It’s been a pretty intense several months since I last wrote.
April and May included a long-planned trip to Zurich, Switzerland where my son and his wife now live, and a very special pilgrimage hike I’ve wanted to do for a long time, on the Camino de Santiago, the way of Saint James, in Spain.
It was awesome to finally see the Zurich digs--pretty great apartment in a very pleasant city, quite walkable, with a river and a huge lake as enjoyable aquatic offerings. It was fun to be there and Matthew and Hedi were great hosts.
We flew to Madrid to meet the group we’d be hiking with. John seemed particularly exhausted from the fairly short trip and laid down in the hotel room while I went to get some much-needed nourishment. Then began the strange odyssey of an affliction that later put him in the hospital for two weeks and caused a second open-heart surgery.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
He recovered fairly quickly from what we now know (but didn’t then) was a “shower stroke” of the bacteria that were infecting his artificial heart valve, and the next morning we met our cohort of seven, our genius guide German Cruzado, and the amazing Marly Muci who headed the company we traveled with--highly, highly recommended! (marlycamino.com)
A friend recently asked me what made this trip so special, and why was it different from a regular hiking trip?
Well, first of all, it’s an ancient pilgrim way. From the 9th century on when the relics of Saint James, one of the twelve apostles, were discovered, believers came from France, Portugal, and Spain to reach the holy site, now the base of the majestic Cathedral de Santiago Compostella. The path is rich in that history--I could feel it under my feet in the same way I’ve felt the suffering in visits to the Killing Fields in Cambodia and Auschwitz in Poland.
I told him I’d felt deeply joined with everyone we passed on the path, exchanging the greeting Buen Camino, as we walked by each other. There were so many other warm gestures I remember, like the time I was inspecting my hiking partner Lucy’s neck for sunburn and a pilgrim rushed over with sunblock without even being asked. Offers of tissue for bathrooms, euros for café con leche, concern if we were sitting by the side taking a rest, emphasized our shared journeys over and over in a way a “regular” hike never would have.
Such kindness. I hadn’t realized how hungry for it I’d been, until I felt its warmth spilling into every day, every interaction along the way.
It felt so good to be part of something so much bigger than myself.
As our guide German often said, “The Camino provides.” But also, “There is no Camino without pain.”
And that’s where the next part of the path enters my story.
John had been unable to hike given his long Covid symptoms of the last year--that’s why we’d chosen this trip, with the opportunity for those who could not hike, or had a tired or blistered day, to ride in the van. German and Jose Ramon, the van driver, would meet us at check points along the way with snacks, water, encouragement, and one day, a glorious picnic lunch.
John happily rode in the van for the days he could not stay at our accommodations (the one-nighters) and enjoyed the stunning scenery and the company of German and Jose Ramon as well as one of our cohort who had bad blisters and stress fractures--so hard--but was great support for John (thank you, Melissa!).
That is, until the day before the journey’s capstone--the march into Santiago, dinner celebration where we’d receive our certificates, and the Pilgrim’s Mass in the Cathedral, where 8 monks would pull the ropes that swung the giant botafumario. (Catholics, remember the censor swung down the aisle before mass filled with incense?) Only this one was 5 feet tall!
We did all those things, but after we had to take John to a hospital in Santiago city after another event of total body weakness, a second blanking-out episode, and what appeared to be high fever (another one of those “shower strokes”). He, German and I spent 8 hours there, while our cohort patiently waited, then finally went to the accommodation without us for the planned celebration of Jose Ramon and, by their report, a delicious dinner (as most of our meals were).
We left the hospital with no answers, a now well-oriented but still weak husband, and a prescription for an antibiotic, which in hindsight, allowed us to finish the trip.
He was an incredibly good sport, and I was ecstatic to be able to have hiked the whole way. Our group by this time had become family, and a more supportive and caring one would have been hard to come by. Most of us split up planning to reunite the following year in Porto for a longer trek and stay in touch on What’s App and social media.
John and I took the train to Madrid where we spent several wonderful days despite a few more scary but brief events, and many wheelchairs later arrived home after a long plane trip and drive from Newark.
No Camino without pain, remember?
After a visit to our primary care doctor who could find no cause of all these strange symptoms, a few days passed, and he developed a high fever. Despite his considerable resistance, I insisted on a trip to the Sharon Hospital ER where the second part of our Camino journey was to begin.
They quickly diagnosed SBE (subacute bacterial endocarditis) and began a massive infusion of IV antibiotics, which would continue for 7 weeks, done at home via a PICC line. From the ICU he was transferred to Hartford Hospital where he would be for another 9 days, have further tests and, a second open heart surgery to replace the infected artificial valve he’d had inserted exactly 5 years ago.
So it’s been a different kind of journey going forward. Sitting by John’s hospital bed, waiting to hear the results of the surgery, pushing the antibiotics into his line every morning, greeting the nurses and PT practitioners who have been coming to our home weekly, I remind myself that this is all part of the pilgrimage we began in early May, that there is no real “after the Camino,” but that life’s paths of joy and pain are intertwined, and that kindness can bring ease to both.
*******
Though shaken by this perilous journey, we keep moving. John gets a little stronger each day, and my caretaking responsibilities have ceased for the most part. The cushion of kindness that the Camino offered continues to support us both. Thank you, Lucy, Christina, Alicjia, Melissa, Daphne, and Al--and of course, German and Marly. You are the best.
Buen Camino!