The plan all along was to follow two and a half weeks on the road with the kids with a one week completely alone. Friends with a cabin on the tip of Lees Point on Hayden Lake offered me a week of silence to begin the more quiet work of the two month sabbatical I’ve been given. I arrived out there Monday evening with a plan to return to Spokane today.
Along for the ride to Hayden: my mountain bike, computer, swimsuit, juicer, prize knives, a case of DVDs, and two boxes of books that included Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (read before), How To Cook Everything (cookbook), National Audubon Society Field Guide to the Pacific Northwest, Dale’s Bruner’s Matthew Commentary (volume 1) and several collections of food essays.
I like options.
I packed along frozen berries for fresh juice smoothies, plenty of vegetables, and plans to cook Mexican, Japanese, Chinese meals as well as slip into Coeur d’Alene for one or two meals… something from one of Adam Hegsted’s restaurants and the epic food I’ve heard is coming out of the kitchen of Cafe Churo.
Monday night… a little too pleased with myself… I steamed broccoli, whipped up some couscous, and sauteed a chicken breast with a browned butter and balsamic reduction. Afterwards I sat out on the deck: brilliant blue sky, Ponderosa Pine and Douglas Firs providing just the right amount of sun and shade, a light breeze.
The fact that there wasn’t an internet connection seemed fitting for the expressed purpose: slow down, begin to think in more than short imperative sentences, rest.
The problems with my little plan surfaced Tuesday. By afternoon the slight cough that I showed up the day before was joined by a fever. I skipped a prepared dinner in favor of a little milk, graham crackers, and peanut butter.
That night I started sweating and shivering. Three digit temperatures continued through Wednesday and Thurdsday and three nights and days of fever drug on forever. Friday morning, rather than providing a break in the fever, brought a tick up to 102 by 8 a.m. and I declared my quiet week at the lake a bust.
“Surreal” would be one way to describe my fevered attempt to pack, clean up, and drive the hour and a half back to Spokane and a doctor. A chest xray later and I officially had pneumonia.
Describing the week in advance, I’d jokingly described it as a chance to curl up in a ball or crash. I just didn’t expect it to happen so literally. Let’s just hope all the fever and sweat kicked out some of the toxins that have built up over the number of leading up to this sabbatical.
