Dear Christine and Renee.

I expected to enjoy my time on this journey with Britton but I can’t say that I expected him to be such a delightful traveling companion. Kind, thoughtful, and patient. He is beyond his years. I know that we are barely into this trip but I think that I am seeing Britton at his core, the person he is and will be.

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The flight from Kansas City to Atlanta was nondescript but pleasant. The trip from Atlanta to Paris was excellent as we were treated to high class accommodations.

 

There was plenty of room to stretch out, real food, real silverware, and real wine for me, Sprite for Britton. I fear that I may have spoiled him to the point that he will no longer be satisfied flying economy coach.

 

The “fly in the ointment” was discovered when I looked on my Delta App and saw that my bag was happily onboard, traveling with us across the Atlantic. Britton‘s bag took an unscheduled detour. I felt my anxiety rise and expressed my concern to Britton. He merely shrugged his shoulders and said that since there was nothing we could do about it at the moment, why worry. Amazing at only 15! 

Ultimately, I was able to secure enough information and contact the necessary authorities to arrange for a departure of the errant bag on the next flight to Paris, and then to Biarritz. With luck it will arrive before noon today. We will have to travel to the airport to retrieve it, €50 round-trip by taxi. I understand that Delta will pay compensation.

Last night neither Britton nor I felt particularly hungry after the stress of 20 hours of nonstop travel, but we forced ourselves to find a bite and a drink. What we found was a delightful nightlife at street-side restaurants where tapas were the order of the night.

 

 

We enjoyed four different tapas: spicy potatoes, roasted red peppers in sauce, ham and cheese croquettes, and blood sausage with a raw egg yolk.

 

All were new to Britton and he certainly found his appetite! Me too. Mineral water for Britton, an excellent wine for me, and we closed with dessert.

 

There are some very deep pockets in this town, and we overheard an order being placed for €5000 bottle of wine (about $5,500.00)! 

A hot shower and comfortable beds were the welcome finish to what had been an arduous day.

Love to both of you. Peace. Dad

PS. We just got a call from the airport. The bag has arrived! 

Our Hotel.

Written at Biarritz, France, 7 June. 

A few more pictures from Biarritz:

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Dear Christine and Renee.

I am writing this the Sunday before Britton and I depart for our trek across Spain. I have timed it so that you will be reading it sometime while we are flying over the Atlantic. I find my thoughts drawn to each of you, and of course to him. There are others, the loving hands that reach through to give me strength and a nurturing spirit. I am consciously coming to grips with the responsibility of watching over and caring for one of the dearest treasures that life has given you as Mother and Grandmother.

We are not “islands”, disconnected from the line of our ancestors. We are the product of genetics which determines our height, eye color, hair color… and those other things which decide what we look like. To an extent, genetics also determines personality, but here we have some self-determination. I have never learned to overcome my wanderlust, but I have chosen to embrace my emotions. I willingly recognize the “female” side of my humanness.

I feel the touch of my Mother and my Grandmother.

I sense the touch of Christine upon you Renee,

…My touch upon you…

…And your touch upon Britton.

We are not isolated islands, but an endless archipelago, a family chain of individuals linked by the love and caring of preceding generations.

There has been much said about what an extraordinary experience I am providing to Britton. However, in giving a measure I am receiving back a greater measure. (Luke 6:38)

Please understand that each of you, in trusting, have given me and him this gift.
Thank you. Peace, Dad.

PS. June 6, over the Atlantic. Three of us are having a really nice flight. Britton, me, and my bag. Unfortunately, Britton’s bag decided to spend an extra day in Atlanta. Hopefully it will catch up to us tomorrow. 

Britton and his Great Grandfather, William “Bill” Nichols (1918-2020).

Written in Kansas City, May 19, 2024.

In 2022, with only 18 days to my departure to walk the Portuguese Coastal route of the Camino de Santiago, my 3rd journey on the Camino, I mused in a post, “Is it an Adventure?” . I concluded that “Adventures are things typically out of the ordinary. They present aspects of risk, challenge, and uncertainty.” Adventures are defined by the abilities of the participant. A walk to the mailbox is hardly an adventure for most people, but the term certainly qualified in the context of my 100+ year old father-in-law, may he rest in peace.

