It’s a Tough Job, But Somebody Had To Do It

As I’ve mentioned previously, Alice has been my Death Doula and caretaker for the last couple years.  Not that I’m at the immediate end of my life, but she said she was in it, not just for while my husband was going through his end of life journey with Alzheimer’s, but through the end of my life.

We prefer to call it End of Life Doula rather than Death Doula.  One of the many supportive roles of a Doula is to help support an individual’s bucket list. When she took on this role, she knew that the 50-state ride was on my bucket list along with a few other things. I had made that pretty clear when we first met.

Given the fact that I was not in the best of health primarily due to my physical injuries and had an obvious disregard for good nutritional habits, there was a lot of work for her to do to convince me to make some changes.  My previous attitude about the habits I was firmly entrenched in after over 40 years of indulging them, was that given my age and how much I enjoyed my bad habits, at this point, I figured I would just keep enjoying them until the end.  Any damage is already done, so why quit at this age?  Why introduce eating healthy, drinking something besides six bottles of Diet Coke a day (like water?), quit smoking, start regular exercise?  I really didn’t think it was necessary to do all that at this stage of the game.  After all, I thoroughly enjoyed my habits and I really wasn’t motivated to go through the hard work and discipline to actually make changes.  The last three years it was hard enough just to walk through every day.

If you’ve been following my blogs, you know the litany of challenges I faced over the last three years and the spiritual growth I’ve been going through in addition to my physical recovery.  I’ve been working pretty hard on my emotional recovery through my grief in addition to figuring out who I am now and how I want to move forward with my life.  I’m not going to rehash that here.

I pride myself on being a strong independent woman and accepting help doesn’t come easy.  Accepting and following good advice is even harder.  There’s a thing called pride and ego that stands squarely in the way.  Setting that aside is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done in life.  It never comes easy.  It usually takes being completely broken down by whatever I’m dealing with at the time.  I’ve gone through it more than once in my life, but haven’t even begun to master that lesson. So, here it comes again.  Fortunately for me, that didn’t bother Alice a bit.  She was able to break through my defenses and guide me to literally getting back on my feet from being in a wheelchair anytime I left the house and being addicted to narcotics to control the pain.  They quit working after awhile and I had learned enough about myself through Alcoholics Anonymous that I wasn’t going down the path of drug abuse.  So, contrary to all advice, I crashed off the narcotics and landed in the emergency room.  So much for that strong, independent woman.  I was broken.

But, I wasn’t willing to throw in the towel.  I wasn’t done living yet.  And, I had a burning desire to fulfill my bucket list and be Alice’s partner on the 50-state motorcycle ride.  As a prerequisite for my surgery, I started pool therapy.  Alice had to take me into the pool area in my wheelchair, because walking was so painful.  Through physical therapy I got strong enough to start walking with a cane.  Then came the daily treks in and out and around the hospital the last six weeks of my son’s life.  Come spring, I wasn’t using the cane and was able to get back on the bike and ride.  But, being a bit out of practice the last few years due to my back, the first thing I did was to drop my bike in a parking lot and break my foot.  So, onto a boot and crutches.  Finally, I heal from that and had my SI Joint Fusion Surgery.  Crutches for another six weeks.  Since sometime in November last year I have been walking and getting stronger.  I fought Alice tooth and nail about that water she said I should be drinking instead of Diet Coke.  My eating habits have improved slightly, some days better than others.  I had lost so much weight and strength during my battle with pain, narcotics and the stresses of losing my son and my husband that it became a necessity to work on eating again and gaining weight.  That is still a big struggle for me, but is getting better.

Over the last two months I have been on five motorcycle trips (two of them camping along the way), a fishing/camping trip and working on a farm for a few days this week.  The progress I have been making is amazing.  The first couple trips were tough going. Pain and lack of strength and stamina were quite obvious.  But I kept going and kept doing.  Alice has been my daily, sometimes hourly, cheerleader and her brand of tough love broke through my defenses, bruised my ego a bit (a necessary part of the process when dealing with someone like me) and guided me back to better health.  When I want something bad enough, I become a little more willing to listen and make changes.

So here I am on my fifth motorcycle trip, working on a farm, eating vegetables and drinking water.  What the hell?  Has the world started turning the other way?  I don’t know, but I gotta tell you, I’m pretty proud of the progress I’ve made in every aspect of my life.  I’m excited that I get to experience a whole lot more before I exit this world.  The Wild Child in me has come alive and I’m ready to fly (figuratively speaking, of course). I think I’ll just keep two wheels on the road).  As Bon Jovi sings:  “It’s my life, it’s now or never, I ain’t going to live forever, I just wanna live while I’m alive.”  I’m doing it my way, but not alone.  Letting someone else help me figure it out has been a struggle, but I’m grateful for the help and support.  And, come hell or high water I’m going to be leaving May 1, 2027 for the adventure of life with love for myself and others in my heart and hopefully do some good along the way.  That’s all I can really ask for.

Love and Peace,

Chick