So, despite everything, Middle and I started out on the Camino on the 22nd. We walked from Porto to Vila do Conde and already found our journey filled with lessons. We were walking the Coastal Route, but much of it was closed because they are rebuilding the Boardwalk. It was really clear they needed to be rebuilding the boardwalk, but it did make an interesting walk for us. I have to admit, there were times we cheated with cross country walking and even walking on the boardwalk on some places that were supposed to be closed. Lesson one then: it is the journey, not the route. Yes, that's a different spin on the saying, but that was an important lesson for me. We get there how we get there. There isn't a "right" way, there's just the way we travel. And along that way we still encountered other walkers, had some wonderful conversations with them and even more with each other. I had to put aside following the path exactly because it simply couldn't be done, kind of like life. There's no right path, only the path we find ourselves on. Learning to be okay with that is a helpful lesson.
The second lesson was in the kindness of strangers, again. The very first thing we did on our journey was stop at a cafe to get breakfast. As we got up to leave, I forgot my walking poles. They were the only thing not actually in my backpack and I just plain forgot them because I have not been used to walking with them. But we walked maybe three blocks and I became aware of shouting behind me: the cafe worker had run after us to make sure I had my poles! She didn't need to do that: but she did, for which I was very grateful. A second lesson: there is kindness to be found everywhere!
Third lesson: I went with concerns about my ability to do this. Many of you know I have had knee and toe problems (osteo-arthritis) that have at times made hiking painful. I'd done what I could ahead of time: I'd received PRP injections in both sites and had been slowly working up to be able to walk the distance, but I was still concerned. I found I was absolutely fine! I have a good pack, good shoes, and the poles really helped. What surprised me was that it was Middle who said, "I think I need to have my stuff schlepped. It's too heavy and I can't do this." Granted his pack is twice (at least) as heavy as mine because he will be traveling all summer around Europe and doing different things like climbing the Alps and camping so he needed different equipment and more of it.. But it became clear we were not going to be able to make this work for him if he had to carry all his belongings the whole way. Still, the soonest we could order the schlepping service was for day 4. So we would have three days of carrying our own stuff, and we would learn to stop often, to rest, to do what was needed to help us get through.
All in all, it was truly a marvelous day. And I found myself as always just truly aware of how blessed I am by the incredible son I have. Our conversations were amazing. It is a wonderful gift to me that I have a 21 year old son who actually talks to me about philosophy, politics and religion. It's not that we always agree, but that's part of the joy of the conversation. We talk, we learn, we grow, sometimes we entrench in our own view points, but we share. And for that I am grateful.
Day two, the 23rd, we walked from Vila do Conde to Esposende. There were new lessons, some that I already know but had reinforced. The primary lesson of day two was that I don't function well when I'm hungry, and when I'm active, I can't always recognize my own hunger. At that point, if I do recognize hunger, I often can't decide where or what I want to eat. Middle was not in a mood to make decisions either so there were some crabby moments between us when I wondered if we'd be able to make the trip together work. When we arrived at the hotel (yes, we are staying in hotels: I was not interested in the whole hostel situation as it was described to me), we were both truly exhausted. Middle had still shlepped all his stuff and according to our tracking records we'd walked about 17 miles that day. Still, we felt good about making it and had a wonderful dinner to finish the day.
Then we come to the night of day two. As you probably remember from my previous post, on the morning of the 21st I went to a dentist our hotel found for me because of extreme pain in a back bottom tooth and all along my jaw. The dentist didn't really speak English and my Portuguese is minimal, but she told me I had a bad infection in that tooth and had given me a prescription for antibiotics and ibuprofen. By the evening of the 23rd, then, I had taken three full days of both and the pain was not lessening at all. Most of the time it was manageable with the ibuprofen. But if I drank anything (kind of necessary while hiking), or ate anything that was not room temperature (both heat and cold set it off), or laid down (like to go to sleep at night), the pain was still almost unbearable. At one point we actually met an American endodontist who said that I really needed to get this dealt with and that there would probably be someone in Portugal who could do it, but recovery could prevent me walking a couple days at the least. Also, I'd be paying out of pocket if I had it done in Portugal. I told her I had antibiotics, but I only had been given 8 day's worth which meant there would be 4 days walking without it before returning home to have the tooth looked at and taken care of. She did not think that was a good thing at all.
