Author:  Teresa Spangler, This month's article submission for Women's Edge Magazine 

Every month I explore a person, story or circumstance. It may be an individual doing extraordinary things in life or a company that has engaged clever ways to build teams or social responsibility among its employees.   November is the month American’s give thanks! This month I share an emotional view of Over the Edge one that opened up my eyes and provided me a view (glimpse) into the future.  I share the story below of a typical day in the life of each of us where our experiences may make us stop and take notice of our lives making us thankful for what we have.  These experiences are always around us… but if we are over the edge busy or over the edge closed we may not always experience life’s little lessons to our benefit.  So I am thankful that I can stop to tell the story below and I am Over the Edge with emotions as I read it myself again feeling for what & who we may never remember one day!

The Over the Edge Story of the Month:   Heading Into the Clouds

My  San Francisco business trip, for the first time in a long time, was a delight. . My business partner from London  had joined me for the week of meetings in San Francisco. His calm slow contrasting lifestyle was refreshing …a good example for me actually. My intensity for meetings and working seemed so foreign to him.  After a week of walking endlessly and surviving a slight accident, .  Now after 4 days of walking, meeting, soaking, shopping,  eating at Garlic Factory “pinot drinking” “starbucking”, people watching, eating and heavenly bedding consciously electing to rest my soul from all the noise of the past few years, I head off to the airport for the full day of travel back east. 

Every other trip I would have worked non-stop. Something clicked with me this trip, long overdue and I took control of my own time and stole some for myself.   The only exception to my relaxing trip was Wednesday morning after a Tuesday evening “black diamond’ fall on the concrete slopes of downtown San Francisco walking the steep hills   from dinner on the wharf back to our hotel.  I recovered quickly from the slip falling hard, flat on my butt only catching myself with the palm of my hand before landing back just missing a head bang on the concrete.  I jumped up quickly! My partner had a hand on my elbow guiding me up. Not to be seen as a weakling,  I yanked my mules (shoes) off my feet and walked the remaining five blocks of hills barefoot.  Not until the last block did I notice the intense straight pin sharp pain as I stepped sole first on the sidewalk and inconspicuously limped the rest of the way back to my hotel so my colleague would not notice. Allowing a small pain in my foot to ruin the experience of this trip (or at least allowing my partner to see visible signs of pain!) was not an option.

The next morning my feet were so swollen and the pain from the piece of glass that appeared to be stuck in my foot, regardless of my effort to dig it out, so intense I had to force my foot into a pair of shoes that did not match my suit pair I brought for my trip….a pair of 2 inch $300 Ralph Lauren heeled, pointed toe pumps.  Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!  Off to breakfast I walked trying to grab something quick to eat prior to day and evening of meetings.  I am barely able to make it step by step to the Starbucks just across the street on the far corner… I limp my way in, order my venti decaf  & 12-grain muffin then hobble to a sitting area to quietly eat leaving my shoes on afraid if I remove them I will never get them back on again.  I stand and as soon as the weight hits my foot I vow to anyone who will listen in Starbucks amidst the blasts of lattes and cappuccinos being made to order, I must be at the doors at Macy’s, which is right across the street, at 10am upon their opening to buy the largest, most comfortable shoes I can stuff my foot….ok, they have to at least be presentable by my standards, of course.   I have exactly 15 minutes to find, try and buy a pair of shoes from one of the largest shoe departments on the planet.  In less than ten minutes I am out the door an oversized pair of non-descript shoes on my way to a series of meetings on a trade show floor.

I always wonder what purpose events have in life. The week’s events with my painful foot just had no greater possible purpose, it must all be just a horrible annoyance I am thinking on my way to the airport after my week of merger and acquisition discussions, some downtime and a glass impacted, running shoe with no shoe strings clad foot, facing the airport security lines, the lines to my gate, the lines to get on the plane standing for a ridiculously long time in the jet bridge, then entering the 747 greeted by smiling female robots. I make my way to my seat, 24F, the aisle always.  I am really anxious to get home to my family, my daughter, my husband and our dog.  The thought of us sitting down to dinner around our kitchen table engaging deeply in a conversation we call “life lessons,” for our daughter’s sake, with our big white polar bear looking Samoyed named Gucci making her rounds nudging each of us with her nose under our elbows wanting to be a part of the discussions sets deeply in my gut.  

I land at 24f uneventfully.  As I place my belongings in my temporary living space I notice my seat mate (usually eye contact with your seat mate is taboo).  Immediately I felt a different kind of trip shaping up as I glanced at my seat mate.

She was a grandmotherly women sitting very still, her trench coat still cinched at her withering waist, hints of blond under her gray hair shining in the bright glare from the plane window’s sunlight streams, her cane in her right hand knuckles red from the intensity of the grip and her purse in lap with her left hand clutching the straps with similar strength as it lay peacefully.  It was not until I sat down that I noticed her eyes, they were not obvious even at first glance.  Tear traces appeared to remain and her eyes were redden not by the light but with a certain fear and sadness.

I am not sure how I knew but I just knew, from the lost look on her face or the emptiness of her eyes that she was both afraid and unaware of where she was going. 

She asked me where I was going and I told her home to Raleigh, NC.  She said “that is nice.”  I then asked her where she was headed and in a split second I realized her red eyes were tearing, her stare went blank and my heart sank feeling her pain and frustration.  I quickly changed my question to, “did you enjoy your stay in San Francisco,” and “ what brought you here.”  This finally jarred her recall. She was on her way back to Hartford CT where she lived with her retired son and his wife and the tears silently fluttered down her wrinkled thinning cheekbones. 

