When we arrived at the Prestwick Golf Club in Highland, Michigan there was a cold, bitter wind that created temperatures worthy of winter coats, hats, mitts and wind pants. I watched the players brave the weather as they teed off on the first hole of 36 in the first day of the Detroit Titan’s Invitational. Knowing that there was a second day ahead with another round, I was a bit leary of the 15 hours of walking. Remaining positive and not wanting to complain, I was slightly worried as am very aware of my limitations and how far my energy stores will take me. I was already tired from my busy previous week, and my neck was causing me some grief from extended computer time. Bringing my thoughts back to the players, I noticed how focused they were on their game. Their calm and determination to play in the poor weather conditions motivated me to continue to follow.
After the first round my husband and I snuck away for a latte and lunch. I could feel my rheumatoid arthritis sneaking up on me, but ignored it as we rushed back to follow the last 14 holes of the second round. Being able to watch your child do what he loves creates so much pride that it over rides any thoughts of giving up on yourself. And so, as my fingers, toes and knees began to stiffen as I moved steadily forward keeping my eye on the ball at all times.
After 2 rounds and dinner at the club with the team, we headed back to the hotel. At this point, it was too late; I had initiated a flare. I went straight to bed, and woke up the next morning to nausea, a low grade fever, pain and swelling. Moving through the motions of getting ready, I talked myself into making it through the last 18 holes of the tournament. Rain was added to the weather menu, so we brought umbrellas and prayed for the storm to pass. By the time we arrived on the first hole, the rain had subsided and we were left with wind and cold.
Simon played exceptionally well that last day ending with an overall 5th place; his team was awarded with a first place finish. We celebrated with a nice lunch in the quaint town of Midland. Once back at our hotel, I looked down at my fingers that I was unable to bend or straighten. My knuckles were swollen and red, and my hands were set in a crippled stance. I took more medication and decided that a nap might do me some good. Waking up an hour later, I was in such a malaise state that I rolled over and slept another 10 hours.
I woke up this morning to the sun shining brightly, a hot shower, more medication, and a hearty breakfast. Feeling slightly better, I was ready for the 7 hour drive home. Back at home and as I write this I wonder if I made good decisions while struggling through my physical limitations of walking 50 holes on a rugged course through bitter temperatures and gusting winds. Pain and low energy levels are indicators I should listen to, and yet, my love for my son set precedence as I couldn’t miss one minute of being part of his life’s passion. Next year, on this same week of April, I will be back pushing my limits as I spend time with my son.
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