A Hike in the Woods

Almost daily I feel overwhelming gratitude for where we live. Not just America, not just East Tennessee. I love our little town, our corner of the county, our neighborhood, and our home. I recognize this is a huge blessing, as many people wish they lived elsewhere in the country, elsewhere in their city, elsewhere in their county.

We are doing what we’ve been told to help flatten the curve of COVID-19 transmission: We are keeping to ourselves unless it’s absolutely necessary to go out. Obviously, I’m still accompanying Dad to radiation (today begins Week 4 of 6). We have made quick trips to the store, and we’ve ordered take-out from our favorite Mexican restaurant. Otherwise, we’re laying low.

Yesterday we had a break in the rain, so we took the opportunity to surgically remove the boys from electronics and go for a hike. Jeremy drove us!

This was my first time riding with him other than a quick spin around the mall parking lot months ago. Chuck has been handling all the instruction, and I’m happy to report that I felt safe and secure in the back seat with my seatbelt on. It helped that the roads were mostly empty.

The trail we walked is a 13-mile drive from our house.

When Major was younger, we’d let him run off the leash and wear out his energy on trails like these. He’d never go too far ahead of us or stay too far behind, but with his nose to the ground, he’d enjoy the adventure. Now, at almost seven and a half, Major’s energy wanes more quickly. Yet, he’s still an explorer and always plays around in the water if he can get to it.

Thankfully, the boys didn’t resist the hike. They didn’t even complain. Perhaps they too realized the air in our house had become stale and a walk in the fresh air would do them some good.

It still looks like winter in places where we live, but spring is poking through. There were little tufts of green scattered throughout the forest. In a matter of weeks, green will replace all the brown and create a canopy of shade over the trails.

I thought this felled tree looked like a dragon’s head.

A quick song for the forest animals:

We went roughly three miles, and honestly, we could’ve stayed out longer. We have all kinds of time on the weekends since we can’t visit my dad and everything is closed (rightfully so).

Today we get back to homeschooling, working from home, and taking almost-daily trips to the UT Cancer Institute. I have no idea how long this quarantine will continue, but I have a sneaking suspicion that our spring semester will end like this – communicating online and participating in virtual classrooms. It’s not a huge adjustment for us since we’ve been homeschooling since 2012, but it’s not what we prefer.

If you’d told me 2020 was going to look like this, I never would’ve believed you. How is it only March?

The Coronavirus Curveball

We are two weeks into Dad’s treatment for cardiac sarcoma, and now the rehab center, where he lives full time, is on lockdown.

Before today, we’ve been able to spend as much time with Dad as we wanted to at the rehab center. In fact, Mom spent most of February sleeping in his room at night so he wouldn’t be alone.

Now, and for good reason, the facility isn’t letting in any visitors, and all employees must get a fever check prior to coming inside.

Today I visited Dad one last time (outside the facility) and reassured him that we’d still have time together during his weekday treatments. Truth be told, I was put off by the idea of DAILY radiation two weeks ago, and now I’m grateful. See how quickly everything can change?

The disconnection we’re all feeling is palpable. Mom and Dad want to be together, and Becky and I want to be there to help them, but we’re all separated by miles, and the coronavirus has thrown us a curveball.

Yet, in an attempt to remain grateful for every possible blessing, I’m reflecting on our ability to be with him during treatment, to help him re-learn to walk when we’re together, and to share stories from years past (nostalgia has always been my favorite drug).

We are still laughing and smiling as much as possible (sometimes too loudly, as seen in this photo – Mom was trying her best to hold it in). 🙂

We have no idea how long the lockdown will be in place. The administrators probably don’t know either. No one knows anything, so we’re all doing what feels best and right. I want to stay well so I can sit with Dad during chemotherapy, so I can be his taxi after radiation, so I can keep doing whatever I need to do to help my mom. If that means shutting the world down for three weeks, then that’s fine with me.

As for Dad, he’s is determined and steadfast. “Just tell me what to do,” he keeps saying. I love it. I see myself in him so frequently these days. Stubborn yet self-critical. If they told him to climb Mount LeConte, he’d grab his walker and give it a go.

And we’d be right there cheering him on.