I Did It! (Suzanne Forster)

I took a road trip. Gassed up the convertible and headed out all by myself. It was very cool. Admittedly, it was a short journey—at best a couple hundred miles round trip to San Diego for a long weekend. To road trip veterans it might not even qualify as official, but when you’re directionally challenged, and you have two fractured vertebrae in the middle of your back, you’re probably lucky to be driving at all.

The thing is I couldn’t not go on this trip. It was a unique opportunity to re-unite with writer friends from what now seems like another era in my life, and I knew I had to get myself down to San Diego, even if it meant taking the train, which would have been fun, actually, but not workable, time-wise. This particular group has invited me on other occasions in recent years to join them for their brainstorming and networking sessions, but my life was booked solid with family and work obligations, and there was never a window of opportunity, especially since the members meet all over the country, and travel is always involved, which is half the fun, of course. But this time the stars lined up perfectly, and even though there was driving involved, I was ready, willing, and much more able than I realized, to make the trip.

Driving is tough for people with back problems, and I can rarely go for more than a half-hour without feeling the pain. Riding in a car isn’t usually a problem, probably because there’s wiggle room, and my back likes lots of wiggle room. This is why I wasn’t looking forward to a two-hour drive and had tucked some Tylenol and a bottle of muscle relaxants in my bag. But, I didn’t need either! I drove the entire two hours without a pit stop—or popping a single Tylenol. Is that a woman of steel, or not? I probably should have stopped to stretch, but I didn’t even do that. I can’t explain how it happened, except that my back must be healing now that I’m no longer commuting from one state to another, hauling multiple suitcases, and caring for my mom, who required a good deal of physical help.

It’s very easy to neglect your own health when you’re focused on someone else’s, whose needs are much more critical. It’s an occupational hazard of care giving. I can remember my mom’s wonderful doctor diagnosing me with anemia when I took her to one of her appointments. He did it just by checking my eyes and fingernails, but a blood test later confirmed it. The man was a lifesaver—and must have realized that I didn’t have time for my own doctor appointments.

Now that mom is gone, the focus is on my health—and guess who’s been making up for lost time? I actually have three doctor appointments of my very own next month. I know that sounds excessive, but in this age of medical specialization if you have a hangnail, you have to go to the hangnail doctor. It’s all very territorial. If your thyroid’s out of whack, you darn well better find yourself an endocrinologist, because the gynecologist won’t treat anything that doesn’t involve bottoms up and foot stirrups. Hence, three appointments for what I hope will be three fairly routine checkups.

And now, thanks to this road trip, I’m wondering if I need the foot stirrups and the thyroid panels. I’m clearly in better shape than I realized. Isn’t it funny how we discover things about ourselves, seemingly by accident? If I hadn’t taken this trip, I’d still be thinking I couldn’t drive two hours to save my own life. And what a loss it would be if I hadn’t had the chance to reacquaint with writer friends from what seems like another era of my life.

These are wonderful people—screenwriters, poets, nonfiction writers, and of course novelists, but mostly in other genres. It’s a great eclectic mix of sci-fi, horror, thrillers and literary stuff. A couple of us bring the women’s fiction element to the table, and everyone has fun trying to come up with characters and plots for such a varied bunch. It gets pretty wild. And it’s interesting that many in the group are not published in book-length fiction, or full-time writers. They just love writing. It’s in their blood, and they live for these get togethers. I met most of them years ago, when I was unpublished. Some were fellow aspiring writers in my novel writing classes at Orange Coast College in Costa Mesa, and others I met when I taught at a San Diego State University Writers’ Conference.

It was a great reunion. I tossed out my new story idea and they batted it around like a volley ball. Lots of crazy fun. And some good ideas, too. When the creativity waned, we snuck in some sightseeing, taking a road trip into the local desert and then back to the beautiful Mission Bay area for margaritas, chips and salsa. Yum. I could live on that diet. On Saturday, some of us took the afternoon off and hit the San Diego Zoo. I’d been there maybe twenty years ago with my mom, and we’d had a great time, but you have to be in pretty good shape to walk those hills and cover all that ground—and I had some trepidation because one of my health issues is a bad knee. I did great, barely a twinge! Blisters, though. I’ve got a beaut on my little toe.

Of course, the time was over much too quickly, but the warm feelings and the triumphant glow still linger. And thank goodness the highlights of special times can be captured in blogs like this. I’m just so thrilled at how well I held up. I thought I might get overtired and have a rough drive home, but again, it was a Tylenol-free trip. Plus, I got back in time to see the Academy Awards on the new flat panel TV the dh had installed, in high definition yet. Such excitement! Actually, the Oscars were fairly dull except for some lovely moments, but seeing paint dry in high definition would be exciting, so it was a good night. And a great weekend all around.

Suz