Elizabeth and Ellie

ELizabeth's Pack on Bench

Ellie the Hiker

My Favorite... Elizabeth and Ellie

Snorkling Here Would Be Fabulous!

A week ago my daughter Elizabeth made a decision to go to Catalina Island to hike.  I totally understood.  She needed time be alone, think and rid some of the stress accumlulating over the past few months.  

Elizabeth is doing her doctoral program at Irvine, in California, and is leaving for Turkey in a few days to establish her groundwork to do research and for a year or more.  She received the Fulbright-Hayes Scholarship about a month ago and I can hear the excitement in her voice when she talks getting started on her project in Turkey.

So, you probably can imagine the compounding stress studying, reading, presenting, writing, teaching and completeing her oral candidacy exams.  That’s all on top of preparing her travel plans, visa and packing for Turkey.  

I was excited about her plans to hike and camp for three days with her small dog, Ellie.  I’m proud of her taking the initiative to do something she wanted to do instead of mulling over packing and preparing to leave for Turkey, she flies out on September 29th.

I started with this part of the story so you could understand the freedom Elizabeth chose when she got on the ferry to Catalina with her small dog Ellie.  I was living vicariously with her on her adventure every time she sent me pictures from the 35 mile hike she was taking on Catalina Island.  Pictures of the stunning views, her heavy backpack and of her friend-puppy, Ellie.

I loved how she sent pictures of the places she was hiking through.  It enticed me to start getting into shape for hiking and try it myself in the near future.  I wasn’t just the inspiration to have another adventure of my own.  Her sharing with pictures also gave me comfort.  I knew everything was going well.  It’s a pretty remote island, especially this time of year.

The last day of the hike I got a picture Elizabeth sent of Ellie laying on a bed-type thing with a pillow on the end.  There wasn’t a message, just a picture of Ellie.  Ellie had a pink thing wrapped around her snout, and there was a tan, tube-like thing coming from the pink, wrapped area.  Her legs were sprawled out and she looked terribly sad lying there.

Ellie

When I saw the picture I felt obsessed with wanting to know what had happened.  All I had was a picture, no more information!  I studied the photo and decided Ellie was at the vet’s office, getting oxygen and was being sedated.  I instantly worried about Elizabeth, too, knowing how close her and Ellie are. 

“Ellie must have become exhausted and dehydrated after the long hiking days!” I started thinking.  “Elizabeth has to be devastated and she’s alone with Ellie.  There’s no one to help console her.”

I had to get more information so I texted Elizabeth, “What?!!!” 

I waited and still no answer.  I was thinking,” Elizabeth must be worried sick!  She has to be she isn’t even responding to my texts.”

I started worrying and kept talking to myself, “Is Ellie’s prognosis okay?  How will Elizabeth ever cope with this if something happens to Ellie?  Josef’s in Brazil and she probably won’t be able to get in touch with him this time of the day.”

I sent two more texts, “Hospital” then……… “??”

Each time I sent a message I hoped for an answer.  I waited between my sent messages to give her what I thought was enough time to answer.  While waiting I continued my self-talk,  “She must be talking to the vet or talking to her boyfriend, Josef, or crying so hard she can’t answer.  Poor Elizabeth!”

I knew I had to wait.  I had to give her time to text back.  Beeping sounds coming from more of my texts would just agitate an already stressful time.  But delaying another text was like waiting for a unnerving roller-coaster ride to stop so I could get off. 

These waiting times between texts added up to about an hour.  Unable to think of anything else but Elizabeth and Ellie, I sat frozen in my small, brown chair, tightly holding my blue cell phone.   I could feel nausea creeping up.  I couldn’t move.  The same thoughts kept whirling around in my mind, “Oh, no! Poor Elizabeth, poor Ellie!”

My next desperate text, “I’m very worried”.

I could feel myself strain to listen for a text from her.  I checked my phone to make sure the sound was on and I didn’t just miss her text because it was off.   Then I considered how difficult it was for Elizabeth.  It wasn’t all about me and my worry.  It was important for me to give her space.   I took this into account, thinking , “Okay, let her take her time, it’s not an easy thing to deal with and I need to be patient even though I’m thinking the worse.”

I thought of a text I could write to give her time and let her know she could call me when she had the opportunity.  What I wanted to text was, “CALL ME!”

But, instead I delivered, “Call when u can, I’m home.” 

Waiting, waiting.  I still couldn’t move.  “What if….”  in a variety of ways kept popping up in my mind.  Worrying, worrying.

This pause in my one-sided communication was so long.  Truthfully?  It seemed longer than it really was, each minute slowly dropping the tiny grains of sand through the pin-sized hole in the hourglass.

Where was my self-restraint?   “I’m dying here!!”  I sent another.

Leaning my head back on the head of my chair, I closed my eyes and attempted to relax.  A freight train sound came from my phone signaling a text!!

It’s from Elizabeth, “Oh sorry!!” 

Her second response,“It was the muzzle she had to wear on the ferry!!!!”

Another response,  “So sorry. Can’t call phone dying…need GPS from port.”

My body felt like it was descending into the cool water after diving off an old, black piling at the old Arnold Line dock.  Ahhhh.  What a relief.  As my body relaxed, tears started flowing.  All my pent up emotions releasing.  Relief.

My last message to my daughter, “Whew!”

All this unnecessary spinning.  My entire story created from a texted picture.  I thoroughly believed what I was thinking.  My thinking led me to be anxious, worried and paralyzed in my chair. The emotions I let fly were fed by my irrational thinking.  What did I know really know when I started spinning the tale of Ellie?  Nothing.  

Now I’m laughing at myself.  It’s been an important reminder for me. I pulled the fire alarm without knowing if there truly was a fire.  Was it really true Ellie and Elizabeth were at the vet’s office?  Was it true Ellie had been sedated?  Was it true Elizabeth was traumatized and needed my help?  Were any of my conclusions rational without the facts?  I fueled the fire.  

The unhealthy part of this scenario is my emotions running rampant.  My emotions stemmed from my fictional story from a picture.  My body took the impact, unnecessarily.  I make a big effort to stay well.  It’s counterproductive to destroy what I’ve worked hard to achieve.  A waste of time, energy and brain cells.

Those stain-glass eyes continue to obscure my vision!

http://socalhiker.net/hiking-trans-catalina-trail/