Not the "trix" I planned...

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have officially spent seven full days at home... in bed. My doctor has diagnosed me with COVID.

Again. For the fourth time.

Honestly, at this point I'm starting to wonder if COVID just misses me.

Thankfully, this round hasn't been nearly as bad as the second time, when my partner at the time was only minutes away from calling an ambulance because my breathing was so laboured and my heart rate had dropped. So, all things considered, things could certainly be worse.

The timing, however? Absolutely terrible!

I was supposed to head to my parents' cottage on Friday and start a 5 day whitewater kayaking course on Monday. I'd booked it months ago. In true "girl math" fashion, it was actually cheaper to buy a used whitewater kayak than rent one for the course, so after spending far too much time researching boats, I found the cutest little purple kayak.

Naturally, I named her Trixie.

Then I got sick.

As the week went on, things progressively got worse. Since my daughter had strep throat the week before, my doctor and I assumed that's what I had too. We tested immediately and started antibiotics right away.

Now, antibiotics and I have never really been friends. They made me so nauseated that I started throwing up, which made me question whether they were helping at all.

Then the strep test came back negative.

After I described the rest of my symptoms, my doctor said, "I think you have COVID."

Great. Just great.

Seven days later, I'm just now starting to be able breathe through my nose, my ears feel like they're permanently plugged, my balance is questionable, my energy has disappeared, and I can already feel the muscle I've lost from lying around all week. I may have lost a few pounds too... which, depending on the day, isn't necessarily the worst news.

The big question became: Do I feel well enough to paddle for an entire week?

The answer was painfully obvious.

No.

Of course, like any stubborn adult who briefly reverts to being a child when told they can't do something, I tried to negotiate. I even messaged the Madawaska Kanu Centre to ask if I could attend part-time. They were incredibly kind and told me that would be fine—just speak with my instructor.

But the more I thought about it, the clearer it became.

Whitewater paddling with plugged ears, poor balance, and almost no energy isn't determination. It's a safety issue.

So I contacted them again and postponed the course until August. Unfortunatly it will have to be 2 days instead of 5 but it is better than nothing.

The funny thing is, I still have the week off. With my job, switching vacation weeks isn't exactly simple, and if I'm honest, I'm not quite ready to go back to work anyway.

So... I pivoted.

Instead of spending the week getting tossed around in rapids, I'll head to the cottage once my parents leave on Monday. I'll rest. Sit on the dock. Gently paddle my paddleboard. Practice asana. Journal. Read. Spend time with my dog.

No adrenaline.   No rapids. Just stillness.

It's not the vacation I spent 2 months preparing for.

But it might just be the vacation I actually need.

Calling the Kanu Centre to postpone wasn't easy. It felt a little like admitting defeat. But the course will still be there in August. The river isn't going anywhere.

Sometimes life asks us to listen—not to what we want, but to what we need.

And that's different from settling.

I'm not walking around thinking, "Oh well." This isn't resignation. It's choosing what serves me best in this moment instead of clinging to the plan I made months ago.

For those of you who've been my students over the years, you'll know that my personal practice for nearly two decades has been aparigraha—non-attachment, or learning to let go.

Notice I said practice.

I'm certainly not perfect at it, which is exactly why it's called a practice.

But moments like this remind me why it matters.

I could be angry. I could demand a refund. I could write off the whole week as ruined.

Instead, I get to shift. I get to adapt.

I get to appreciate that spending a week at a whitewater paddling camp is a privilege. So is having a family cottage to retreat to. Those things aren't guaranteed.

I'm not settling.

I'm simply choosing to enjoy what's in front of me instead of mourning what isn't.

And if Trixie has to wait a few more weeks before she gets to play...

Well, I suppose she's earned a little vacation too.