You all know I love the beach. The colors, the sun, the warmth, the water, the sand, the sounds, the possibilities of adventure, I love everything about the beach.
But I learned something more about myself this week.
A week ago today I went to the plastic surgeon and, after 12 weeks from my first surgery, during which I was prohibited from submerging myself in any water, he pronounced himself done with me and cleared me to go into water again. My incisions had finally healed to the point where he no longer warned me that if I went into the water, especially the Gulf of Mexico, I risked exposing myself to flesh eating bacteria and the possibility of death. I got the message. I know that none of us get out of here alive, but flesh-eating bacteria isn’t my exit of choice if I had anything to say about it.
Randy and I met at a summer cottage in northern Wisconsin. The appeal of that place, where my family vacationed every summer of my childhood, was the water and the myriad of fun things involving water. We always had a boat, and we swam and water skied from morning till night. At one point my Dad rigged the boat, named The Big Toy, to pull 6 skiers at once. Didn’t matter that the boat wasn’t nearly powerful enough to pull 6 skiers out of the water, even if they were all kids and all pretty decent skiers. Dad was as inventive as Randy is (they say women marry men like their fathers….in many ways I certainly did) and there was rarely any problem he wouldn’t try to solve. Dad and his brother figured out a way to use the power of both their boats to actually pull the skiers up out of the water, and then release Uncle Harold’s boat so the skiers only had to contend with one boat pulling them.
Gosh, I clearly remember the summer we did that. I think we 6 skiers were in the water for hours while Dad and Uncle Harold tinkered with the set-up, tried and failed to get us up, made some adjustments, then tried and failed again and again. Finally, all 6 of us popped up out of the water. It was a glorious sight more than 50 years ago that is still a legendary story and matter of family pride.
The moment someone fell though, the rest of us were supposed to let go of our rope and join the downed skier in the water. The plan was for the skiers to group together and the boat would come back and pull us up again. Of course, Uncle Harold and his boat were hovering because we couldn’t do it without him. But now, we had the added complication that there were 6 tangled ski ropes that took quite a while to straighten out.
We changed the game plan and if one skier dropped off, he or she just had to wait where they dropped for the ride to be over. And the ride wasn’t over until all the skiers dropped, or Dad got tired of driving the boat. Our skin was wrinkled like prunes, and we were sunburnt to a crisp (in 1962 sunscreen had a protection factor of 2 and wasn’t waterproof), but golly, we were in heaven on earth when we were in the water at Keyes Lake in northern Wisconsin.
Randy and I often had a hot tub in homes we owned, but we preferred the water to be less than hot. When we lived in Folsom, California, we built a pool in the yard of the house we owned. I remember coming home from my high stress job on the executive team of an insurance company. Getting in the pool and allowing the water to calm and soothe was better than any other stress-relieving technique I’ve ever found. Later, in Missouri, we designed outdoor living areas in our two homes to be staycation resorts with inexpensive, above ground pools.
I never thought about how much being in water was critical to my mental health until I was restricted from it. What I originally thought would be 3 weeks where I couldn’t submerge turned into 12. And that time has been an ordeal for me. I didn’t consciously feel stressed about it all, but my blood pressure the last 6 weeks or so has been through the roof. Last week at my plastic surgery check up it was 223/103. I made an appointment the following day with my primary care physician to discuss it.
My doctor and her staff couldn’t have been more caring about my health. Both the nurse and my doctor explained that regardless of how much I think I wasn’t stressed mentally, my BODY has been stressed in the 6 months since my cancer diagnosis. Instead of pushing more blood pressure medication on me, Dr. S suggested I get back in the water, resume a more normal (pre-diagnosis and weekly medical visit) day-to-day life, and keep a record of my blood pressure. Then, after 6 weeks, we’d see where my blood pressure landed and if I needed to make some adjustments.
I came home that afternoon and for the first time in 12 weeks, dove into the pool and let the water carry away the stress and calm me in a way that only water can. I felt reborn as I lay there, floating on my back, soaking up a lot of natural Vitamin D…completely and totally at peace and revitalized in a way I’d forgotten I needed. I know that sounds melodramatic, but it was such an acute, physical sensation that it was melodramatic, and eye-opening, for me.
The water, not just the beach, is my happy place.
P.S. My blood pressure is already back down to a more normal level.
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