THE CLIMB OF MY LIFE
At the age of Kelly Perkins developed a disease of the heart, and after three years of treatment, she received a heart transplant. Ten months later, she climbed to the top of Half Dome Mountain in Yosemite National Park in the United States, and became the first heart transplant patient to do so.
Like life, mountains can be seen as a series of difficulties that you need to overcome. To me, a mountain is the ultimate challenge, with body, spirit, and mind all having to work together. Being sick is a challenge, too. Both challenges involve bravely facing the unknown, and to conquer either requires well-defined goals and discipline. Of the two, of course, I'd rather the mountain be my physical challenge than physical challenges be my "mountain."
Mountains began to consume my thoughts, secretly, I wanted to do something significant to help change the image that friends and family had developed of me. I had been cast in the role of patient. In spite of being very good in that role, I hated being a patient and desperately wanted to change my image. I wanted bruises to be earned from sports- related activities, not from needle pricks and aspirin-thinned blood. At this stage, my self-image was as important to my well-being as anything else. If, I figured, I could rebuild my strength and regain at least some of my former athleticism, an improved image would naturally follow.
I set a goal-to hike the 4,100-foot ascent of Half Dome in Yosemite. I was drawn to this destination by its beauty, a beauty not because it was perfect, but because it was imperfect. Half Dome's shape is unforgettably distinctive because it's broken. If it were whole, it would lose its uniqueness. The spirit-building message wasn't lost on me. Just because I wasn't perfect didn't mean I couldn't stand as tall and mighty as anyone else.
In August of 1996, just ten months after my heart replacement, my husband Craig and I began to hike the trail leading to Half Dome. The trail began with a mild incline, which we eagerly took at a brisk pace. I was winded at first, but as soon as my heart caught up with me, I felt energized. I tried to go as fast as the other hikers, but found it difficult to keep up. The canyon had many steep slopes and deep stone stairs, allowing in very little sunlinght which kept temperatures cool and the rocks slippery.
Though the climb's final half-mile isn't technically difficult, the granite dome, angled at 45 degrees, can be extremely intimidating, especially for those afraid of heights. A stairway is used to climb the last 500 feet to the summit. There was a handrail made out of steel cables, connected to stairs made of thin wooden planks. Thrown along the stairs were weathered work gloves, available to help protect the climbers hands from the "death grip" commonly used during descent Craig, observing the daunting task ahead, gently asked, "Are you sure you want to continue?" Determined to reap the reward for all my effort, I replied, "Absolutely, we have to go on" Step for step, Craig stayed directly behind me, providing a welcome sense of security. When I finally reached the top, I was overcome with joy. Ten months afteru my transplant, I had reached the top of Half Dome! My new heart had not failed me. Craig and made our way over to the edge. Pausing to peer into the valley below, we stood in silence, amazed at how far we had come. As if the moment itself was not enough, Craig surprised me with a gold charm in the shape of Half Dome. He said, "This is the first mountain to add to the bracelet I gave you. As I held the handcrafted ornament in my hand, I was amazed at its likeness. It was smooth on the back, resembling the perfectly bell-shaped dome, the front being chiseled, replicating its famous broken granite face. Craig took a moment to express how proud he was of me, saying, "When you were really sick and I had to help you up the stairs at night, I always looked at the famous Ansel Adams photo of Half Dome hung on the staijrway wall and wondered if wed ever make another climb. We had done it; we were here at the top of the mountain- a long way from those nights of not knowing what the future would bring.