I have never forgotten it.
Back then I was twenty-four. I was young and healthy.
Fifteen years later, I would be suffering from out-of-control diabetes, venous stasis, blood clots (DVTs), a diabetic ulcer on the bottom of my foot, endless doctor's visits and hospital stays, home nurses, IVs, etc. I was unable to work, not really able to walk long distances, or really do much of anything. It felt like my life was over.
This project was born of this suffering - the desire to go out and be whole. To walk the world again. To make a difference. After two years of poor health and after dealing with a failed marriage, I want to do something that will give me a purpose again.
So this year, I brought my diabetes under control through diet and exercise - whatever exercise I can do with a hole in my foot. This month alone, I have dropped ten pounds. The wound vac came off of my foot in June, and the ulcer was totally healed. Things were looking good. I even went on a few trial walks. The foot was very tender, but it seemed to be holding up.
The question in my mind - will I be able to make a journey next year without purse or scrip with my health condition??
When I planned my anniversary trip/ reverse honeymoon to New York City with my ex-wife, Temple, I had the "Without Purse or Scrip" project in mind. In particular, I wanted to know what it would be like carrying a backpack.
It has been in the back of my mind what I will take on my journey. I have been making an inventory list in my mind of what I will take, and what I will not take. And this because of the Bible. In Luke 9: 3 it says:
And he said unto them, Take nothing for your journey, neither staves nor scrip, neither bread, neither money; neither have two coats apiece.
My first Manhattan trip was in 2005. The advice I was given was to travel light, since a person will do so much walking in New York. So on my first excursion, I took a small satchel with one change of clothes and some toiletries. But I wanted to look good for my first visit, and so I bought a new outfit, including new, shiny, black shoes. My first day there, I walked 50 blocks. When I took my shoes off that first night, I had blisters all over my feet. The next day, we resorted to taking the subway instead of walking.
So the first vital lesson I learned about any journey on foot - wear shoes that are comfortable, not fashionable.
A few days before our journey to New York, I talked to Temple about my plans. I was going to travel with the backpack I use for my laptop - but without my laptop. I would take one change of pants, underwear, socks, three t-shirts, diabetic supplies, phone charger and wound care items for my feet. I could take this bag as a carry-on on the plane, and carry it around easily with me around New York. Temple bought a backpack as well.
Before the trip, my foot was totally healed. But I had been helping Temple move out the week before. Being mindful of my foot ulcer, I had not lifted any furniture, but I had packed and lifted many boxes. And after Temple moved out, I helped Martha start to move into Temple's old place, as it is bigger and in better condition. Once again, not a lot of heavy lifting, but a lot of constant activity.
One night, I took off my shoes and socks and noticed a spot of blood on my sock. I couldn't help it. Tears came to my eyes. Was this never going to be over for me? I started bandaging my foot, and I made sure that I stayed off of my feet. But the wound kept opening up again. I had this New York trip staring me in the face. Should I go? I already had tickets. I already had a hotel room reserved.
So two nights before I left, I took some Super Glue to my wound. It worked like a charm. It stopped bleeding.
I went to New York with my diabetic shoes on. In my bag, I took syringes with saline solution to clean my feet, petroleum gauze strips wrapped in foil, Q-tips, gauze pads, gauze wrap, cloth tape, and Ace wrap. After two years, I know my wound care.
Our first day in New York, we did a ton of walking. Using the backpack was perfect. Temple's pack only had one strap, and she complained about that, because it was impractical to shift from shoulder to shoulder. Of course, everyone I was with was mindful of my feet. We took the Subway as much as possible. We rested often on the many park benches. But it was still a lot of walking. My feet were very sore. By the end of the day, I could feel something going on with my toe.
When we got back to the hotel, the moment came that I was dreading. I took my shoes off. The ulcer on the ball of my foot was fine, but the tape that I used to secure the gauze wrap had slipped over my fourth toe and kind of strangled it. There was a huge blood blister on the bottom of the toe, and an ugly, purple hematoma all over the whole toe. Temple was mortified. There was also a huge watery blister on the bottom of my left foot.
Maybe this trip was not such a wise idea, after all...
The next day, I wrapped both feet very well, for extra padding, and I made sure that the tape would not slip around my toe. It was still a lot of walking. We took the subway often, but my knees were starting to get stiff from going up and down the stairs. In the evening, we were in the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art, and that was the worst. The constant standing in place while looking at art was murder on my feet and legs. I could feel that all-to-familiar feeling of pressure as my legs and feet swelled up.
