I’ve got to tell you a secret...
When I left on June 17 for my great adventure in the Northwest Territories, I was convinced that it would probably be my last road trip.
I had a doctor appointment set for a few days after I returned, and I was certain that the doctor was going to find some incurable fatal disease that was hiding in my body.
Partly for that reason, I really went all out to see and do everything I could on the long journey. Of course, there were some constraints, like money, time and physical ability.
The reason I took that long and strenuous hike up the bluffs above the Columbia River to see those wonderful waterfalls, was that I figured it would probably be a good way to go if I wasn’t up to it.
Now, isn’t that poetic?
The trip up Mount Evans to over 14,000 feet altitude was another trek that I probably shouldn’t have taken. I know that I was really dizzy and out of breath when I walked around in that upper parking lot at the summit.
I took it easy and made several stops on the way back down the mountain to take my pictures, so it wasn’t as bad as I pictured it up there in the clouds.
Actually, I had experienced some internal aches and pains of undetermined nature prior to taking the trip, and that only made me more certain that there was something serious going on inside.
I was determined to do this one last thing, my “bucket list’ as it were, before I checked out.
When I realized, about halfway up the bluffs in Oregon, that my back and shoulders were no longer aching, I began to wonder if I was imagining the seriousness of the symptoms. There were other indications that my problems were not as bad as I had at first thought.
I completed my trip (alive, by golly) and kept my appointment with my doctor. I was completely honest and thorough with him about my symptoms.
The doctor, in turn, was unimpressed with most of what I told him, and suggested a few over-the-counter remedies to relieve the aches and pains. Things like vitamins, calcium and such were “prescribed” and I was sent on my way with no expensive tests, drugs or (God forbid) procedures.
So, here I am, four months past my “final sprint” to the finish line of life, with another two driving trips to Buffalo and Winston-Salem, and feeling pretty darned good for an old man of 70.
Heck, I already have plans to do another solo venture next summer, though it won’t be a far or as long as my “Don’t Fence Me In” sojourn. I don’t plan to climb any mountains in Michigan or Wisconsin, but I might climb some lighthouses, on the inside, of course.
There is a sad ending to my tale, however. My brother, Don, has been battling lung cancer for the past year. I received a phone call last Monday that he died peacefully in his sleep Sunday night.
Perhaps my premonition was not about me, but rather about my brother. It was fortunate that I was able to visit him twice in the past few months to say goodbye, but I will miss him terribly.
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