R2R2R
I’ve lost track of how many times we’ve taken him to the
Emergency Room…how many admissions…the surgeries…the spinal taps…the tests…all
the diagnoses. I do remember the ambulance
ride he took, when his blood pressure and other vital signs were so low, that
they told us to “prepare for any outcome”. We
weren’t told that he was a fighter, or that he was strong. Repeatedly, we were told his
limitations.
Noah had a rough go, and it showed in his personality. He was painfully shy. Day after day, I would go to pick him
up from school, and he would be at the “crying table” because he said he missed
me. He was afraid of
everything.
As I sit in this hotel room now, listening to him sleeping soundly, I can hardly believe it is the same person. Yesterday, we finished our rim to rim to rim (R2R2R) hike of
the Grand Canyon.
I didn’t want to take him. I had planned on it being a solo trek, but he had other
plans. He INSISTED. Gone is that shy child. When Noah wants something, he says
it. There was no way I was getting
on that plane without him, regardless of my protests that it would be
challenging for him.
And, challenging it was, although the beauty was breath
taking. We saw colors we didn’t
know existed. We saw nature
completely ignore us. During the
night, we were the only hikers returning from the North Rim….we had the canyon
to ourselves.
I learned more about my son during those 20 hours of hiking
than I had in the past 18 years. I
saw him struggle, over-come, creatively problem-solve, suck it up, become
frustrated, show kindness, and persevere. We talked about everything…the conversations were organic and
free flowing. I got a glimpse into
the man he is and how he will handle life’s challenges when he is on his own.
The struggles of the hike were real. The temperature went from 30 to 80 back
to 30 and back to over 80. We had
21,000 vertical feet of climbing.
We under-estimated our water needs, and having pumps turned off, that we
planned on being on, compounded our situation. Noah became very dehydrated. We had planned on hiking straight through the night, but by
midnight, Noah was struggling. I
worried about his health. “Mom, I
let you down. I told you I could
do this, and I can’t”. We had to
stop. Not having a camping permit
(winning the lottery is easier than getting one), we had to be
resourceful. With the temperature
dropping, as well as the multitude of wild life (we were sure not to pick up
any sticks that rattled), we could not just find a comfortable looking rock and
rest. So, we found a restroom at a
campsite and slept for a few hours.
A new low for me.
When we woke, Noah told me he was done. He wanted to take a mule ride up to the
South Rim. Ok, I said and looked
into it. $900 was the going
rate. An obvious way to dissuade
people from taking the easy way out.
Okay, time for plan B.
We had two choices.
We could hike up Bright Angel, which would be an easier hike, but 2.5
miles longer or take South Kaibab, which we descended the day before. We knew it was rugged. I gave Noah the choice. “Okay, so my choices are less suck for
longer or more suck for shorter”.
He wordlessly turned down the South Kaibab trail. It would be the roughest thing he has
faced in his life so far.
His thoughts got pretty dark and he was beating himself
up. I would hike ahead of him and
get to a landmark to set up food and the little water we had left. Then I would wait…and worry. Each time, it took him longer to reach
me, but each time, he would get there.
Finally, we had 1.5 miles to go. The area was full of tourists and Noah was not amused by
their glee at seeing the canyon. “Noah,
I’m going. What you are feeling
now will pass, but what you will feel in a mile and a half will stick with you
forever. Don’t let negative
thoughts take it from you” is all I could think of to share. After leaving him that last time, when I was out of his sight, my
eyes had tears in them. I wanted his hurt, both physical and emotional, to end, but there was nothing I could do to make it happen.
At the trailhead….I waited….and waited. Finally, there he was. Arms raised in the air and a smile on
his face 100 years couldn’t make me forget. He looked at me told me he loved me and asked where we could
get ice cream. It was the proudest
moment of my life.
Noah, you are a fighter and you are strong. Life will give you limits and challenge you, but I firmly
believe you will find a way around them.
Thank you for being a pain in the butt about coming on this trip. I love you boy.
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