Pyramid Lake

There is a lake in Jasper at the base of a mountain . . . well, not quite the base. If you are in a car, it’s an easy uphill drive along a winding road to reach beautiful water that reflects Pyramid Mountain above. And at that water you can rent canoes, take them out and paddle – quietly, peacefully, happily – to your heart’s delight.

Nearly ten years ago, while living in Jasper, I had that pleasure. But I didn’t have a car. Instead, a group of friends and I set out on our bikes to peddle to the base of this mountain, where the lake waited with the canoes on shore.

Jasper is high, and biking up a mountain makes it even higher. To reach that water meant physical turmoil. Our group of friends became separated – those who were stronger pushed ahead, those out of practise fell behind.

I fell behind: panting, swearing, aching. Cars whizzed past, and I considered sticking out a thumb, but didn’t because it was too embarrassing. Instead I simlpy pressed onward despite thoughts of giving up, because I knew – I just knew – that canoeing in that beautiful water, out in the open air, laughing and cruising, and being part of that incredible grandness was going to be worth it.

So bit by bit, with frequent breakdowns of determination and the occasional ten minute rest-stops . . . I finally made it to the base of that mountain. And my word, it was good.

It was so very, very good.

I wish that at the end of this chemotherapy there was something like that waiting.  My pink mountain with the canoes all tied up. Actually, there is – another chance, a plane ticket home, a break from this crap. But right  now I’m struggling uphill, and it’s getting pretty damn difficult.

Bright side: I received the expensive drug, and this weekend has been much better. Apart from Friday the nausea was little to gone, which makes the whole thing easier. Instead of suffering from illness, I slept away the weekend. This was a positive experience . . . and yet I can’t help feeling down. Thinking about all the treatments to come – all the needles and drugs – it’s like biking up that mountain and turning the corner, only to see more of that uphill climb.

I know this will be over in a matter of months. This part of the cancer ride will come and go, and I pray it’ll never be needed again. Somewhere ahead is that symbolic lake, though I do wish there was an easier way.

The weekend went well. That is what matters. But I feel this is a greater challenge beyond ticking off the treatments, and unfortunately there isn’t much choice . . . I just need to keep on biking.

4 thoughts on “Pyramid Lake

  1. So glad to hear that you were given the “expensive” drug and that the nausea was much better. Keep your sights on that beautiful lake. I know you have perseverance in you and you will never ever give up. Keep you smiling 🙂

  2. On this side of the pond snowsuits are in at Costco. I do school supplies for our school and moved them out of our house today..haven’t seen the livingroom floor for a couple of months. My mind was on Christmas the other day when I saw your Dad. There are some of us on your prayer team planning Christmas blessings for you when you visit here. Did you have Advent calendars when you were a kid?? Each day opening the door to reveal a new picture leading up to the largest door to open on Christmas.

    We continue to focus on your healing and pray you feel God’s loving strength carrying you through this difficult journey you are on right now.

    One day, one step, one door at a time- the good things of life still await you when this leg of the race is done.

    • Hi Sandie – we did have an advent calendar. Every day we’d add another star till at the very end we were able to reveal a little baby Jesus. Putting up those stars was an honour when I was a girl, something I looked forward to every year.

      Thanks for the nice memory 🙂 Hard to believe snowsuits are in already. Dad was just telling me today that it was 34 degrees!

  3. Hi:

    Karin checking in. It is easy to say chin up – everyone must deal in their own way and so I say do your very best and most of all keep positive thoughts. I am, however, convinced that not only is the top of the mountain waiting for you, so is the plane ticket and one hell of a celebratory Christmas. Your frame of mind is great and it is uplifting to see and remember sleep is a great healer for sure. Keep up the good work you two and keep cycling!! You are most blessed (as was I) to have such wonderful support from your husband and family!!


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