I can’t believe that after eight days on the river, here I sit in front of my computer.
I have so much to take from this trip that I need some time to digest everything that happened, but I do believe that these lessons will only further my initiative in helping young adults survive cancer.
Being away from everything was frustrating, but incredibly refreshing. I already miss the sand between my toes and the early morning kayaking on the river. The sound of my paddle dipping into the glassy river, while watching the water drip off as if it were dew, still stays in my mind. In fact, I still feel as if I’m paddling!
The crew was fantastic. The guides, spiritually, physically and emotionally, were our rocks, as we were to each other. I don’t know what I would have done without the setup on some of those scary rapids. But I knew that because you were there, that we would be fine.
I felt your disappointment as many of us crashed on “Read ‘em and weep” and “Artillery”. The fact that many of us made it down the Class 4 was awe inspiring.
Watching those that were afraid of heights, jump from a 30 foot cliff into the pristine water below was rewarding. Seeing people push past their fears, as well as my own really made me feel much bigger than the tiny person I am on this earth.
To look up at night and see those stars, planets, satellites and planes above me didn’t make me feel small at all - in fact, I really felt as if I was a part of it all, that I wasn’t insignificant and that everything I did affected everything else. That the steps I made in the morning through the sand to find my bathroom, were steps that could change so much. Change the ecology around me. I felt sustainable roughing it. That this was almost where I was meant to be, always on the water, stepping outside my comfort zone.
I remember the first time I fell out of my kayak. I should have high-sided, which meant that I should have leaned into the rock when I smacked up against it, so that the force of me pushing up on it, would release the current beneath me and set me free. Well, the first time I couldn’t quite understand that, but I learned my lesson and did my best to hang on as long as I possibly could. Unfortunately, there were a few times that although I’d always had a fear of being under water without being able to hold my nose, that in the spur of the moment when I went under, that it really didn’t matter, and it was no longer a big deal to me.
Me feeling as if I’d almost drowned a few times as a child, I still carried this silly fear with me that somehow I would drown. Fortunately, having a PFD (personal flotation device), a helmet and gloves, helped reduce my fear. It also helped having people I trusted my life in around me most of the time.
I am sure that I will be adding more to this blog as time goes on and as I begin to only touch the surface upon what I’ve just embarked on. I will be helping to facilitate in a little over a month, at a young adult cancer retreat put on my Young Adult Cancer Canada (www.youngadultcancer.ca). I’m looking forward to applying the tools I’ve learned to speaking with new young adult cancer patients/survivors/supporters.
Thank you again for a trip of a lifetime. The support doesn’t end here. Can’t wait till we have some pictures up and some footage of the film. Everyone was fantastic. I miss you all!
Oh, and on the note of media, I watched something on 16×9 last night about a guy with Leukemia who kept on trucking even though doctors only gave him a few months to live. He said that no matter if he was around or not, his film always would be (http://www.globaltv.com/globaltv/globalshows/16×9/video.html - episode 135, July 26, 2009).
Love always, Jen.

Look at me mom, no hands!

The crew, about to head out (minus frolicking Fred, film crew, photographer and guides)