Again, I find myself looking to the future with 18 days to departure for my 4th Camino and I am confronted with the same question. At 500+ miles this is a longer Camino, I will be gone 6 weeks, and I will be accompanied by and responsible for Britton, my 15-year-old grandson. In my mind each of those factors qualifies this as an “adventure”.

However, l am not a stranger to long trips in Spain, this will be my 4th journey on the Camino, and Britton is a kind, thoughtful and delightful companion. Yes, it will be an interpersonal “adventure” for both of us, but…

What makes the coming journey really an adventure is a difficulty that is of fairly recent origin. About 6 months ago I began experiencing discomfort and stiffness upon waking in the morning. It was across my lower back and radiated down my right leg. Tylenol, and 30 minutes of yoga/stretching and I was good for the day.

Unfortunately, the problem has persisted and increased to the point that a couple of weeks ago I sought out a chiropractor that accepted Medicare. A few adjustments coupled with therapeutic massage sessions have been helpful, but no cure.

Last week I visited an orthopedic surgeon and the University of Kansas Medical Center. “I wish you had given me more than 3 weeks!” was his initial remark. (You and me both!)

He and previously the Chiropractor gave me a list of descriptors to describe the pain. 8-9 on a scale of 10 upon rising out of bed… burning, aching, stabbing, throbbing… “Yep, that pretty much describes it.” says I. X-rays were ordered and the results not encouraging:

Severe degenerative disc disease with mild retrolisthesis at L5-S1. No instability between flexion and extension. Severe lower lumbar facet arthropathy.

The doctor recommended that I continue working with the Chiropractor and Massage Therapist, continue the stretching/yoga, and he prescribed a much stronger NSAID to replace the Ibuprofen and Tylenol that I had been using. He also prescribed a course of oral steroids to reduce inflammation. We are scheduled to meet again the morning after I return from Spain.

In the meantime, once I loosen up the pain is down to a “3” and manageable. Walking is actually good for this condition. Whether or not this much walking is “therapeutic” remains to be seen.

Yes, this will be an adventure. I may arrange periodic transport of my pack and perhaps resort to the occasional transport of my person. But it will definitely be an adventure in ways that I wish it were not.

Hell, aging is an adventure, and as I am learning not for the faint of heart.

Peace Everyone, and Buen Camino! Pete

Some of you are aware that I periodically assemble and print my posts into large format full color books. These are not for general distribution but are given to our children (and to our parents when they were alive) as a record of our post-retirement lives.

I am currently working on the 8th Volume, A “Speedbump” in Our Retirement Highway, We Pause to Face Mortality. When completed these 8 books will total over 1,500 pages. Whether or not appreciated during our life, I am more assured that they will be cherished when we are gone. Normally the “Foreword” to each volume is not shared publicly. However, I thought it appropriate to share this one:

Foreword to Volume 8

Dear Children, Grandchildren, and someday Great-Grandchildren.

At birth (actually a few months before birth), Fate assigns us a finite number of heartbeats. Rarely do we consider the “finite” in that statement as we blithely live our lives as if there will be no end. But the truth is that the number of heartbeats is ever in decline and will never be more than the beat that is occurring at this second.

About 35 years ago a routine annual physical and blood test revealed that I had a significant genetic condition that would end my life within 5 years. There was no cure.

Dr. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross declared that there are 5 stages of grief and dying: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. I was not in denial as I accepted the diagnosis and started notifying family members and co-workers. However, my thoughts and actions were purely from my head and not my heart. The emotional fallout had not yet occurred.

I elected to get a second opinion and found that the University of Utah specialized in testing for the diagnosed condition. They forwarded testing vials and instructions and I arranged for the blood to be drawn through my doctor’s office.

The return of test results took about a month. It was a month that found me and Christine contemplating a more limited life going forward, with me suffering a steady decline in health, activity, ability, and ultimately an early death. There were discussions about life in family Schloss without me. Still, the discussions were largely “academic” and not at a gut emotional level, but they were moving in that direction.

