Loveland and A-Basin are both open for skiing. It seems a little odd, given that it's only October 9th, but the fact that chair lifts are running makes the end of the Rifle season seem a little more appropriate. I've been climbing there for what seems like about 15 straight weekends, with plenty of weekday sessions thrown in for good measure, and, to be entirely honest, I welcome the break. That's not to say that I won't want to be back projecting the choss in a few weeks, but taking a breather from the three hour drive and the exhausted Sunday night/Monday morning combo should do me some good.
To be fair, I've had an INSANELY fun season. I spent a lion's share of the time climbing with All-Stars. Teaming up to climb with friends seems like it's a no-brainer, but Rifle lends itself to plenty of time spent scumming belays from anyone you can find. I was pretty lucky this year, because I seemingly always had a supportive, fun crew around who were psyched to climb during the days and then cook great food, and talk about interesting subjects around the campfire. I know what crimps feel like. Heel-hooks? Yeah, sick, brah. But getting to know the details of teaching a room full of third graders, some basics about computer programming, and the pitfalls of managing multimillion dollar portfolios is a lot more compelling. Thanks, Team A+.
Recent developments at home have left me feeling happy for some local time, too. My mom got pretty sick last week and ended up in and out of the hospital, first in Paris while she was on vacation with my sister Megan, and then back at St. Joseph's in Denver when they got home. It's a strange feeling to watch a parent fade into a shell of themselves and wonder if they might be dying. Fortunately, the health woes seem to have been caused by dehydration a reaction to several medications. For the first half a day or so, we weren't sure what was going on, and as one of her physician coworkers said, "it's either something like a drug reaction or a brain tumor." Brain tumor? That's not exactly how I was spending my autumn with my mom. That it turned out to be a pretty casual health issue is fortunate, but certainly acts as a warning not to take for granted those who you love. And for me, it was a good reminder to spend a few days with them now and then.
When she was still in the ER at St. Joe's, my sisters and I took turns sitting by her bed and watching the hysteria that can typify the ward. There were nurses and doctors everywhere, and at this point we weren't entirely sure of what was going on with our mom. Trying to stay calm and not grab anyone in scrubs and scream into their face, "What the fuck is going on with Mama Sus?" was a chore.
Besides the employees, there are plenty of patients with their own dramatic issues. A priest walked somberly into the adjacent room to deliver an elderly woman her last rites as the dying woman's daughter sobbed in the hall. It's hard not to get at least marginally attached to a stranger's plight when a man in a collar is involved. With walls made of fabric, it's easy to eavesdrop. You can imagine my relief, two fold, when I asked my mom what happened to her neighbor.
"Oh hell, she was just having nicotine withdrawal. She forgot her patch."
"Estelle" would live to fight another day, and that my mom's sense of humor was coming back showed that she was getting better, too. Thank god she could laugh about it, because the scene was pretty grim. After a few days on an I.V. and some positively atrocious hospital food, she's back on the mend. She was stuck on the renal diet because the dehydration threatened her kidneys, and the look on my mom's face when they denied her even fruit and cottage cheese, instead providing plain green beans, was maybe the saddest thing I saw the entire time she was in the ER. I felt like a criminal, but I covertly provided a few medjool dates so she had something sweet to gnaw on. Now that she's out, the food has improved dramatically, and so has her energy.
So as the summer winds down, take some time to share with people you care about. I'm glad I'll get another chance to do so.
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