Charles and I celebrated our 2nd wedding anniversary this week in the Great Smoky Mountains. We rented an AirBNB on a small family farm outside Gatlinburg, where the owner provides farm fresh eggs, goat milk soap and other natural products from her garden and animals. The cute one bedroom cabin was decorated with bears and Dolly Parton themed pillows and hand towels. There is a bison ranch down the road. We passed tractors and wagons up a long drive to our hideaway in the woods. It was kind of like being at home, but our without our dogs, chickens, and bees.
Every morning after having breakfast in the cabin, we got in our rental car and drove. The first day we drove through Pigeon Forge, bought a few souvenirs and an umbrella because it rained off and on. But we didn’t stay long in the touristy area; we were after nature and exercise.
The mountain air was damp. They don’t call it the Great Smoky Mountains for nothing. A fog lay over the top of the range much of the time, giving it the appearance of a forest fire from a distance. The damp and altitude presented some breathing challenges for me during our hikes. Charles found a nice stick for me on the trail. It was a perfect walking stick. Many people we saw had walking sticks made of metal. Some had walking sticks that folded up like a custom pool cue. Others had wooden sticks that were polished and varnished with metal seals attached to commemorate where they had walked before. My stick was free, and I would give it back to the park before we went home. The stick and the presence of Charles’ hand on my butt most of the time, assisted me in the uphill hikes and helped ease the strain on my heart.
On Wednesday, we stopped at the trail to Laurel Falls. Laurel Falls can be viewed from the top by walking 1.2 miles up a steep incline, with some “switch backs” which makes it a little easier than if they had not been there. Last year at this time, we went to Yellowstone and I climbed to a peak 8,000 miles above sea level (a mile walk without switchbacks), just weeks before I would have my open heart surgery to replace two bad valves. During the Yellowstone climb, Charles and I passed people coming back down who gave encouragement like “You’re halfway there,” “If we can do it you can,” “Keep going, the view is worth it.” The words were from people who seemed like teammates, some where older than us, some where younger, some were dragging children, some where dragging parents. But everyone was a member of the team. There were also people who passed us on the way up, who were also teammates. “See you at the top,” they’d say or “look for me collapsed on the trail on your way up.”
This trip was different. This year’s encouragements were more like pity. This year, I didn’t feel like part of the team as a whole, but more like a member of the small senior citizen team given special allowances and scores “for our age group.” The ranger at the head of the trail stopped me to recount how a man had stepped off the path and broke his hip that morning. “Why are you telling ME, sir?” I thought.
We ascended the mountain with Charles holding one hand and my stick in the other. As people passed us on their way back down, I heard, “take it easy,” “you’ll be ok,” “keep it up,” and even an “awe” or two. The builders of the path had placed benches strategically along the way so people could rest at the switch backs, but I found myself sitting on rocks and logs between benches. Couples and families passed us, uttering words of encouragement “wow, you have made it this far,” or “the path gets rough up ahead, watch your step,” or worse, sad little smiles. We saw two men pushing strollers with children in them up this rough and steep incline. Mothers carried babies in slings while holding toddler hands. A family of five (almost six) came down, having successfully reached the top. Dad had a child on his back, and was holding the hand of another. Mom was extremely pregnant, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she told me the climb was to induce labor because she was passed her due date. She had small child on her hip and was dragging a toddler who was spinning round and round as he descended the mountain. “Not even a mile climb will wear this child out,” she said. I didn’t have the air to respond.
People of my own age or older, where a little easier to take, but even they were passing me up. We got into conversation with a gentleman sporting a dark toupee. “When you break a hip,” he said, “That’s usually the door to your demise.” I told him about my mother’s broken hip. She was fine afterward, even walked on it an entire week before she went to the doctor about the pain. It was 25 years of breast cancer, not her broken hip, that took her. He said he hoped I have her good genes, then.
The coup de grâce came in the form of two women we met on the way down. From their dress and movement, I assumed they were older than me. The first was a white lady. She had thin bleached hair cut in a 90s style bob. She wore 80s pink track pants and a teal zip up hoodie with turtles on it. The second was a black lady, wearing a Donna Summer wig, brightly patterned Lularoe type leggings, a floppy hat, Jackie O sunglasses, and a t-shirt with a teddy bear on it that said “I woke up this cute.” They stopped on the ridge and smiled at me. I believe Charles announced they were halfway there. The one who woke up cute, gestured to me with her hand and said “Oh, well now I know we can do it. Look at you! You didn’t turn around. You didn’t just sit it out. Naw, look at you just doing it. You are an inspiration to me! I’m going to keep going. If you can make it, I KNOW I can.”
