The Climb

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“This is crazy, that’s a lot of steps and the way your leg has been hurting you, what if your leg fails you? How are you going to get back down if your leg fails you?”

“It won’t…failure isn’t an option.”

I look at the entrance of the lighthouse.  There were people going in and coming out.  As I move my eyes to the top, I take a deep breath and walk toward the stairs.

“You can do it, I’m 90 years old and if I can do it, so can you.” said a lady as she was ending her journey down.

I thanked her with a great big smile and took the first steps. “1….2…3…4.”

I’m on my way, nothing to stop me, not even the report the doctor gave a few months earlier.  “You have a tumor on your spine. You will eventually be unable to walk.”

“17…18…19..20!” There, I reached the first platform, time to rest and stretch. 

I remember when challenges as this was no challenge at all.  Despite my disability, I would climb stairs; walk with a full box on my shoulder.   I never thought of myself as disabled even though I was born with Spina Bifida. 

“Time to get started again, 20 down and 199 steps to go.”

This past few years have been rough, going from full time walker to now needing the occasional use of a wheelchair has taken its toll emotionally. Then there was work, a new boss, change in responsibilities, all these things have torn a little piece of my spirit.  Today isn’t about that though, today is about overcoming…today I’m crossing off an item from my bucket list.

“60….61….62….” I’m focus on each step, making sure my legs or crutches don’t miss one.  As I’m climbing, the other visitors are going around me.  I hear a parent hushing his kid after being asked, “Why does she walk like that?”  I smile, usually that would be an excellent teaching opportunity for the child and the parent but I don’t have time for that now. 

One hundred! Almost half way done!  I need to stretch my leg.  Pain is starting to present itself.  No stopping me though, I didn’t come here to reach the halfway point and go home.  I have 119 steps to go.  I love the view so far.  I laugh because the doctor’s didn’t recommend that I do this.  I might aggravate my condition.  Doctors have always underestimated me.  When I was born I was rushed to surgery to fix the hole on my spine.  A week later, back to surgery to install a tube from my brain to my heart.  This would allow the spinal fluids to “flow” better.  When my mother took me home, the doctor’s told her that I would not see adulthood and that I would probably never walk nor be a productive citizen.  I think this was too much for her.  After a year, she decided to hand over the responsibilities of my care to my father and my paternal grandmother. 

My grandmother took the lead in raising me, since my father had remarried and had another family to support.  “Abuela,” as we all called her, believed I had a higher purpose.  I was smart, not book smart but witty smart, she knew I was a survivor.  She saw tenacity in me.  She would often tell people, don’t be fooled by those crutches, Barbara will run circles around you and you won’t even notice it until she is done.”    When the school started a wheelchair sports team, I was one of the first to sign up.  We traveled to different states to compete.  I made Nationals several times.  My health was in tip top shape.  I was invincible.  In High School, I enrolled in the Work Study Program.  I got my first job at the local Social Security Administration Office, my first attempt at breaking the umbilical cord which connected my grandmother and me.  Winters in New Jersey gave me a greater challenge.  I had to maneuver over piles of snow, slush and ice.  On a real good day I had the privilege of walking over black ice.  None of this fazed me.  I loved working not because of the money but because of the friends I made and because working brought new challenges every day.

“146…147….148…” Every step I take brings a great big smile.  I remember “shaming” my abled body friend at work when we would walk in together, she would head toward the elevator, I toward the stairs.  We would give each other the look that said, “Race you up!”  Of course she would always beat me.  I rarely took the elevator, I liked the exercise and the look I would get from people who saw me head to the stairwell.  The tumor would eventually change that.  I would no longer amaze people with my physical abilities.  I had to come to terms with that. 

“175…176…177…” Staying focus, I can see the sunlight reflecting on the wall.  Forty-two steps to go.  Pain is kicking in stronger. I remember what a co-worker used to say, “If it ain’t worse than a nail in a hand, it ain’t worth complaining about.” So I’m not complaining.  I’m focus on my goal.  The prize is at the top. This would be another of many accomplishments. I haven’t been successful in every endeavor though….

Oh AMORE, it’s a grand thing isn’t it?  Makes people do all sorts of things.  For me, I left everything familiar, family, friends, a secure job and moved to Florida.  This wasn’t the worse idea I have ever had, in fact thinking about it, it was genius. The romantic aspect of the relationship failed but what remains is a loyal friendship.  Being in Florida has given me a new set of challenges and opportunity to love again.  I would not trade this decision for the world.  Here I met my Savior, I fell in love again and now I’m doing what comes natural, what most of my friends have encouraged me to do, I’m writing. 

“215…216…217…218…219!!!” So there I was, at the top of Florida’s tallest lighthouse.  What a beautiful sight.  As I stood there looking at God’s artistry in the sky, I thought of all I’ve been through and how all of it has shaped me to the important, powerful, independent woman I am today.