Best Laid Plans

We were looking to carry on a new tradition this year on the date of our anniversary, September 19. Last year on that date I took Cindy to the top of Dennis Hill in the adult stroller. Our daughter Charissa with her husband Matt met us on top, delivering a picnic with food ordered from Woodcreek Pub and Grill. This September I planned a return outing to Dennis Hill, turning the event into an ongoing tradition.

Sometimes the fates conspire relentlessly against you. The conspiracy against the Dennis Hill tradition began on the auspicious date of September 11, when I was to donate blood to the Red Cross. For weeks my BP has been down where it should be; I was guardedly optimistic that my diastolic would meet the requirement for donation. On the other hand, I have white coat syndrome; my blood pressure is elevated by the anticipation of being monitored.

White coat syndrome won out on that day. I scheduled another appointment for September 17, two days before our anniversary. Pushing a stroller up to the top of Dennis Hill would be difficult if I succeeded at donating blood just two days prior. I made the first mental adjustment to our new “tradition,” by planning an outing to the ballfield instead.

On September 14 the frame of our adult stroller broke. I immediately sent a message to the manufacturer, Adaptive Star. Though their response was great I would need to wait for a new frame to be shipped. I could carry Cindy in my arms for a fair distance, but not to the ballfield, not after donating blood two days earlier. I started thinking in terms of having an anniversary celebration on our own lawn.

I understand the problem with planning an outdoor anniversary picnic as an ongoing tradition. Cindy now has been in hospice care for eighteen months. Such longevity has an indefinite feel. As long as her will to live thrives she could go on indefinitely, but probability suggests the tradition could be short lived. As a practical matter I intended to invite our long distance hiker community to the picnic in addition to our family.

We have a group page for announcements to our long distance hiker community, but I could not make an announcement until I knew where. I could not announce where until I knew the status of both my blood donation and broken stroller. On Thursday, September 17, the blood donation was successful while the frame was just then being shipped. I finally announced our anniversary plan for Saturday, to be held on our own lawn.

A two day notice is not much, but turned out to be too soon. I knew for days that Saturday was to be cool, in the zone where bringing Cindy outside depended on the wind chill. On Saturday morning I awoke to a forecast of high winds. Since our hiking friends did not have much notice anyways, I did not hesitate to cancel the invite in the eleventh hour.

I could make the theme of this “a series of unfortunate events,” but that would be misleading. If temperatures in the fifties with steady winds in double digits would be too cold for a lawn picnic, they certainly would have been too cold on top of Dennis Hill. Just a single factor, not a whole series, would have derailed our best laid plan.

I could make the theme of this “you can’t always get what you want but … you get what you need.” We still celebrated our anniversary indoors with family. For most of that time Cindy was fairly impassive, as she often is these days. Yet there were times she looked attentively in the direction of Lyla, our new granddaughter. How much recognition or perception was there in her gaze? I cannot answer that, but I know she paid more attention to Lyla than she would have to our hiking community, extremely dear to us that they may be.

Two years ago our family gathering would mean our three children. This year that number doubled with Charissa’s husband Matt, daughter Lyla and Serena’s fiance Enoch joining us on FaceTime. We got what we needed in terms of a special anniversary gathering, but there is something more to the theme.

Though both Cindy and I felt closer to our long distance hiker friends over any other community, there is no lineage involved in that belonging. There was no preceding community that gave rise to us long distance hikers. When the last of us pass away there will be no community to which ours “gave birth.”

Gathering around Cindy’s hospital bed, in our makeshift combo bedroom/living room, our family lineage hit home. My best laid plan went astray for Cindy, but we have family. Some day one of our children’s best laid plans for me will go astray, but they will have family. Some day Lyla will have a best laid plan go astray for her mother, but she will have family.

The best laid plans of caregivers often go astray. The series of unfortunate events, or single event, that thwarts our plans changes with the ongoing situation and times. What does not change for fortunate caregivers is the presence of family. May the circle be unbroken.

PS: The frame came for the stroller and it is fixed!