It took me a few seconds to feel the insult, the pandering, the condescension. Charles took my hand and we continued without talking. I was fuming silently, thinking about her words. After awhile, he broke the silence, “I wonder why she said you inspired her.” The simmering rage burst forth. What flowed from my mouth will not be presented verbatim. My paraphrased response was that she felt sorry for me and was amazed that someone of my age could make it up 1.2 miles.
He said, “but they were both older then us, I think.”
“I know,” I said, “but I also know I look older than I am.”
“Maybe it’s the stick,” he offered. “Maybe they thought it was a cane.”
“Lot’s of people are carrying walking sticks,” I said.
My rage burned. How dare she say that to me? How dare she treat me like a little old lady? Me, who has walked to the top of mountains, dove into caverns, swam with stingrays 90 feet below the ocean’s surface, spelunked through caves only inches larger that me, jumped out of a “perfectly good airplane” for God’s sake. How DARE she? I couldn’t decide whether to push Cute Lady off the falls or wait for her at the bottom and applaud her “amazing accomplishment” with loud surprise that she made it all the way.
The thing is, my legs felt strong on the climb. My glutes were performing the way they should. My body as a whole is in great shape. My heart, on the other hand, is just not pumping efficiently. Because the surgeon played it safe last year and only replaced one valve, my organs are not receiving the oxygen they need to do more than walk behind a shopping cart. My skin is not getting the oxygen it needs to look 60 instead of 80. I hope to fix that situation soon with another surgeon and another surgery. We can live days without water, weeks without food, but not even an hour without oxygen.
I eat right, exercise, don’t smoke or drink, or eat processed foods. I am 60 years old but in my heart (the one in my soul) I feel no older than 40. I’m angry that the heart in my chest is preventing me from doing all the things I want to do, at the speed I want to do them. I’m angry that my hopes for the present day were not realized last year with the expensive and risky surgery and the exhaustive recovery that followed.
After Laurel Falls, we drove to Clingman’s Dome to see the sunset. It was a half mile straight up (with no switch backs) to an altitude of 6,600 feet. The Appalachian Trail crosses over this path. I have always wanted to walk the Appalachian Trail. I even hoped I would be able to after last year’s surgery, but I could only stand on it and have my picture taken by the sign. Maybe next year, or next life.
It was very hard for me. I had to rest many times. Fortunately, we started early to allow for that. It was a paved climb and younger people jogged by us on the way up. My heart wept for a time when I would have jogged, too, paying no mind to the older people sitting on benches. I didn’t even think about how they felt. My, how age gives us perspective, a little too late to help anyone.
After reaching the top of the mountain, there was another several hundred feet climb up a ramp to the top of the Dome structure. There we waited for the sunset as the temperature dropped and the humidity rose. Clouds rolled in and covered us up. The sun peaked through the clouds and then hid again over the next hour. Little by little, disappointed people pronounced it too cold to stay and left (including, by the way, Cute Lady and her companion). Soon, it was just Charles and me with three optimistic couples half our age. The sunset was disappointing, but we enjoyed our time, conversing the with younger people about the thrill of travel; filled with hope for a sunset selfie.
I’m back home today and my anger has changed from rage to sadness, which is all it ever was anyway. Anger is usually hurt on the offensive. I know Cute Lady didn’t mean to hurt my feelings. I know she thought saying I was an inspiration was a compliment. Most people don’t know how their words will fall on another person. I am sad not about getting older, I am sad about being old. They are different. I am frustrated with not being able to do whatever I want, which is a privilege reserved for younger people who mostly can’t appreciate the privilege. If you can run, I say, you should run.
I’m doing everything I can to stay healthy as long as the Creator allows me to live. Whether I am 60 or 80, I want to feel good and have the freedom of mobility and fresh air. Being able to breathe is important. Appreciate it while you can still do it.
You two are such a beautiful couple!
Praying for you in your next surgery .
Hoping all goes well.
Thank you!