Skiing with a Ghost
Skiing with a Ghost
A year after the hospital, I get to ski again.
Hi Substack family,
I started skiing down the driveway as soon as I could walk. My dad met my mom on a chairlift. He was a ski patrol- and he literally picked her up when she fell on the slopes. Quite the snow Casanova.
But he was a challenging father. I’ve written about it in past posts. We did not have a good relationship. Or any relationship, in the end.
He passed in 2020.
In death, we are more connected than in life. Maybe you have relationships like this too.
Love, Tay
March 2023
The holidays are a cozy, cinnamon-filled glowy time. July loved the Christmas tree and was showered with gifts. We spent the days with family and traveled to Mexico to celebrate the new year with margaritas and beachwear.
When we got back, we traveled again to Utah with Zach for a gig where I finally returned to skiing. I was very intent on getting one day to ski. It felt like a survivor list item (as opposed to a bucket list) I needed to check off.
With July crawling around and coasting any piece of knotty pine furniture she could find, Zach and I traded off ski runs. So while one of us sat by the fire in the lodge, the other went up the mountain. Essentially, skiing alone together.
I was a bit nervous going out alone. Wondering if my legs were strong enough? I picked a large resort with lots of mid-level slopes to hopefully give myself a break.
As I rode up the mountain on the chair, I called upon my father, my ski-patrol angel, to keep me up and help me avoid catastrophe.
“Okay Dad, don’t let me fall,” I whispered into the wind at the top of the mountain.
The ski resort is massive and at times I was the only person on a slope.
I’d get speed and then try to slow down some, to stay in control. Every once in a while, I’d feel a wobble but I managed to recover my balance.
My legs were tired and I did feel heavier, and I’m sure my form was looser, but I had an exhilarating time.
The cold wind burns my cheeks and I turn and turn my way swiftly down the hill.
“Thanks Dad.”
I know I wasn’t alone that day really, riding down the white peaks. He was with me. Proud to see this piece of me return.
Skiing is just a series of turns. In the face of a challenge, you keep turning and pivoting and changing to suit the moment.
When I get to the top of the mountain, I think of Dr. Kind from the hospital. He was right, I did get back to skiing. He was annoyingly always right. I didn’t need to keep seeing Dr. Kind because my heart healed. I did run into him once at the hospital, giving him a hug, and snapping a quick photo for him to share with the surgery team. Afterwards, I only saw him once in a dream. He helped us pack up to escape an oncoming flood.
On top of the white snow glory of the mountain, I snap a selfie photo with a big wide smile.
“You were right. I am skiing this year, “ I wrote to him with pride.
I’ve come so far. And while I was alone on that mountain top- I knew I wasn’t really alone.
MORE ON TAYLOR’S FAMILY LIFE
If you’re new here and wondering, “what happened to this lady?” read:
I started writing this when I was on dialysis. It’s intended to be both memoir and a practical tool to help folks who might be going through something similar or those caregivers and family supporting someone with a challenging diagnosis. NOTE: This is not intended to replace actual medical guidance. Please consult your doctors on your individual challenges and situations. Please talk to your clinicians before adjusting any of your care protocols. Also names have been changed for most of my medical staff.
Thank you for becoming a new member, Isabel Ramirez-Burnett. Thanks for all the work you do in the patient-led care universe!
Thank you to Roy Lenn and Richard Burwick for your founding level donation.