The women barely moved our entire trip, her hand remained clutched to her purse on her lap, her eyes gazed out the plane window for much of the flight and her coat remained tightly wrapped around her.  Every 10 to 15 minutes she asked over and over, of this two movie, meal service and dim the lights for the remainder of the flight trip,  if the agents took her tickets…she could not find her tickets (they were in her hand which was slipped into her purse pocket to guard them the entire trip), or where we were going, or if she had to change planes and what would she do if she had to change planes.  Would there be someone to help her when we got to….where are we going?  Am I going there too, can I help her if I go there too.  I would pretend to watch the movie (whatever it was can’t remember) or work when I just could not bare the questions any more.  My own eyes  welled up, my chest pumped double speed, my legs weakened with every repeated questions and  I tired from the support of holding her emotions up.

Will I age gracefully and be one of those women that live past 100 taking dancing lessons, writing, walking, skiing or will I die a slow and painful death of forgetfulness, a forgetting that has no turning back.  Not knowing my family, their names, their children’s names, not knowing my daughter or husband… the weight of emotion welling up inside of me is more than I can take in right now. Fear so intense, stop you in your path fear,  realizing I could be this women one day overcomes me. At the same time, I just can’t help but feel her knowingness of her disease’s effects known at some level even to her.  Then it strikes me as I shift from my feet up settling into further unrest in my seat, the sharp spiky pain in my foot runs up my calf almost numbing my emotions and I realize my weakness for pain.

I tried to comfort her by telling her I would stay with her, make sure she got to her gate and ensured her the tickets were safely tucked in her purse and to not remove the staple closed envelope (which she shared with me wondering what her daughter wanted her to do with it) with  “DO NOT OPEN” written on the front and the back.

I had a difficult time reading and focusing on the movie and could not stop thinking about her blank stare out the window for almost the entire trip. What was she thinking about?  Was she remembering the precious once a year trip to her daughter’s home in CA where she just left?  Was she trying to remember her son’s name and what he looks like so she’ll know him when he picks her up.  Or were the clouds and open space offering some type of simple meditation, a mind quieting experience allowing her no thoughts, no questions in between lightening strikes of fear as to where we are going, who was going to help her and where were her tickets.   

She and I never did ask our names.  I did not even realize my nameless new friend had no name until parting from her in Chicago. She only asked me where I was going and wanted to know if I was lived in to Chicago and if I would be getting off in Chicago and did she have to change planes in Chicago (once she knew we were going to Chicago after each memory lapse).  I wondered how she got on the plane and who must have helped her. Did her daughter and son-in-law escort her to the gate?  Had her grandkids kissed her goodbye before they left home all of them hugging her with great but hidden sadness and forced back tears?

We finally landed in Chicago!  During our descent into the area we once again, reviewed all the instructions and I considered walking her to her gate myself at the risk of missing my own flight just to be sure she got there safely and with comfort not fear.   Who will be there for me, for my mom, for my husband or daughter in years to come if we are struck by this awful disease?  Is she being brave tackling such a trip alone, trusting that someone will be there to help her? Or maybe she had no choice at all, her son needed a break, his sister had to take her in for a few weeks so he could be alone with his wife and his own children for some peace of mind.

She finally told me (after me asking one last time) the ticket agent escorted her on the plane.   As though she had just remembered what had been arranged, I felt her great discomfort and wonder, however, over the truth of this newly shared information.  I assured her I would make sure she was taken care of several times and then as I began to stand I saw the tear floating quietly and secretly down her cheek and her scared eyes looked into mine asking if she too should get up (as she simultaneously started to lift out of her seat).  I placed my hand on her trenched coated knee instructing her to stay put, the airline attendant would come to get her very soon but all the people (which she could see) behind us, had to get off the plane first.  Just before leaving her, she once again, asked me if she should come with me or stay there and I said “just stay right in your seat for someone to come get you”, wondering if indeed her daughter or her son had made those arrangements (even though I had asked the flight attendant early in the flight if she was to be assisted and she assured me she would be helped to her next destination). 

My body moved forward, I fight a limp from the pain in my foot through the isle as my mind lingered in 24F, before leaving her sight I asked her again if I should stay with her, if it would make her feel more comfortable if I stay until they came to get her and she said no she was fine and commented on my sweetness all through flight and how most people seem to be irritated by her.  The sadness as I looked back gripped my heart and squeezed my stomach.  I could barely breath watching her face grow with fear as I left.  I felt helpless for her, as I moved toward the exit to deplane.  The flight attendants were deep in friendly ground chat when I nudged one of them back to 24G to assist my new friend and ease her fears that someone would be there to help her!   Stay! Keep going?  Why did I not stay! Feelings over came me of guilt for not staying with her.  All I could do was pray that they would indeed help her.  In a last effort, I stressed how scared the daughterless mother looked as I was leaving and to please go back to her now and to my comfort she moaned the typical “awww” and started toward 24G to begin her repetitive assistance.   

We are all heading into the clouds one day and we will all need someone there by our sides when we do.  I can only hope that I meet in my path someone who cares enough to not mind the intrusion on their time and not some heartless, stoic my 24G friend described as irritated by her needs!  And I hope this month’s over the edge story brings some thoughtful introspection to my readers who I know all to well, like myself, strive for over-achievement sometimes neglecting their dreams, their passions and just taking in a moment for yourselves every day!  We are all souls on this earth needing care and feeding of from each other regardless of our age, our heritage, our wealth, our backgrounds or our genders.  Enjoy and be thankful for every moment in your life today for one day, you may not remember any of it!