The night of the second day, I cleaned the ulcer and re-bandaged it. Then I quietly took the shoe and sock off of the left foot. My entire sock was covered with blood from the newly-developed blister. I didn't want to alarm Temple, so I discreetly bandaged it and hid the bloody sock in my shoe before I went to bed.
The next morning, I had a rude surprise. My extra pair of socks that I had packed in my bag was somehow not there. They must not have made it into the bag. I went to get my dirty pair of socks. But they were missing as well. It must have got tossed out with the laundry when housekeeping had cleaned our room the day before. So I had one dirty sock, and one bloody sock. There was no way that I was going to put the bloody sock back on, so it went into the trash. With one sock on, and the other foot with no sock, Temple and I walked around Midtown on a Sunday morning, trying to find a store that sold men's socks. No luck. We found a women's store and bought a colorful set of women's ankle socks. I put two socks on my left foot, and we spent our last day in New York.
At this time, I was starting to get worried. I have had deep vein thrombosis (DVT) before, and I know what blood clots feel like. Both of my legs were swollen. As long as I was sitting or walking, they felt okay. But the moment I just stood still, the feelings of pressure and pain in both legs were tremendous. I started to wonder if I had blood clots in both legs. I didn't show Temple, but I was very worried. Did I kill myself coming on this trip?
We didn't do as much walking, and, in the evening, we took the train back to JFK. Temple and I went through security. They require you to take your shoes off. I had a suspicion, and I waited until the last possible moment to take my shoes off. When I did, Temple gasped. Both of my socks were blood-soaked. As I walked through the metal detector, I was leaving bloody footprints on the tile floor. I was humiliated, but no one said anything. I put my shoes right back on and walked straight to the bathroom. In a stall, I stripped off my bloody socks, put fresh ones on, tossed the bloody ones in the garbage, and then joined Temple at out departure gate.
The flight back to Phoenix was bad. Sitting in one position for five hours was almost unbearable. My legs were so swollen I could hardly bend them, and yet I had to jam myself into a cramped airline seat. Then, upon arriving in Phoenix, we had to make the three plus hour drive up the mountain back to our home.
By the time I got back home, I had walked all over New York, flown back to Arizona, and driven across half of the state. As soon as I got home, I stripped out of my bloody socks and changed my bandages. The socks, again, went into the trash can. Then I collapsed into a feverish sort of sleep. I had hallucinations. I kept waking up Martha, because I could feel mice crawling all over my feet. I just knew they were mice, and I had Martha pull back the covers to expose them. There was nothing there, but I swore there were mice, drawn to the blood on my feet.
After two hours of sleep, I went to the ER. I had to see if there were blood clots in my legs. Much to my relief, an ultrasound showed that my legs were free of clots (although both of my lymph nodes were swollen). The swelling was caused by my venous stasis. The valves in my veins don't work properly. Blood goes in; blood has a hard time coming out. The ER doctor also determined that my INR was astronomical - 4.6. Due to my history of DVTs, I have to take blood thinners for the rest of my life. But my blood was too thin. That was why the blisters on my feet were squirting out blood and filling up my shoes. From the ER, I went home and slept the rest of the day.
I went home and propped my feet up. I was so depressed. I texted Temple about my whole experience at the doctor, and she answered me, "I feel bad. I feel responsible. If I had known this would happen, we would have never gone."
"Don't you dare, Temple," I answered. "New York was important for us. We needed to go on this trip. I know that I'm going to be okay."
As I write this, it is two weeks to the day that I left for New York. My feet have healed remarkably fast. Within three days, the ulcer on my right foot totally healed up again, and there is a layer of tender, new skin growing on my left foot. I am still very tender-footed.
When I left on this trip, part of my reason on going was to gauge my physical abilities for the whole "Without Purse or Scrip" project. And I am forced to admit - New York kicked my ass. And that is just walking around one city. How am I going to handle hitchhiking across the country?
However, I am still going to do it. Call me stubborn.
When I told my daughter Sophie (who is going to college for physical therapy), she told me that I needed to use the time between now and my departure to get in shape and train. I know that the key to getting over my propensity for feet problems and diabetic ulcers is to lose weight and control my diabetes. I will have to develop strategies that will be prevent New York from happening again.
Why am I doing it? Part of it, I am sure, is that I refuse to admit that, at 42, my life is over. And I also remember the blessing that I received eighteen years ago.
There has to be some sort of healing in all of this.
My failed marriage is a part of it. For years, the purpose of my life was to represent plural marriage. That is gone from me now. As I watched my relationship disintegrate, I tried to find a purpose to my life, and this project came to me overnight. So whether she realizes it or not, Temple is my muse. It's all about her. I will try to make something of my life. I will live the rest of my life to make her proud of me.
Thank you, Moroni
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