A dear friend was admitted to Waldo County Hospital last week, and I couldn’t go see her. Couldn’t make myself go. Probably could have, but argued myself out of it – family and friends were with her, I reasoned. If there’d been no one for her, yes, probably I could have.

 There are lots of places I don’t go, but Waldo tops the list. Actually, except for Subway – yes, Subway where every couple of weeks we’d stop for lunch – I’ve gradually re-introduced most of them into my routine, made them mundane again. Yesterday it was Bangor, the first time back up Route 1A, without Wally driving and me knitting.

 The Colonial in Belfast, anywhere in Rockland, the Portland airport, Ocean State. Wasses’ Hot Dogs. Reny’s, where he’d browse the shoes and shirts while I gathered up the stuff we’d come for. Aubuchon’s for chicken feed. I’ve reclaimed them all. Hannaford’s is still hard.

 But Waldo’s been my nemesis. For weeks after he died I couldn’t even drive north on Route 1, the drive that at times last year was my daily commute. Most of those days two trips that always found me standing at the elevator, pushing “2” knowing he was up there waiting for me.

 The diagnosis of a serious illness tosses both the patient and his nearest and dearest into the rabbit hole, that is, the medical world. Appointments, tests – scans, X-rays, MRIs, “procedures” that start in the day surgery unit – hospital stays, ambulance rides, prescriptions, pill boxes with two or three little slots for every day, insurance hassles which can become a part-time job in itself. Life changes drastically.

 And most awfully, is the discomfort, the pain, the disability of the illness itself, suffered by the patient, but borne too by the nearest and dearest. These are the manifestations of disease, while underneath it all lurks fear, the fear, of course of death.

 And yet I think of his journey toward the inevitable end, our journey really, as relatively easy. Fifteen months start to finish. Of course, a week would have been better, but then we – both of us – would have missed out on the blessing.

 The blessing of illness it’s called. Wally made friends in the rabbit hole; in Dr. Connelly’s oncology clinic, in the ER, on the way to x-ray, on the med/surg floor. He joked with the physical therapists, called everyone by name, knew their dogs’ names for goodness sakes. When I called him early every morning to ask how his night had been he’d skip right over that and tell me about the nice guy who’d been his night nurse.

 And he got better. We, his friends and his family, watched him fight to get out of the wheelchair, out of the walker, and to leave the cane behind. He spent hours on the recumbent bike Andy Hazen brought him, worked hard with the PT and OT people who came to the house, built up his leg muscles walking around the Beach parking lot as the sun rose. He made himself eat when he wasn’t hungry and regained much of the weight he’d lost.

By Common Ground Fair time he was able to walk with me. He climbed Frohock, alone, and snagged the huge mitake mushroom he knew would be waiting at the base of a certain oak tree. He went hunting in November, sitting at his favorite spot on Frohock, waiting for “his” deer to come strolling by. We had Christmas all together. And finally, even when we knew the cancer was back, he walked up to the Capitol in Augusta, wearing the pink pussy hat I’d knit, to join the Women’s March in January. Eight days later he died.

 I wonder if it was this 15-month journey that eased him into the acceptance of the inevitable, so that when the day came, three days after the Augusta march, when we learned there would be no more remission, no rescue, he said simply, “that’s not the result I wanted to hear,” and then got on with saying good-bye to all of us.

 I really try not to re-live last year much. But the “anniversaries” keep cropping up. He came to last year’s Strawberry Festival, sat outside in the drizzly fog for a couple of hours, talking and enjoying himself. By Tuesday he was back at Waldo with pneumonia.

 This year I’m thinking of all the caregivers who travel this journey with their spouses or parents or children. Many have it so much harder than I did. I see it on their tired faces and wonder how they manage.  For some, there’s no preparation whatsoever. Death comes in an instant, unexpected as they say.

 I’ll let myself remember for this one year only; next Strawberry Festival will just be the anniversary of the last one, which as it turns out, was the best ever. Hope many of you were there.

Slab City Road Closure

Starting Monday July 10 Slab City will not be a through road until Labor Day or thereabouts. A new open bottom pipe arch culvert is being stalled at the outlet of Coleman Pond, about halfway across Slab City. This type of culvert provides a more natural stream bed making fish passage easier. See more details on the town’s website.

The next in Waldo County/PenBay Hospitals’ series on healthy eating will be held Monday July 10 and 17 at the Community Building, 1-3 p.m. Are you curious about what it means to eat a plant-based diet? It does not mean that you are a vegetarian. Join us to explore the ease and health benefits of eating more plants than animals.

These classes are free and open to all.

Archaeologist Harbour Mitchell will be presenting "Philip Ulmer and the Archaeology of His Last House" on Wednesday, July 12, 7 p.m. at the Library. 

Ulmer was a Revolutionary War hero and one of the founders of the town of Lincolnville. Two years ago Harbour led an archaeological dig at the site where Ulmer built his last house in the early 1800s.

Harbour will show photos and tell about Ulmer’s early life, experiences during the Revolutionary War, and first years in the Ducktrap area. Then he’ll describe Ulmer’s house and what remains at the site and explain what he and others who participated in the archaeological dig found and learned. 

This coming Sunday afternoon, July 16 at 4 p.m. Miners Creek, a Rockport-based bluegrass group will be performing at United Christian Church. Following the music a reception featuring the avian art of the group’s lead singer, Resa Randolph, will be held in the Community Building.

“Miners Creek brings its own distinctive down-home, Maine-grown voice to bluegrass music. The band's sound is rooted in the bluegrass tradition with a heavy sprinkling of folk, Latin, Appalachian, blue and old timey gospel.

 “The band began as a trio with song-writing mother, Resa, and daughter Emily playing guitar and bass while blending their harmonies with husband/dad Whitney playing banjo and mandolin.  In spring 2017, vocalist Emma Theobalds and fiddler Jenny Karod joined the band.” Admission is free, but free-will donations will enable the UCC to sponsor future events. Call Mary Schulien, 785-3521 for more information.

112th Camden High School Alumni Banquet

This year’s CHS Alumni Banquet will be on Friday, August 11 in Point Lookout’s Hedges Hall, 67 Atlantic Highway, Northport. Reunion classes will have reserved tables: ’42, ’47, ’52, ’57, ’62, and ’67. The deadline for buying tickets, $30 each, is Friday, August 4. Send a check to CHS Alumni Assocation, to Sheila McFarland, 448 Youngtown Road, Lincolnville 04849, including a SASE for your return tickets. As usual there will be special recognition awards, a silent auction and more. Contact Pam Tibbetts, 236-4893 or by email if you have questions. For a ride to the banquet, contact Diann Henderson, 691-3549. David Ames,  789-5118, is the one to contact with auction items.