DETOUR TO CAMELOT

I was headed to a familiar park with my grandchildren, one of our favorites, when we reached an unfamiliar sign—DETOUR AHEAD.  We had our plans set out for the day and I didn’t want any detours.  I was irritated and expressed it to the kids.  We followed the winding detour, not knowing where we were headed, and within a few miles a sign for CAMELOT PARK appeared.

I yelled to Morgan and Ethan, “Look at that you guys, a park in the middle of nowhere.  We’ve never been here before.  Maybe the detour was a good thing after all.”

We quickly exited the car, feeling genuine excitement at our new discovery.  I surveyed the park and realized that we’d made an unusual find.  Not only was there unique and fun play equipment for the kids, but a closer look revealed a small marsh and a beautiful, winding path through an enchanted looking woods.  I felt mesmerized.  I knew that we’d come back here often.  I couldn’t wait to run along the path with the kids.

I sat and watched them play for a while and then roamed around snapping photographs of wildlife.  I felt like a kid again.

About an hour later I convinced the kids to check out the long wooden bridge over the marsh and see what interesting discoveries we could make.  Morgan made the first observation, a muskrat nibbling on a cattail stalk.  We watched him glide along the water and then disappear under the bridge.  Ethan made the second discovery, a huge turtle sunning himself near a lily pad.  It was fun to see the kids excited about wildlife.  We watched and listened to the ducks and geese for a while and then followed the trail beyond the bridge.

Later that summer, while I was on a three-day trip to Wisconsin, I told my friend Janet about the enchanted park.  She suggested that we meet there with our grandchildren the next day after we returned.  I quickly agreed.

The kids got along well and were excited, pointing out numerous wildlife observations.  They spurred each other on and eagerly followed Janet and me as we crossed the bridge and headed for the wooded trail.  We took photos on the large swings and the kids were in rare form.  Janet, a true nature lover, pointed out different plants and trees and birds along the way.  The kids were eager and receptive listeners.  It was a wonderful culmination to an unusual and adventurous week.  Little did I know how the memory of that park and the time with Janet would prove almost painful a few days later.

I was sitting at my son’s dining room table the following Monday morning, as I was about to make breakfast for my grandchildren.  My cell phone rang; it was Bill, Janet’s husband.  I couldn’t imagine why he was calling me.  I knew that he and Janet had gone to northern Minnesota to spend the weekend with their daughter and family at their beautiful cabin.  Janet had been looking forward to it.  But now I knew immediately that something was wrong.

Bill was somber as he told me that Janet had had a terrible biking accident and had fallen while trying to rescue a lost dog.  She needed to be airlifted to Duluth, the nearest large city in Minnesota with a major hospital. Luckily a passerby had spotted her, and Janet’s daughter, worried when she hadn’t returned, set off looking for her.  Bill said that Janet had a serious brain injury and was in intensive care, on a ventilator.  He was hopeful, but guarded.  He cautioned me that it would be a very long recovery and that the next few days were crucial.  He promised to call again in a few days.  I got off the phone, feeling shocked and dazed.  I had to direct my attention to my grandchildren, but I was absolutely stunned.  Janet was such a vibrant, healthy person, in incredible physical condition.  Although over 70, she acted and seemed much younger.  She swam and hiked nearly every day.  She was my inspiration and motivation, as well as being a cherished friend.  She was also one of the kindest and most thoughtful people I’d ever met.  I was hurting for her and feeling my loss.  I wanted to turn the clock back a few days, when we’d been on that quiet, peaceful path.  I was already missing her.

The next few days were anguishing.  On Wednesday Bill called back and told me about a special website called Caring Bridge, where I could track Janet’s progress.  He said that it was difficult to stay in touch with so many concerned friends and this website had been a welcome discovery.  He informed me that many more tests were needed and that Janet would be in the hospital for weeks to come.

Later that day I reflected on how dramatically our lives could change in a split second.  I’d nearly lost my dear friend and had no control over it.  Her road to recovery would be long and hard, but if anyone could do it, it would surely be Janet.  I prayed for her to be strong and to feel the connected love and caring of her family and friends.  We were dedicated to her healing.

And little by little healing did take place.  After many weeks in the hospital, Janet was moved to a rehabilitation center and then on home.  She continues to receive therapeutic treatments several times a week.  She speaks proudly of swimming again, for short periods, three or four times a week.  And she’s back going on walks.  To many, she’s a walking miracle.

Over all this time I’ve reflected often about the meaning of life and our connection with others.  For several weeks after Janet’s accident, I found it difficult to return to Camelot Park, and when I eventually did, I felt an intense sadness.  I had discovered the park by accident, because of an irritating detour, and yet it became a place to return to often for its simple beauty and serenity.  Janet enjoyed it for many of the same reasons.  I walked on the trail and remembered her connection with our grandchildren; I wondered if we’d ever go there again.

But in mid-November Janet called me for the first time since her accident and wanted to get together.  I suggested we go to Camelot Park and take a walk through the woods.  She liked the idea.

It was a beautifully clear and sunny day and I was on top of the world.  My friend, however changed, was back.  There had been a major detour in her life which she had no way of anticipating, but which she’d come through miraculously.  As we were walking, I thought of how we all at some point run into detours in our lives that are challenging and formidable and unexpected, but if we’re lucky, there is a Camelot, a place of refuge inside ourselves and people who will care about us deeply, no matter what.  Janet, through the almost insurmountable detour in her life, had taught me about courage and perseverance and love and I knew that I would be forever changed.