Cindy and I hung a left off of Shepard Road, onto the woods road that brings you to Barbour Woods and the other Land Trust Trails. Each of us frequently walked and ran on these trails in the past. We do not travel these trails much anymore, because of the obstacles presented by a wooded path, but I had an ulterior motive.
We took the woods road down to near the Kilarney Bridge, now closed off with parts of the beautiful stone structure fallen into the stream below. A small, metal bridge traverses downstream; a practical solution albeit a little out of character with the woods road. From there we followed a trail back towards what we call Davidson’s Rock, with its spectacular view of the dammed, flood control fields below and Haystack Mountain (more “haystack” than mountain) beyond.
At first when Cindy stumbled along this path we both laughed. That’s one leg up Cindy has on her condition; she always engaged in self-deprecating humor about her coordination, an affliction for which she acquired a shared pride with her daughter Charissa. However, as she continued to stumble on this root or that rock the laughs turned into an exasperated frown, but still with a hint of her good nature. Alas, before we reached Davidson’s rock I could see the quivering of her lips. I gave her a hug and the floodgates opened.
Cindy’s love for walking in the woods predates me, going back to her teenage years and treasured walks with her dogs. Whereas a windy traverse over an exposed ridge suits me perfectly, a walk in the calming woods was Cindy’s tonic. Only now such a walk is no longer calming. The loss this must make her feel, whether consciously or subconsciously, must be tremendous.
Fortunately, Davidson’s Rock has a way of healing the soul; plus, here was where I could pursue my ulterior motive. Walking as a caregiver activity is good for many things: bonding, meditation, sunshine. At this point, however, walking with Cindy no longer provides adequate exercise for this caregiver. Lately I’ve been feeling the effects of this, a decrease in health, an increase in headaches. Granted, I let the diet slip a little bit but, beyond that, I’m just not getting enough exercise.
Davidson’s Rock provides such a spectacular view precisely because it lies atop a steep, open slope. With Cindy sitting on the rock I could do hill reps, running up the grassy slope with her in view the whole time. Not that I had to worry about her taking off anywhere; added to the engaging view was the spectacle of a middle-aged man huffing and puffing his way towards her.
At the top of each hill rep I counted out the number I was on as I dragged myself towards Cindy for the last couple of steps. I gave her a kiss each time while pretending to collapse on her … um, maybe half pretending. After three reps I asked Cindy if I needed to do a couple more. She smiled and giggled. I pretended that meant “yes,” and declared: “OK, but if I drop dead it’s your fault!” … to which she laughed all the harder. Her problems with the wood path was left far behind. That’s the advantage with Alzheimer’s.
Mission accomplished, I’d say. Upon our return home I noticed my BO was off the charts. That’s a good sign. When one has been long dormant the first vigorous exercise releases stored up toxins. With regular, vigorous exercise the BO gets better … or should I say less bad.
We visited Davidson’s Rock again two days later, then two days after that, using a shorter and better woods path. The change in health and headaches with this new regimen has been noticeable. For now this strategy provides Cindy the regular benefits of walking while I get the “moderate to vigorous” exercise proven to be needed for better health.
Why do we call that spot Davidson’s Rock, you ask (go ahead, ask me)? Around the same time as the health problems my brother Ernie experienced with a brain aneurysm, which led to a 62 day hospital stay, Karen Davidson was dealing with cancer. Both are members of our church, prayer circles were formed for both, both are two of the nicest people you could ever meet.
Karen went to “Davidson’s Rock” on a regular basis, absorbing the healing stillness and view. Alas, Davidson’s Rock can heal the soul but not the body. My brother made it through his near experience with death, Karen did not.
I bring this up because I bristle whenever someone suggests that prayer works for extending the quantity of one’s life. Ernie absolutely deserved a longer life, but so did Karen. So does Cindy. Neither prayer nor God works that way, to grant requests or ensure fairness. This needs to be understood. I have observed people praying for Cindy to be healed right in front of her; reducing her to tears as her affliction and unsatisfactory condition is made evident. Unfortunately, Alzheimer’s never has been conquered by prayer or miracles. If God’s job was to insure fairness for all, He’s failed miserably.
Prayer works, God works, not by taking requests or ensuring fairness, but by enhancing the quality of our life in those times when we need extra guidance and/or comfort. This is one of those times. I’m taking full responsibility for the quantity of my life through sadistic hill reps and other means, but I welcome the extra guidance and comfort. Pray for us if you will, but pray for the laughs and hugs to continue, for God’s guidance and comfort to continue, no matter what we face ahead.
Blessings and more blessings upon you and Cindy and thank you for the clarification of how God might hear and react to our prayers. He never allows; he never lets; he is just here, to guide and comfort if that’s what we need.