9/14/09
I am in Garden Valley Idaho, grateful to be attending a First Descents (FD) whitewater kayaking camp for young adult cancer survivors. During a two hour mechanical delay in LAX, where I started my trip, I enjoyed the carpets’ stale popcorn odor, ate a cardboard sandwich and remembered that it’s good when the airline announces you won’t be leaving until the problems your plane is having are fixed. Eventually the turboprop puddle jumper was ready and we were on our way. I’m a brain cancer survivor, 2 ½ years past my best prognosis. So far everything has worked out for me in, spite of any gratuitous worrying along the way. But just because I know this doesn’t mean I always believe my good fortune will continue. I hope my time in Idaho as a second year First Descents camper help will fortify my confidence and faith so that they increasingly supplant my fears. That’s what happened last year when I went to and FD camp in California.
I spent a lot of time before leaving Southern California this year worrying, mostly about things that didn’t really need my attention. When I worried about rolling over in my kayak and breaking something important, I remembered that First Descents got me through camp in 2008 with all of my fingers, toes, larger appendages and faculties working just fine. I knew that the neophyte and seasoned Kayakers attracted to this experience share do no harm as our common ethos. I knew the founders of First Descents understand that if their campers go through the ordeal of learning to whitewater kayak in a fun and safe environment, some will return to do it again, and some will become the spokespeople and fundraisers FD needs to make this empowering experience available to other young adult cancer survivors. I remembered to trust that I would be in good hands here in Idaho, even while I scrambled to redesignate the beneficiaries for my life insurance policies before leaving. I buzzed from task to task, fighting survivor’s fatigue and confusion, wondering why I over-commit and why I invariably feel completely exhausted by the time I leave for a vacation.
I recalled feeling exhausted when I arrived at my 2008 FD camp, and how I left that camp with a new understanding of living in the moment. Splashing through challenging whitewater rapids and then floating down beautiful stretches of calm with wonderful new friends leaves no time for non-productive reveries. But the lesson of remaining in the moment is quite difficult to abide in the hustle bustle United States. I begin my second FD camp thirsty to further internalize what I discovered last year.
My 2008 First Descents Camp began at the airport in Yreka, California, where FD founders Brad Ludden and Corey Nielsen picked me and 3 other campers up. Once our luggage was stowed and in the van they asked, “What are your Nicknames?”
“I’m NoMo Chemo Man on my softball team,” I said.
They both shrugged appreciatively. “NoMo,” Corey said, “is your name here.”
“And the rest of you?” Brad said, “or we’ll choose one for you. I am Crotch, Corey’s Rot.”
Right from the start, the leadership of First Descents’ Camps communicates that being with FD is going to be a fun, challenging and playful experience. Campers begin by shedding their birth names for the rest of the camp. We don’t know each other by any other handles than the nicknames we pick for ourselves or ones that get picked for us. Renaming is a metaphor for leaving behind our “sick” cancer patient identities and reclaiming the fun decisive empowered selves that many of us lost during the rigors of treatment.
*****
At the Boise airport this year, Easy E answered Smelly, the Camp Director’s cell phone, “Is this NoMo?”
“Yes, I’m at the baggage claim.”
“This is ‘E’. I have a couple of other campers with me. We’ll be right down.”
“How did you get your nickname?” I asked Easy E as she drove us through Boise towards Garden Valley.
“Well, at last year’s Idaho camp, they named me Easy E because they thought I made everything look easy. I just kind of took to this sport. I shortened it to E ”
“What are your names going to be?” E asked Cindy from Long Beach, California and Kathy and Linda from Omaha, Nebraska. We had all arrived at the airport at about the same time.
“I don’t know.”
“Me neither.”
“Not sure.”
“Well,” E said, “you better pick names by the time we get home, or we’ll choose them for you. This is one of those things you’ll probably want to do for yourself.”
I was in the front passenger seat. I smiled over at E and said, “Yep.”
E dropped us off in front of the spacious 3-bedroom home that was going to be the camp’s base house. The front door opened into a large living room. Twelve campers and as many FD volunteers and staff members were chatting energetically. They had chosen names such as Moo, Pixie, Clicks, McFly, Dog Bite and Rockie. Cindy became Smiles, Kathy became Worm and Linda became Scrappy. Our camp mom and dad, who had set out snacks for all of us, introduced themselves as Home Fry and Home Slice respectively. They had volunteered to make sure we ate healthful delicious food through the week of camp. The house smelled like sausages and peppers and garlic bread. My stomach rumbled happily.
Late this afternoon, FD’s staff and volunteers outfitted us campers with whitewater kayaking equipment.
“This is a spray skirt.” Smelly, the camp director explained, “In this camp, it is cool for everyone to wear skirts. This is the skirt’s ‘Oh shit’ strap,” she pointed at the loop sewn in the front of the skirt. “We will teach you how and when to use it tomorrow at the practice pond. This is a spray jacket, it seals around your waist, neck and wrists. It will keep you warm on the river. These are your PFDs. We will fit you in one so if you swim, it will keep you floating on the surface of the water with your head up. These are river shoes. They are by far the best way to walk in a river’s shallows. Here are the helmets. Make sure yours fits securely on your head. The chinstrap should be snug, so that no more than two fingers fit between your neck and the strap.” Fro, an advanced kayaker and volunteer from Idaho put on a helmet and demonstrated adjusting the strap appropriately.
Smelly continued, “Fro, can you please tell the people how to keep their equipment together?”
“Certainly,” he said. “Take the helmet’s chin strap and pull it through one of the spray jacket’s sleeves, one of the PFD’s armholes, the waist seal of the spray skirt and the laces of your river shoes. It all holds together nicely.”
“This is your equipment for the week,” Smelly explained, “it is your responsibility to make sure your stuff is ready to go when we leave for the river in the morning and to lay it out to dry when we get back in the afternoon. You don’t want to start the day with soppy equipment. It’s cold, stinky and nasty.” We campers broke into separate groups and collected our equipment, tied it into “gear babies” and placed it in the base house’s garage to prepare for the next day.
We ate our delicious Italian dinner and talked. I met campers and staff from many regions of the United States and Canada. I knew many things would be different here from my awesome experience at last year’s FD California kayaking camp, but I felt good about this group. I heard lots of playfulness and laugher as people compared common experiences and began to bond. One of the main goals of First Descents, in addition to facilitating young adult cancer survivors’ success in overcoming the physical and emotional challenges that whitewater kayaking provide, is to create a community where survivors can network and have fun with their peers and the seasoned kayakers who are there to support and encourage them. Going through cancer treatment can be a very isolating and at times socially devastating. Last year I loved watching the most guarded new arrivals open up and begin to have fun as the week flowed.
*****
We have enjoyed our first campfire. The chill of the air, the warmth of the fire and the smell of smoke were a nice combination. The stars above Garden Valley Idaho shimmered sublimely.
We are back in the house feeling at home. Smelly and her staff set a friendly goofy and reassuring tone that has helped everyone relax. Tomorrow we will hit the pond and start building skills. For tonight, it’s peace and blessings to my future readers.
NoMo Chemo Man
