Safety First ... Quadriplegic Kayaking

Ok, I'm no Felix Baumgartner, you know ... the guy that jumped from a balloon capsule over 125,000 feet up. We were watching (along with the appropriate oohs and aahs) the Red Bull stunt live the other day, when my friend casually strolls behind me and nonchalantly says, “With all the safeties built into that thing, you going kayaking is probably more dangerous.”

I had to laugh, as the memory of my ill-fated adventure came back, and acknowledge that he may be right. Funny how our brain will block out life's embarrassing moments, heck I'd forgotten (or at least kept quiet about) this incident until the video camera was unloaded months later.

It was last spring, we were all tired of the winter doldrums and thoughts of summertime fun were infiltrating the old puzzler. As if on cue an email shows up that grabbed my attention ... Disabled Kayaking.

My wife and I had discussed this topic before, and watched Youtube videos on the subject, and I had her convinced that it was safe enough (I mean, how dangerous could it be?).

In replying to the email I asked all the important questions:

“Are you set up for this? Have you handled people with disabilities before?”

“Yep” came the answer, investigation over.

“Sign me up”

Priorities Rearranged

     Well, the blog has ground to a temporary halt this summer. Summer is usually the time that we get out and do things, and try to find stuff that is worthy of writing about. Unfortunately, lately that quest became seemingly very unimportant in the scheme of life. When something like this happens in your life, it really throws your perception of what really is a biggee, and what isn't.

     My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer in the spring. It seemed like bad news after bad news followed. I'll never forget the look on her face when she received the call that there was nothing that the doctors could do and that treatments would be ended. It felt like all of the air was sucked out of the room. Mom's spirit was totally deflated after the call, and she stared off into space. She had recently been having the time of her life, playing music and travelling with Lloyd, and they had so many future fun adventures planned. It all seemed overwhelmingly unfair. Fortunately we live close by and were able to spend lots of time with her those last months. Mom grew weaker and weaker, and near the end of July, with Lloyd faithfully at her side, her battle was over. Words will never adequately describe the hole that is left in our lives. We were left totally numb. It felt like the months after breaking my neck, a low point is reached beyond which more bad news means nothing, you've reached your limit. Needless to say, things that used to be a big deal no longer are. All of the normal fun things seem unimportant, and therefore unappealing. Hence I have very little cool and fun stuff to write about. We have done very little camping, no flying since June, not even any fishing yet. I know from past experience that this will pass, and my friends and family have been so great at helping us to get back to (the new) normal. Mom will be sorely missed, but we must remember that there was a lot more to her life than the last few months of sickness. She had many years of health and happiness, a lot of exciting adventures, and was loved by so many people. We must say goodbye for now, but we know that it is only for now.

Goodbye Mom.

     Mom's passing reminded me of a story I wrote after my father passed away six years ago, I hope he built his cabin in paradise.