The title: a text I received countless times since September 27, 2024.
There was a devastating hurricane, an election, and then, my aunt found herself in the hospital in Nashville with a new diagnosis of congestive heart failure in November. The global and local disasters all seemed to melt away once I found myself staying overnight at the hospital holding my aunt’s hand as she processes what her lifestyle can be, what trauma was left behind after being intubated, and what cocktail of medication her team of doctors asks her to experiment with next.
Much of November and December has been spent shuttling back and forth between WNC and Nashville (via detours because I-40 was washed away during Hurricane Helene) and providing management and care for my aunt who turns 82 in February. She has no children and many years ago named me as her power of attorney as well as the executor on her will.
This is uncharted territory for me though I know so many folks have walked these paths with loved ones before me. My last surviving grandparent died when I was a senior in high school so hospital visits and discussions of palliative or end-of-life care were not something I really faced or even listened in on. I’ve certainly seen peers, friends, and mentors disappear into the world of elder care but truly wasn’t ready to face it so suddenly, and for it to be my aunt who deposited us there.
Alongside elder care of my aunt also comes the elder care for my parents which has been a more obvious path opening ahead. They have the classic mix of one parent has their mind but their body is failing them while the other has their body but their mind is failing them. They have been able to provide support to my aunt through this but neither of them should really prioritize doing the literal heavy lifting or the, more abstract, incident command while also managing their own lives.
I am grateful for the incredible support of one of my aunt’s neighbors who has been the boots on the ground and has been the friend that stays over more times than I can count as well as my aunt’s significant other who has helped us all walk through this and has been deeply present along the way. My siblings and dear friends have provided support in so many ways, from showing up, to providing meals (looking at you Juli!) to simply being a listening ear when it all feels like a heavy lift to carry. Simply being the one that I can share news with is a huge help. Lastly, my partner, Mark, has shown up for me through this with patience and care and hugs whenever I need them. Together we have been the translators for my family from what the doctors say to what it means in plainspeak. I never knew that my WFR cert or the hours of listening to EMS 2020 would assist me in that way.
What we know is that my aunt has a road ahead of her that entails trying to hone in on the right mix of medications that are effective and tolerable to keep her stable as she finds her path forward. Timelines are unknown beyond when the next doctor appointment is.
As many of you know, I live a life of uncertainty. That’s a choice I made when I started my own business and deemed myself Chief Exploration Officer of Ruby Outdoors. You never know what’s around the next corner so the best you may be able to do is prepare yourself as best you can and then–just keep walking.
A mentor in the camp industry once told me when I asked him how he had managed to stay in the industry for so long, when there is so much invested into work and burnout rates are high and he said, “You have to simply ride the wave. There will always be highs and lows.” That is life after all huh? There are highs and lows and gnarly wipeouts and epic rides. And then there’s the cherished campfires where we sit around and tell all those stories as they float in our memories.
Surf’s up friends.