Then, as the night went on, I started to feel... well, not so good. A bit feverish, I had a headache that was increasing, my skin hurt, I was starting to cough a bit. I dismissed all of it: after all, I know you can get sun sick. And dealing with a little cold was not going to stop me. But then David, who had left us on the morning of the 22nd to fly home, texted me around 4:30am to let me know that the cough he'd had for the last two days we'd been together had turned into being truly sick and he'd tested positive for COVID. Oh great! We'd been together 24/7 for the previous 3 and a half weeks as we went around the UK. I did not see how it would be possible that what I was experiencing was anything other than the beginnings of COVID as well.
As I thought about all of this, at 4:30am, I thought that if it was one issue or the other: my tooth or being sick, I would figure it out. But honestly, I did not feel up to dealing with both of these things in another country while trying to hike my way to Santiago. So, with David's help, I changed my flight to come home on that third day, the 24th. I asked him to also get me an appointment with the dentist for the next day (today). Middle understood, though we were both sad. He decided he wanted to continue the walk and would do it for the both of us. After all, we had all our reservations laid out....
Still, by the time I got to the airport I was starting to feel I had made a truly terrible mistake. In my mind, I had allowed my fears of dental issues and illness to be the decider rather than time with my son and doing this incredible walk with him. The Camino is not supposed to be easy! But at that point, there was no changing it back. We'd used our travel insurance to change it in the first place with the excuse of the dental emergency and I did not see how they would accept another change. Still, I had a terrible day where I could not stop weeping, yes weeping, much to my embarrassment and that of those around me at the airport and in the plane. I felt like I was the worst mother on earth and that I had truly made one of the stupidest and unthinking decisions I had ever made by abandoning my son because of fears around tooth issues and illness.
You all know the flight situation. By the time I arrived home, at midnight last night, I had been awake then for 28 hours. I tried to sleep (in the living room since David has COVID and is isolating in our room), but the tooth pain was a problem again. So this morning, after four hours of sleep, I tested for COVID (negative so far) and then toddled off to the dentist. I needed a root canal, and immediately. The Endodontist who did it said I had a severe crack all through the root of my molar as well as the molar itself. The infection, despite the anti-biotics, was severe. And this wasn't just a "go in and have it fixed" kind of thing. I need to go back so he can do a little more work to remove all of the infection and then I will need a crown since the tooth is also cracked. I can only eat "soft" foods until this is all taken care of, and I'm supposed to rest as much as I can. Okay, then. So I guess it was the right decision to come home.
But I am still heartbroken. Truly heartbroken. Of all the parts of my sabbatical, as you all may know, this was the part that I was most looking forward to: time with my son to walk the Camino was the main purpose and highlight for me of this time.
Still, as always, I feel my job, both professionally and personally is to look for the hope and look for the good. So the good:
I did get four important and meaningful days with my son. Two in Porto and two walking. I have once again been given the opportunity to learn the lesson of flexibility. As Middle said it, "Plans aren't important. Planning is." So we did the planning. And the universe, or God, or whatever you blame for what interferes with those plans had other ideas. It turns out there are other important reasons to be home: other people who are close to me who are also in need right now. I want to be here for them as much as I can, which is harder to do from Portugal. I continue to be grateful for my son: for his kindness, his flexibility, and his determination to continue with the Camino despite everything. He's made connections with other folk on the path and he will be fine, as much as a part of me still thinks of him as a little boy.
And there we are. The best laid plans often don't mean a thing in this crazy but wondrous journey we call life. But there are gifts in all of it.
That's the update. And now I'm heading to take more ibuprofen as well as another antibiotic pill, and to get some sleep!
