The Protector. Dr. Death. Dad.

My parents always loved to travel, and that greatly influenced my love for travel, as well as my entire perspective on life. The past 7 months--as a pandemic ravages the country and interstate travel has become difficult, never mind traveling to different countries--have only reminded me how important travel is to my life. The lack of it has left a massive hole. 

I realize that is a very privileged position, and I've always been grateful for my ability to travel. When I was 11 or 12 years old, my parents took my brother, myself, and our golden retriever Tuffy on a cross country trip in our black Chevy Astro van, with a pop-up camper trailing behind. Even as a kid, I knew this was a special experience. How many kids, or adults for that matter, get to see the majority of the country? We saw the amber waves of grain in the great plains of the Midwest, to the purple majesty of the mountains of the West, which really weren't that purple but were definitely majestic, and back through the Appalachians. It's truly a beautiful country, and the trip game me a perspective on it that not many people ever get. 

 

We stayed at my parents' friends some nights, and in our pop-up camper others. For a couple nights, we stayed in Yellowstone National Park. You don't get an appreciation for its size and beauty (majestic!) unless you see it in person. Of course, nature can be as dangerous as it is breathtakingly beautiful. Many other campers who were sleeping in tents hung food up in trees because there were more bears than usual that year. I was never happier for the hard plastic doors of our camper, even though a hungry Grizzly would have made light work of those, too. 

One afternoon, it was really hot, and we drove past a lake. There was a spot on the road where you could pull over and park, so we did. A man and woman were swimming in the lake. They left as we arrived, and I remember them saying, "the water is refreshing". Nothing more. 

When we parked, Tuffy ran out of the van and into the lake. He always loved to swim. My brother and I followed him in. The water at the edge of the lake was cool and clean, but there was a lot of undergrowth; thick weeds and long grass. After a few minutes. Tuffy got out of the water, and my dad spotted some dark spots on him. 

My dad called out to us, "Guys, you have to come in now." We walked out of the water, wondering what was wrong. Then I looked down. There were dark lumps all over my body. 

LEECHES!

Disgusting, slimy, blood sucking leeches! And they were all over me! There were a bunch on my torso, and I immediately thought about where else they might be. If you've seen Stand By Me, you know exactly where my mind was going. 

I just knew there was gonna be a giant leech right on my most sensitive and private of parts. Besides the horror of a disgusting slug clinging to my skin and stealing my precious life blood, I really didn't want my first sexual contact to be with a leech!   

I was almost immediately in shock. I didn't say a word, I just ran to the van, hoping someone would do something. My dad, sensing my growing inner hysteria, very calmly told me to get in the van. I couldn't bring myself to pull the leeches off. I didn't want to touch them (even though, technically I already was). I didn't know if they'd pull my skin off or leave a bruise or what. Maybe I'd pull them off and they'd be stuck to my fingers, then I'd try to pull them off with my other hand and that would get stuck too. It was probably the first instance of complete panic in my young life. 

So as I stood in the back of the van, freaking out and imagining these lake slugs getting fatter by the second as they slurped my blood, my dad gently but firmly pulled them off my skin. 

To this day, I can clearly hear the loud "Slurrrrrp...popppp!" as he pulled them off my skin. I absolutely made that up, but still, I can hear it. 

He started on my back, as I looked down to check my front. Sure enough, there was a big one right on my crotch...on the outside of my bathing suit. Phew. I could handle that. Just burn the bathing suit, no problem. I slowly pulled the front of my suit down and peeked inside.

Nothing. The panic started to subside. 

My dad pulled the rest of the slimy leeches off me. I don't know how long it took, probably no more than 30 seconds, but there was a range of changing emotions that I 'd never experienced. From happiness at swimming in a lake in one of the most beautiful areas on Earth, to terror at the thought of a permanent slug hickey on my penis, to complete relief when the last leech was pulled off and I hadn't passed out or been left with any scars. At least physically.