Even with a perceived future that would not see me to age 50, the finiteness of life did not grip my soul. Oh, the results of the special blood test from the University of Utah established that the first test was a false positive. Life was still finite, but I again had license to pretend otherwise. So it goes.

Fast forward to 2023. The year began with the excitement of travel and shared experiences with Christine, family, and friends. The year ended in much the same way. However, between those highpoints there was a very deep and dark valley.

I voluntarily underwent surgery on June 2nd to treat a worsening life-long tremor. An electrode was implanted in my brain, connected to a device in my chest that would counter the erratic nerve impulses issuing from the thalamus on the left side of my brain. By all accounts the surgery went well and I was released from the hospital the following day.

On June 7th I suffered a sudden hemorrhage in the left hemisphere thalamus of my brain. I found myself immediately confronted with the inability to walk and talk as most people do. Unlike my response to the false diagnosis of 35 years past, on June 7th the horizon of my life had suddenly shrunk to “now”. The future was concealed by an impenetrable mist of the unknown. It was terrifying. Sleep often eluded me as I lay in bed feeling the walls and ceiling closing in on me. At times I felt the air being sucked out of the room. These were physical manifestations of the emotional shock I was enduring. Through it all Christine was a master of calm and understanding. She accepted me wholly as I was regardless of whether this was who I would now always be.

Unlike 35 years ago, the emotional impact I suffered in June, 2023 did not allow for any “what if” discussions. We were too consumed with the immediate confrontation of our mortality. “In sickness and in health… until death do us part” were no longer vague insubstantial promises that looked infinitely into the future, they were the definition of our “now”.

As you will see in these posts, there was a silver lining. The surgeon explained that a brain bleed is a rare complication of the surgery, but in her considerable experience it only occurs at or near the time of the operation, never 5 days post-surgery.

There was more. I not only recovered from the brain hemorrhage, but as the result of the brain bleed the activation of the DBS (Deep Brain Stimulation) controller has thus far proven unnecessary. The hemorrhage and its effect on that portion of my brain which is the source of my tremors has significantly reduced the shaking in my dominant hand. Again, this was unique to my neuro-surgeon’s experience. This was the beneficial result hoped for from implant surgery and activation of the DBS controller on June 2nd, just not in the way that anyone could have foreseen.

I now know the difference between confronting mortality with one’s head versus one’s heart. I also know the incalculable value of having a partner at my side who embraces without hesitation the words of our marriage vows. I pray that each of you have such good fortune and love in your life, lives counting down one heartbeat at a time…

Love, Your Dad, Grandpa, and perhaps someday Your Great Grandfather.

 

 

Dear Britton.

I am in Arkansas camping for the next three weeks. The first two weeks I am solo. Grandmother will be joining me for the last week. I hope to use this time to do some mountain hiking in preparation for what we will encounter in Spain. I also find that the solitary time puts me better in touch with my thoughts.

The view from Magazine Mountain, the highest point in Arkansas.

It occurred to me that I should try to reflect on our coming Camino as I might have when I was 15 years old. Perhaps then I can better anticipate your excitement… and more importantly, your anxieties.

The world of a 15-year-old consists almost entirely of school, friends, extracurricular activities, and family. The world of a 72-year-old is immensely broader.

The Camino is a walking meditation. During the periods of silence our thoughts are necessarily drawn in different directions. Mine will likely find focus on where I am and where I have been on life’s journey. You may find your thoughts drawn to where you are and what the future may hold for you.

It occurs to me that my 15-year-old self might have been concerned about what I would miss during the coming summer. No summer job, no time with friends, no time with my siblings, and of course, no time with mom. I recently heard this referred to as FOMO, the fear of missing out.

Switching to my 72-year-old brain I ask you to take what I say as a matter of faith: If you were to spend this summer in Kansas City it would be just another summer, hardly distinguishable from any other. However, our weeks together on the Camino de Santiago, hiking 525 miles across Spain, may forge indelible shared memories that we will both hold dear in our hearts for the rest of our lives.

Peace Britton. Love, Grandpa.