Almost There...

Sometimes the last portage of the day is the longest portage. This can be true in fact though it is more often it is the longest because it is the last one of the day and you won't have to pick up the canoe and food pack again till you reach your camp for the night. Your arms and legs were already tired before you left the lake behind and all you knew was that the map showed a very long portage ahead. As good as they can be the maps never show the downed trees you scrape over or not-quite-down trees that you have to scramble under, or the slippery log walkways across sucking bogs, complete with knee-twisting boulders thrown in for fun. The maps never talk about sweat and ache and the bugs that travel with you, swirling around your head. The maps assume you know these things all too well.

Portages are a head game, as much as a physical trial, and at some point you find you are looking ahead for the end. You sense that it should be near and you shift the weight of the canoe from your right shoulder to your left as you tell yourself to hang on a bit longer, just a bit longer.You have already gone up and down the 'last ridge' three times and still you haven't caught a glimpse of blue shimmering through the birches, still haven't felt that breath of cool air wafting up from the lake below and now the portage is hard and you want to quit but there is nowhere to quit to, and with the end so very near, why not keep on?

You are so busy in your head, trying to hang on, that when the lake does become visible and the cool breeze caresses your sweaty brow you can scarcely believe the end is near. The pack and canoe don't magically become lighter but you square your shoulders and shake your load back into place. In a few moments you will heave the canoe off your burning shoulders onto the water with a heavy splat! because you are too tired to flip it up and off with grace. The pack will slide heavily into the canoe, nearly taking you with it and at last you will be able to stand upright. With the sudden loss of weight you feel floaty as you stand at the water's edge, catching your breath. Naturally your eyes gaze out over the water. There is still a camp to be made and a short paddle to get there, but, you are almost there...

Chemo number 7 is almost under our belt. Well, it rides in the fanny pack on my belt as I type this. Only one more treatment to go and then we can make camp and start to get our life back. I am having a hard time this morning. I woke an hour ago, at 4:30 with a headache from tears held back for too long. I found myself thinking of friends and family, doctors and nurses that have gotten me, gotten Karen and I this far, and the tears just came. In spite of knowing better, I even caught myself beginning to plan the celebration we hope to have this summer.

I got up when I became worried that my sobs and shaking would wake Karen and came out to the kitchen to post this blog. She will probably be a bit upset I didn't wake her so she could hold me and listen but... She needs her sleep. The space behind my eyes still aches, the tears are still there. They will be for quite some time. After all we are closer to the end. I can almost feel the breeze coming off the water...

Peace,
Mike