My dad's calming nature was all that got me through. As a kid, I was mostly calm and collected, but like any kid, I had outbursts of emotion every now and then. I had never really felt panic or that amount of fear before, though. If I had known how easy they came off, I probably wouldn't have been so scared, but that was the power of River Phoenix's acting I guess. The only reason I didn't really lose it was that I knew I was safe. I had a protector. 

I don't want to deify my dad. He's a person. He has faults. He gets frustrated. He makes mistakes. But none of that lessens him. It shows that all humans have the capacity for greatness. Nobody will be perfect at all times, but how you respond in difficult moments or situations defines your character. Many are unable or unwilling to step up in difficult situations and do difficult things, which makes those who are willing and able to do so that much more impressive. 

At one point, my family referred to my dad as Dr. Death. I know that seems counter to everything I just said, but it was name that reflected his compassion. Whenever a pet needed to be put down, the family called him. Putting down a beloved pet is one of the most difficult things to do, but when they have reached a point where there is no real quality of life, putting them down is the most merciful thing to do. That doesn't make it any easier. And it doesn't feel right letting a doctor or technician do it. As Candy in Of Mice and Men said about his dog, "I oughta shot that dog myself. I shouldn't a let no stranger shoot my dog." We should be with our pets in their last moments, sending them off to that big open field full of tennis balls and treats in the sky. Letting them go, freeing them from their pain, is an expression of love. But still...it's hard. And if it was too hard, call Ken. He can handle it, just like he handles any difficult situation: with love and compassion. 

I can think of no more difficult situation than what my parents have gone through in the past few years. My mom has Parkinson's, but my dad has suffered from it as well. He has watched the woman he loves, his wife of 52 years, deteriorate in front of his eyes. I still have trouble with that. It breaks my heart daily. We all get older and lose some of our functions and capabilities, so at some point we all watch the ones we love get older and deteriorate, but Parkinson's is not a natural deterioration. It is a vicious attack on the mind and body. She went from walking fine to needing a cane, then a walker, to permanently in a wheelchair in a matter of 4 years. After a scary incident that left her in a coma and led to a lengthy hospital stay 3 years ago, the disease has attacked her mind as well. Through all the shaking and pain and eventually the inability to walk, she had always been mentally sharp. Now, she has moments of clarity but she also has moments where she's lost in a delusion. Those moments are getting longer. 

She's confused a lot, which causes her stress, and her inability to do things physically only adds to the mental strain. It's an awful cycle that feeds on itself. She continues to fight, and she is an inspiration, but she couldn't do it alone. Just like I couldn't handle those leeches on my own. 

Parkinson's has proven to be much more harmful and tenacious than any leech, but my dad hasn't stopped trying to protect my mom from it, just as he protected me.

I don't need him to protect me anymore, but I do feel safer knowing he's there. Through his actions, he's always taught me that we do whatever it takes to protect those we love. 

Sometimes, when I see my friend's parents, many of whom are the same age as my parents, I get jealous and sad because they are enjoying their golden years. It's not fair that my parents don't get to travel around the world, relax at their beach house, visit their grandkids whenever they want. It's unfair that my dad has to be a fulltime nurse and can't go golfing whenever he wants. It's unfair that my mom can't go for a simple walk or spend a quiet evening reading a book. It's unfair that I can't have a conversation with her without her eventually getting confused or forgetful. 

But many people my age have lost a parent, or both. Many people have life threatening or life changing diseases. That's life, the most unfair game in town. The only game in town. Sometimes you live your life helping others and going to church and raising your kids the best you can, and you end up with a debilitating brain disorder anyways. Sometimes you go on an incredible vacation and jump in a beautiful lake on a sunny day and end up covered in disgusting leeches. 

If you're lucky, you have people in your life to help you pull them off. 

I've always had that, and I'm forever grateful. 

I Love You All...Class Dismissed.