A few months ago, we bought a treadmill. I was intrigued by the advertisements for virtual destinations one could take. So I signed up for a tour of the Ring of Kerry in Ireland from the good people at The Conqueror. It was approximately 125 miles and I accomplished it, giving myself credit not only for actual treadmill work but also for the normal and everyday activity that is measured in steps by my AppleWatch. When completed I received a medal for my efforts. Pretty cool for a Parkie who walks like a drunken sailor half the time if you ask me.
So a couple weekends ago I signed up for another one I’ve had my eye on. This one is the Camino de Santiago, a 476-mile spiritual journey across Spain with the group Camino for Good. You can check it out here.
On Monday I had a doctor’s appointment. Lately I have been “drifting off” during the day at odd times, like in the middle of conversations with friends, while watching television, or sitting at my computer. Maybe it’s narcolepsy, maybe it’s a series of small seizures or strokes, maybe it’s my medications, maybe it’s lack of sleep, maybe it’s — well, who knows at this point. And when it happened while driving I knew it was time to see a doctor and I had a pretty good suspicion what the doctor was going to do while we sorted everything out — restrict my driving or recommend I not drive. I got the official notice from the California DMV yesterday suspending my privileges altogether.
So, in the span of less than twenty-four hours, I found myself going from embarking on a spiritual virtual journey across the Iberian peninsula to being unable to legally physically drive to the supermarket a couple of blocks away.
I understand where the doctor was coming from — believe me, I get it and I would fully support such a decision once it is established as medically necessary — but it sucks. It sucks big time.
Now when writing a post such as this, one has choices in what featured image to use. Do I attach a screed against my doctors or the faceless bureaucrats of the DMV? How about something that complains about my lot in life, or the fact that I have a disease for which there is no cure that will progressively get worse and eventually kill me?
Well, the choice I made should hopefully say something about my state of mind as I enter what might be a temporary or permanent new stage. More about all of this down the road …