Mortality

Now that ski season is officially over I'm already starting to look forward to premiere season this fall. With Sherpa's new film, plus TGR's and MSP's, as well as the much anticipated McConkey, it should be pretty epic and it'll definitely build the stoke for the 2013-14 season. This year's premiere season was great; I was lucky enough to attend the Salt Lake premieres of MSP's Superheroes of Stoke, TGR's Dream Factory, and Warren Miller's Flow State. Sitting in those theaters (or classrooms as the case may be; way to go all out TGR) is so amazing; surrounded by like-minded folks, taking in some amazing cinematography, it's the next best thing to being on the slopes. Right up until the in memoriam section.

Every ski film has it in one form or another; it's the section where they show images of athletes and others in the industry who've passed away. There are the rare few honored who were lucky enough to pass away because their bodies could no longer contain their awesomeness (i.e. they got old), but in general the honorees are people like McConkey or Sarah Burke who got into a fatal accident. It's incredibly sad, but it's also a good reminder of the danger that faces us when we hit the mountain.

Mortality is an interesting concept. Being aware of your mortality keeps you taking more time in making decisions, but it can also paralyze you. I know a fair number of people who don't do things because they're too scared of the risks. It's a fair decision, and one that likely keeps them more unscathed than me, but it also prevents them from enjoying some truly spectacular things.

This past year I've had to comes to grips with mortality in a completely different way: my dad was diagnosed with CLL or chronic lymphocytic leukemia. He just turned 62 and has been a Type 1 (insulin-dependent, non-weight related) diabetic for almost 20 years. I got the news from him not a month after moving out and away for the first time which made it particularly hard. I'm the type of person who wants to be there DOING something, helping where I can. I also like hearing the news from a professional (e.g. his oncologist), so getting it second or third-hand is tough on me. Now I realize, this isn't about ME. He's the one with cancer. Cancer, that six-letter word; it makes anyone take pause. And knowing that my dad, one of my best friends, has cancer, well that's hard. 

Like any man, he's trying to be very stoic about the whole thing, so at first I wasn't sure about how he was feeling. Once he finally admitted being scared it actually made me relax a bit. He was taking it all too calmly; I mean, it's CANCER. To put this into context you should know a bit about my dad: he's kind of a badass. Like I said, he's in his early sixties and skis hard, just took up mountain biking, hikes, boulders, fly fishes, he was a total hippie in Berkeley in the seventies, he's an award-winning (over a hundred times) graphic designer. . . Like I said, badass. He quickly adjusted to life as a diabetic and didn't let that slow him down. He's the reason I ski, the reason I love a good scotch, and the reason I'm going for my Ph.D. 

I guess I thought he was invincible, you know. As a kid I guess my dad seemed like something of a superhero and, while I didn't think that way as I grew older, those thoughts never really left the back of my mind, so this news was a blow. Luckily, CLL is one of those things that, upon diagnosis, every medical professional goes "something else will get you before the CLL does." A buddy of my dad's even went so far as to say, much to my mother's chagrin, 'yeah, you'll die skiing first.' All in all, as far as bad news goes, this is the best you could get; but it still got me thinking. 

I'm an adult now (shhh, don't tell anyone), but in my mind I guess my parents are still the same age as when I was a kid. No one wants to think about how the elders in their lives age at the same rate. It's somewhat morbid, and not something that should be weighing on our minds, which is why it startles us when mortality rears its ugly head. On top of all this medical drama my dad's been fighting a nasty infection in his hand; got to love being immunocompromised. He's been in pain and been going to get antibiotic treatments at the ER daily (sometimes twice daily). It scares me immensely.

Earlier this year an avy forecaster died. He was in perfect health, had a wife and kid, and he was gone just like that. There was no warning, no way to prepare except for the fact that his job was innately dangerous. He's not the only skier to die this year; like any year avalanches, crashes, and exposure take their toll on the outdoor community. So what's better: living with mortality looming over you or ignoring it and doing risky things? Can we do both? Is there a happy medium where mortality doesn't weigh us down, but instead boosts us to something greater? Well we can try and see.