!). I prayed. I meditated. I reminded myself of my emergency plan and of all the arrangements I had in place while I was away. Finally, the stress began to melt away and I was able to anticipate the promise of a great time with my family in SC. It would be ok. Life has to go on- for my sanity and for my family.
Our family had a great time while in Charleston. We visited with other family that live nearby and enjoyed more than our share of delicious southern dishes. We laughed, shared stories, and had a chance to feel like a “normal” family again. I ran the 10K, beating my PR per mile and finishing faster than my goal. I rode on a Harley, drove a Corvette, and even attempted to drink a beer (yuck, it’s still nasty to me). The children relished in the opportunity to capture lizards and explore the woods for hours each day. They played with cousins and even went swimming. And while the days were so very wonderful, Etta never left my mind. Many, if not most of the conversations, were about Etta and the situation. I couldn’t help it. She was on my mind constantly despite my efforts to distract myself. Of course, Etta was just fine without me, but I know we both missed each other. Though weepy when we left Charleston and the family I love so much there, I was also happy to return home to Etta.