Se(n)t out to Sea in a Pea Green Boat

One of the best moments of my recent life was swimming with my son in the ocean waters off Maui. The joy of returning to the ocean and playing in the waves is a salty sweet memory that still flavors my sadder days.

This memory is layered upon a lifetime of others: hours spent in the exhilarating mountain cold of Fish Lake in SE Oregon where my grandparents had a cabin; dive bombing with my cousins into my other grandparents kidney shaped pool; polar bear swimming at Cleowax lake at girl scout camp; the visceral pleasure of trading the weight of a backpack for the cleansing and refreshment of an Oregon Cascade lake. I was always the first one in and the last one out of any body of water that came my way. Scuba diving, snorkeling, floating, lolling. Being in and around water defines me. Then, the grown up pleasures of Belknap hot springs; star gazing from my folks hot tub and countless hours soaking in bathtubs.

With careless casualness, my Urologist informed me earlier today that this is over. No baths, no hottubs, no Maui wave surfing. Apparently he forgot to tell me that with a superpubic catheter water immersion isn't allowed. Is that a problem for you, he asks. As if gimps don't float.

I haven't stopped crying since then. He broke my heart. How could this be true? How can I survive having something so integral to my entire life coming to an end. 

Shouldn't doctors be required to warn you if choice A causes thing B to end.

I can't write any more about this. Maybe once I have processed a little more this won't seem so bleak. But I doubt it. Maybe there is an upside that eludes me right now. But I doubt it.

Down around Biloxi

Pretty girls are swimmin' in the sea

They all look like sisters in the ocean

Safe or Sorry: this is my Question

What is the difference between parasailing and paragliding?  In the first, semi-adventurous tourists put on a parachute and are towed behind a speed boat; while paragliding requires a level of moxie that few people have. Enthusiasts hike to the top of cliffs and throw themselves off, depending on a flimsy nylon parachute to slow their accelerated rate of descent. What kind of fool would choose this for recreation? Me, I hope—if I had known then what I live now.

If at, say, 25, I followed Alice down the rabbit hole and was given a glimpse of my life at 45 would I have suddenly gained the internal fortitude to do all types of seemingly crazy things. It is one of those 'road less traveled,' right turn/left turn questions that philosophers have chewed over for ever. I am more interested in imaging the kinds of things that I passed over-thinking I could always get to it later.
These thoughts were triggered by a video I saw of a couple hiking through a South American jungle with the sole purpose to jump off a cliff. The wife is having so much fun, she does a back flip off the edge. The husband gets caught in a wind current and slams into a tree. Even after a severely broken leg from this accident, a year later he is eagerly planning his next jump. Crazy? Absolutely, but, at the same time, so darned alive. If I had my health back I think I would start with bungee jumping, move to paragliding, and 'take the leap' to base jumping (same jump, no chute). Not because I had my full functioning body back, but because being safe and sensible doesn't guarantee that you will be safe or that life will be sensible.
Would I rather: be a quad from hitting my head on the ocean floor or sit safely in the boat; eat the volcanic Thai food or stick with the one star; take the payment optional roving reporter job or settle in to editors desk. I often say that except for MS, John and I would be backpacking now. In reality, we had plenty of health years where we were too busy, too parents, too career to take a weekend day-hike trip, let alone a summer to reclaim the Pacific Crest Trail.
This isn't about regret—rather a touchstone to return to the next time I make a seemingly small choice or awesomely large decision. My paragliding, hiking, and volcanic food (and roller derby-too bad) days are behind me, but who knows what is ahead. Maybe the next time I find myself in an island locale, I will sign up for the parasailing.