I had a work meeting this morning. As I've mentioned, things have been on the intense side with my patients. And then my sister in law died. My work rallied behind me in such a special way (I am so blessed to work with them) and really helped hold me up when I needed to take a break. So today, as I was talking with my social worker friend I found myself reliving the story of yesterday, a story of how I came THIS close to death, and as I was speaking the words I suddenly found myself to be very embarrassed; another dramatic story in my life. Why does there seem to be so many of these? I do not like drama, and yet, at least for the past month, it has been sticking to me like glue. It makes me question my own relationship to it, my own cause and effect. It made me want to skip over the story of yesterday entirely and move forward like it didn't exist. Perhaps I should really do this. But I'm not going to. I'll tell it, share, learn and move on.
The whole near death experience lasted for maybe 30-45 minutes. I was hiking a 14,000+ foot mountain with a friend. We got off the path. We got ourselves into a bind and found ourselves scrambling for the ridge in a small, ravine that was, well nearly 14,000 feet in the air. This was not a good route. There was loose dirt and rocks around us and the rocks that were needed for a stronghold were crumbling beneath my fingers and feet. Each step took about 5 minutes until I could find another good one that wouldn't cave beneath my feet. I became terrified. In that moment I suddenly became acutely aware of my own mortality. I wanted to cry as I remembered Ellie begging me to go back to bed from our snuggly hotel room in Breckinridge that very morning. I prayed to God. I prayed that I would make it out of that moment and that similarly, I wouldn't kill my friend with an assault of loose scree as he climbed beneath me. I tried my absolute best to withhold a full blown panic attack. I didn't want to die. What the hell was I doing in that situation?
Through some crazy maneuvering we got out of that ravine. I was more scared than my friend who insisted that we wouldn't have died, we would have nearly fallen and scrambled and probably skinned ourselves severely. Fun, too.
I am not proud of the experience that happened yesterday. I do not seek out those fear induced moments. I do not desire them either. But that's the thing about mountains. Mountains are to be reckoned with. You have to be prepared for a slew of "what if" experiences. When you are hiking that high up you are so exposed and you are the visitor. Mountains are fantastic and scary. I stood on top of that mountain and it felt like I was on top of the world; I was so unbelievably high. My body was so tired, emotionally and physically, and I was so grateful for the ground beneath my feet. I was alive!
There are simple lessons in this story: trust your instincts, wear a helmet when hiking so high and never underestimate mama nature.
And then there are life lessons. Sometimes life is hard. Sometimes you find yourself in squirrely situations. Sometimes all you can do is try, as hard as you can, to get out alive. To get out sane. To get out however way you want. Sometimes you don't have control. Sometimes you hope that there are angels helping you. Sometimes it feels like bringing your body up a mountain, real or metaphorical, is the most difficult task in the world. But still, you do it. Because you can.
