Another excerpt

Here is another excerpt from my book. This is the “post-stroke” section where I am completely content and happy, it  takes place about 9 months after everything happened. I am on a white water rafting trip with my friends, and am somewhat nervous about my strength (or lack of) and being able to make it down successfully…

 

We jump in the boat and are ready for our adventure down the river. Each of us is wearing a wet suit (very sexy), life jacket, wind-breaker, and awesomely geeky helmets, and we look like a bunch of excited twelve year olds. Jessie and Ben sit comfortably in the back, Shannon and Jesse (Niki’s little sister) take the middle, and I’m sitting up front with Chad, placed there by the guide, and am exceedingly nervous. The two in the front are responsible for leading the raft and setting the pace for paddling. I haven’t, and probably won’t, tell our guide about my stroke. This is my challenge. The water is at a ten year high and the guide warns us that the river is extremely dangerous at this level. Last week an elderly man died on the river.

We set out and at first I’m amazed at the ease that we maneuver our way down the river, passing each of the rapids with ease. We all smile and high-five and joke about Chad falling out. The guide tells us that this area is the part that the kids are allowed to go on and our part is coming up. No more joking. To the right, we see all of the children and their parents get out of the river. They all have big, jovial smiles on their faces. A little further down the river we see rocks and water flying everywhere, as if we’re paddling into a giant blender and we’re the main ingredient. Excitement takes over. We enter the chaos and we all get hit with water, all paddle furiously to avoid the giant rocks, and all laugh as Chad and I swallow copious amounts of water. The water is terrifyingly cold, fresh snow run-off that doesn’t let us rest and take our mind of what it would be like to end up outside of the raft, swimming.

“Forward two” Screams Andy, our guide. And we all take two giant paddles, passing just inches past another giant boulder. “Back Left Two!” And the chaos continues. It is wonderful.

 The river is a microcosm of my life, rapid after rapid, challenge after challenge. The river never ends. My struggle never ends. I have two choices; continue on and continue to fight, or let the river win, fall out and let the river take me, let life win. It’s weird how life presents these little challenges amongst the larger ones, as if to say “if you pass this, you can go on.” I let out a laugh and dig into the river with more gusto than I can handle. Months ago I couldn’t even move half of my body and now that half is kicking ass. We crash over another rock, dipping and diving, the raft spins so that I am sideways and the first thing headed down the river. More water to the face.  My grip on my paddle intensifies as the guide yells commands from the back of the raft, like a sergeant leading us through battle. More water in the face. Spit. Wipe the water out of my eyes only to see more coming my way.

“Forward Two!” yells our sergeant. “Three more!” And we paddle on. “Almost there!”

 My muscles ache and my bones are chilled to the core. It all feels so amazingly good though that I want more. We crash through the last of the rapids in this section of the river (there will be plenty more rapids later, I’m sure), and I’m actually a little upset that the chaos couldn’t continue. Such is life.

 As we come out of the rapids and the anarchy and into a small clearing where the water slows and calms, I am no longer upset. A wave of calmness rushes over me. Once again I am like the river. I get a very euphoric high. I’m right where I want to be in life. I can see through the water towards the bottom. It is clear, still, and serene. The sun breaks through the once overcast clouds and spreads a little joy; it glistens off the water like a million tiny angels doing the work of god. The whole crew stops paddling, they sense the stillness too. I am soaked. I am breathing hard. I have a ridiculous child-like smile on my face. Not child-like, more infant-like. True, genuine, beautiful. It reminds me that no matter what happens, no matter what rapids and rocks and chaos I hit in life, there will always be a clearing.