Re-entry

Enthusiasm for unloading on the return is not nearly
as compelling as loading is on the way out.

Anyone who has spent a pleasurable amount of time somewhere away from home, has probably experienced re-entry to some extent, the feeling that comes with the realization of all the details involved in day to day living that had been ignored for however long the time away has been.  It may not compare with an astronaut's blast into the atmosphere returning from space, but it counts.

     I first recognized it one day returning from a week-long boat trip in Alaska's Prince William Sound. I had pulled up at a stop light and looked at the vehicle next to me, a pickup truck driven by an African-American fellow, not a usual sight if you will forgive the stereotype.  My first thought was, "we still have a civil rights problem," and with that the flood of real life came back.

     With so many trips back and forth to the East Pole, a routine has evolved and it goes pretty much the same each time but one new element joined the agenda this time.

     The day before leaving involves cleaning, organizing, early packing, making lists of food and other things to bring out the next time.

   The morning of, a reluctant crawl out of bed to finish up and head out. Get the snowmachine and sled connected and heading in the right direction, then pack everything onto the sled and the cargo carrier on the machine. Clean out the wood stove and lay a fire for next time that can be started with one match. Disconnect the propane that fuels the cook range and gas lights and bring the hose indoors. Hide everything that would be a big loss if stolen. Make sure the windows are locked and the bear boards are covering the four that a bear can reach. Search once more for the little things that could have escaped your initial search and with more reluctance, close the door and lock it and head down the hill. A stop at the bottom offers one last look before heading out.

     Taking the trail in, is focused, I just want to get there as quickly as possible, but going out if the trail and weather allow, goes slower, the woods scanned more thoroughly for the odd moose or anything else standing nearby. No hurry to leave and making it last as long as possible.

     But slowly along the trail the mindset changes. From all the thoughts that occupy life in the woods, they slowly evolve into what's ahead. First comes the condition of the Jeep and trailer that have been sitting at the trail head for almost two weeks, probably buried in snow or plowed in by the guy who does that after a storm. That's if it's there at all; thinking through if I know the license numbers in case they have been stolen. or who would I call if it's been vandalized. So far that's never happened.

     All things considered Friday everything appeared to be in good shape, except for me and that will be explained in a minute. There wasn't nearly as much snow on the vehicle as I expected but the trailer took a while to shovel off with the little avalanche emergency shovel I carry. Overall clearing off and warming the car, packing everything into the Jeep, and loading the machine and sled onto the trailer took almost an hour

     Once moving the next thought is for the condition of the road, but that proved to be clear and dry so I could go in two-wheel drive all the way home (a gas saver if nothing else).

Slowly the thought evolved into what I need to do along the way. There’s always a stop at the Post Office. I don't think I left much food at the house so maybe stop and pick up a Subway sandwich. Just not up for a huge shopping venture into a store. And there's that one other stop that I am hoping doesn't become a regular part of the routine.

     Thinking I could skip it but, then maybe not.

     Once the road items have been worked out I start thinking about the condition of this house; there was a snowfall and I hope I can get into the driveway; am I going to have to walk up and get the snowblower just to get into the yard?  Is there any food in the house? Will the birds come back when I refill the feeders? I know I left water running, have the pipes frozen anyway? Has anybody broken in?

     Then, there is this new stop. If nobody has guessed by now, it's the Emergency Room. Two days

before I left I was splitting firewood and on the very last chunk to be split, I hit an oddly shaped piece of wood at an odd angle with the 18-pound splitting maul. It careened off to the left and a searing pain ran up my left arm; I mean a screaming pain. Over the next couple of hours the arm swelled and turned a vivid shade of purple. In several positions it could function but there were a couple of motions that sent the pain back up my arm. I used a Ziploc bag filled with snow to ice it down and considered going out one day ahead of time if this were serious.

     In the morning it didn't seem any worse so I decided to take my time cleaning and packing, trying not to disturb it any more than I had to and take a more relaxed trip out the next day. But over the course of the day the swelling increased and the purple coloring progressed down the arm almost to the hand.

      And the next day with my swollen purple arm I headed out.

     At the emergency room X-rays revealed it was only a very bad sprain of the supinator muscle. If

you hold your arm palm up, the muscle starts just above the elbow on the side toward your body, then crosses diagonally across the elbow to connect below the joint on the side away from the body. It controls twisting motions and I can testify to that because if I twist my arm that's when the hard pain comes. The purple they said was blood from a vein that may have been compromised and would go away once the bleeding stops. That, however is complicated by a blood thinner I have to take. Mostly it looks ugly and in certain positions it hurts but apparently no permanent damage.

     On this visit I also learned one more element of the aging process. As you grow older the number of ailments and procedures you have suffered over the years grows bigger and bigger when you have to list them while checking into a medical facility, and that doesn't even include the bumps and bruises, cuts and abrasions of a thousand small injuries over the years. But here's a bright spot. A technician came in to make some x-rays and brought a cute young assistant with him. The whole episode was light-hearted and I attempted to flirt with her which she took good-naturedly. At one point the guy asked me to stand up and flex my biceps. I stood up and did my best to inflate those 74-year-old muscles. When I did, the cute girl squealed. Seriously a high-pitched squeal. I am not sure how wide my grin was but it made almost tearing my arm off just about worth it.

    So that was a new element in the re-entry process, let's hope it was an isolated case and not a permanent stop on the way home every time.
     As for the worries, the house was fine, someone had even taken a cut up the driveway with a plow and the water still dribbled out of the tap. Oh yeah, the birds were back at the feeders before I went indoors after filling them.