Our Camino 2015 Part 1

Journal On! Grand Prompt to Ask Your Grand

Did you ever take on a challenge that went beyond your comfort zone? Who or what inspired the challenge? How did you prepare? Did anyone help you along the way? What made this challenge special? What did you accomplish? 

Has it been ten years? Ten years since I carried a twenty-five pound backpack, traveled across the Atlantic to Spain and met my youngest, Robyn, to begin our quest, the Camino de Santiago. 

A little background. Three years before, a tri-vector of events and revelations unfolded. The breast cancer returned to my body as metastatic lesions on my vertebrae. My path forward was unknown. Scary. Robyn graduated from college and was not certain where her path lay. The Emillo Estevez movie, The Way, started streaming. The movie, starring Martin Sheen, chronicles a grieving father’s unplanned pilgrimage along the Camino de Santiago, finding peace, friendships, and a way to honor his son’s spirit.  

At first, Robyn and her friends searched the logistics. I loved diving into the stories of St James, the legend of the seashells, and St. William’s discovery. My dear friend Colleen, who was living with an aggressive MBC, joined in and talked about us making the healing journey when we felt stronger.  

Robyn had the time and money to go, but wrestled with guilt, leaving me in an unknown state, when communication was fair at best. I repeatedly assured her I would be home and well when she completed her journey. She needed to discover her own path and strength.

In the spring of 2012, Robyn packed an enormous backpack. She traveled without familiar friends and spoke only a few Spanish phrases. It was a brave step, and it is her story to tell. 

My story began when she texted that she had arrived at the Santiago de Compostela in time for Easter, but would not continue on to Finisterre, the official end of the Camino de Santiago. After weeks of walking, reflecting and being in the moment, she decided to finish the last 60 miles with me. Robyn felt I would be strong enough to walk the ancient pilgrimage with her. I believed her. 

Our plans took three years to materialize. Our biggest obstacles were schedules. Robyn worked in California and I continued teaching while managing a variety of treatment protocols. Colleen’s health ebbed.

Eventually, we planned our Camino on Easter 2015. Robyn and I had the same spring break, and I was feeling well. Colleen would head our cheer squad. 

Throughout my journey with breast cancer, I hold the belief that being able to live with MBC and live well  was because of cancer research and science, the courage of the sisters who battled the beast before and with me (including my grandmother and mother) and the belief that every day is a gift. Robyn and I decided our pilgrimage should be a fundraiser for the research teams at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center—my base for everything cancer related. Monies raised would go directly to metastatic breast cancer research at MSKCC. My techy daughter, Sara, and the very savvy MSKCC people helped me set up a website with links and payment options I did not have to manage. 

Friends and family stepped up to the cause. They also sent shells (the scallop shell is the Camino’s talisman) notes, and St. Christopher medals to carry and  leave at our destination, Finisterre—the edge of the world. My husband, Matt, packed me his favorite cigars to smoke at our destination. Colleen, a fellow beach bum, found me a perfect scallop shell from our northeastern side of the Atlantic. The metaphor did not escape me. Our indigenous scallops take a beating tumbling through the surf and onto the shore. Finding a perfectly delicate scallop shell is a find, proving strength and resilience.  

I borrowed a tremendous backpack and walked my flat terrain neighborhood or on a treadmill. I renewed my passport, bought flight tickets and walking sticks, and studied the  Peregrino guide. Robyn called and texted frequently, providing packing tips, rain gear and footwear needs, and water carrying options. She insisted I needed only 2-3 changes of underwear. I managed to tightly roll enough for a ten-day daily change. My knapsack weighed 25 pounds without water.

The best laid plans always have an unexpected wrench or two, making a challenge more interesting. A few weeks before taking off,  Matt had to schedule a hip replacement about six days into the trip. I felt terribly guilty. Luckily, his sister volunteered to see him through the week and get him to the hospital. They both told me to go. 

Our fundraising grew steadily. Friends and family cheered “Bien Camino”. I promised to send daily updates. On April 2, 2015, I headed to JFK airport. 

Stay tuned for Part 2

Thank you for reading a Journal On! Grand Prompt to Ask Your Grand. I invite you to exercise your writer’s hand and link your prompt response in the comments below.

---