Megan Parker Artist

Stories From The Trails: Megan’s Story

When my boys were just a year and a half old my health took a severe nose dive. I spent the next entire year on and off IV therapy. I navigated horrible side effects including hearing loss, vestibular symptoms, joint pain so severe I would have given birth to twins again a million times over. I started to develop allergies to these drugs and was becoming more resistant to them. I had to go on disability from a career that shaped my identity and that I loved very dearly. I relied on childcare even though I wasn’t working.

After a year of this ever-constant, never-ending cycle, I spent 2 weeks in hospital to get the stronger grade meds – except I ended up being moved into an overflow staff-lounge-converted-hospital room because the hospital unit was overcapacity. There were no windows and I had to roll my IV pole through other patients’ rooms just to use the bathroom. My depression flared up until I wasn’t even recognizable to myself. I was so unbelievably deconditioned from literally just lying in a bed for 2 weeks straight.

Nevertheless, the weekend after I was discharged, my husband and I found ourselves with babysitters for an entire day and we headed out to the mountains…

It was *pouring* rain and freezing cold, despite it being the middle of the summer. My lungs hurt going up. I was incredibly out of breath and needed a lot of breaks to maintain a ridiculously slow pace.

The entire ascent, memories of previous attempts at climbing this mountain flooded me. Like the first time, when I coughed up a massive amount of blood and, later (after the shock and fear wore off), my dad joked that people following behind us on the trail would worry we’d been through a bear attack. Another time, there was too much snow so we had to turn around. Yet another time, we were chatting so much that we completely missed our turn (oops!). The last attempt, I made it up to the col just before the push to the summit, but was so short of breath and feeling feverish and achy from overdoing it, and so I didn’t have enough in me to make it the final stretch.

This mountain was my white whale. And it kept calling me back time and time again.

When we made it to the top, it was so cloudy that we could hardly see anything. It was so cold outside that we barely rested before heading back down. My hands were completely numb from the cold so I couldn’t even take my camera out (and if you know me, you *know* that’s saying something!). In fact, it was such an awful day that we literally had two whole (very popular) mountain valleys to ourselves the entire day. But fuck, I made it.

And so, this mountain will always be a symbolic reminder of my strength and resilience and how stubbornness, creativity, and leaning into supports can keep you going, even in your lowest lows. Even when you’ve failed multiple times over in the past. Even if you’re far from the best version of yourself.

As a final note, I ask that you please remember that there are countless ways to explore the mountains, and every way is equally valid. Whether you can make it to the top of a challenging trail, or whether you venture to an accessible view point. Whether you can go out in any conditions or whether you need to be deliberate with when you go and what you are doing before or after. Whether you need a mobility device, sturdy footwear, IV pumps, supplementary oxygen, additional snacks/water, and on and on... your experience is valid and meaningful. Perpetuating the narrative that one experience is “better” or “tougher” than another doesn’t make you strong, it makes you an asshole.