Awakening in the woods, part one

Erich and I celebrated our ninth anniversary by going camping in our favorite provincial park in the small town of Port Burwell, Ontario, on the northern shore of Lake Erie.

The last time we went, in May of 2007, was like a lifetime ago. We almost cancelled the whole thing because my knees were really starting to give me trouble and I was hobbling around with a cane. Earlier in the month, we had attended a Bo Bice concert in Buffalo at which I fainted from dehydration - a word to diabetics...do not forget to drink and eat when you're excited. I damn near missed Bo's show due to my own stupidity. I thought I'd injured my knee at that time because I really just went down with a *thud*, but come to find out there was very little cartilage to speak of - meaning, at age 37, I had what the doctors called "severe degenerative arthritis". They would look at my x-rays and cringe. That can never be a good thing.

Here's a picture of Erich and me at the Buffalo show where I fainted. I was not well and am now shocked at the way I look. I felt about the way I look, too. Tired, old, sick. (click to enlarge for all pics).



My poor husband had to do EVERYTHING during that first camping trip. He set up the tent by himself, unpacked the van by himself, collected water, cooked, did the dishes - all by himself. I could do very, very little. I remember him looking at me at one point and saying "You're miserable, aren't you?" Yes, I was. I felt old, fat, useless, guilty and not at all in the mood for a romantic weekend in the woods. It poured rain, too, which only further dampened my mood.

Of course, this time was different. I helped him unload everything and was so anxious to help him with the tent that I kept asking "Tell me what you want me to do", prompting him to hold up his hand and say "Give me a minute." LOL! But we got the tent and camp set up in a jiffy because I could help him. I felt really good about that, I must say.

The first thing I got excited about was my Normal Chair! Years ago, not long after we got married, Erich and I bought a couple collapsible chairs - one Canadian themed and one with a USA motif. Not thinking about weight limits at the time...I have never been able to sit in my USA chair. Till now. We scoured the Internet and stores in two countries to find me portable chairs to sit in when I weighed over 400 pounds. Most of the time, at first, I simply had to plop on a blanket. Here's a pic showing the two chairs behind me on a blanket at the beach:



And here's a pic of one of the chairs we finally found - this is a picture of my friends Paris and Nancy with me as we sat waiting for Lynyrd Skynyrd to start playing at an outdoor show in upstate NY. Slogging up that hill and barely making it was one of the several catalysts/light-bulb moments in 2008 that led me to have gastric bypass. Look at the supports on their chairs versus mine. Mine is industrial strength, baby!



And here's a pic of me last weekend finally sitting in the chair my husband bought for me about seven years ago.



We slept on an air mattress instead of the bed in the back of our conversion van just because well, I can! I can get up and down now without a problem. I froze to death, though - that was new. I was glad I brought sweats and a new sweatshirt I bought a couple months back. I had never owned things like sweatshirts and sweaters - I was never, ever cold before.

On Saturday we decided to explore the village a bit, visting the local maritime museum and historic lighthouse. I looovvee lighthouses, dude. I always wondered what it would be like to be at the top of one. Now, the one in Port Burwell isn't too terribly tall but I certainly never would've considered climbing it a year ago. Today, I couldn't wait to get up there! I took off up the stairs and giggled as the staircase got more and more narrow until we were basically crawling up a ladder. My god. I wouldn't have FIT up there before, if I had hoisted myself up the stairs to begin with. Erich took some snapshots, starting with me in front of the lighthouse:





When I got up there, I wasn't out of breath, wasn't sweating. It felt so good, I fumble for the words to describe it. Power and pride. That's all I can think of.

It was shaping up to be a great weekend already. Nearly every moment of the day I was consistently reminded of the new person I am. When I would walk to get fresh water. When I walked to go to the bathroom. When we walked around the village. When I sat in that chair. When I climbed that lighthouse, then wanted to do it again.

Next up was hiking. Lemme just tell you, Cindy has never "hiked" in her life. Like...why the hell would I do that? Seriously, that was the way I thought in the past. Why walk when I could drive?? DUH! Big red truck!! I mean, it was just obvious to me then and so sad to me now.

For years, I've heard Erich talk about a trail in Port Burwell that goes from the campgrounds to the beach. Literally, ever since I've known him. This is something I wanted to share with him. I hadn't been in the woods since I was a child, puttering around the seemingly endless "backyard" that surrounded my family's acreage in Southern Ohio. I just never had the energy, so I guess I faked the disinterest. I love nature, I do. But to get up from an easy chair and move my ass to see it? Nah, I'll pass. At least, I would've a year ago. Not today.

Something happened to me, emotionally, near the entrance of Ravine Creek Trail that I'll carry with me forever. It so startled me with its suddenness and intensity that it shook me up for a good long while afterwards. I'll save that story for my next blog.