I had been afraid to go to do the
Camino on my own
what if I got sick, what if I got
lost, I didn't speak the language.
So you know conquering a fear
like that is very empowering.
I'm Margaret Lynch and five years
ago I walked the Camino de Santiago
pilgrimage in Spain.
to celebrate the 25 year anniversary
of my cancer survival.
It was a journey that changed my
life.
I had a rare form of acute leukemia.
And at the time there was no
treatment for the rare form
that I had
and so I had all kinds of treatment
over four or five months.
I was in hospital and
I had life-threatening infections,
I had a seizure that put me in a
coma
and none of the treatment worked.
And then I had
an experimental bone marrow
transplant
which should not have worked but it
did.
I was living on my own,
I had a great job, I was fundraising
for the hospital that had saved my
life.
Just a dream job.
Had a beautiful apartment and
I had good friends.
It was a very good life.
But sometimes I was lonely.
So I decided to start dating.
Did I mention I was 56?
So I
met some decent people,
some broken people.
And way more liars than I thought I
would meet at that stage in life.
And then of course there was a very
painful breakup
and I thought, "I've just got to do
something for myself."
"You know? What's wrong with me here?"
Rather than waiting for somebody
else,
I thought, "Time to do something for
myself and by myself."
So I booked my trip to Spain.
Two months later, there I was.
So, overnight flight,
Toronto-Madrid.
hopped on a bus, four hours
from Madrid to Astorga, through
the greenish hills of
northern Spain.
And that first night I arrived
around dinnertime and I thought, "I
need a good night's sleep."
Booked myself into a hotel,
but first I wandered through town
looking for Camino markers.
So I woke up the next morning, put
on my headlamp.
There was nobody else around, I felt
like I was the only person awake.
And I crossed the town square and
headed into
the road I knew I needed to
travel.
but there was nobody there, it was
completely dark,
seemed much narrower than I
remembered.
I was scared and
but also excited and I thought, "I
just didn't come all this way for
nothing,.
I didn't come here - I didn't come
all this way here for
nothing."
So I put one foot in front of the
other and I started walking.
and that narrow street spilled
out onto the main road leading out
of town
and an army of pilgrims absorbed
me.
I just started walking.
And I followed the crowd.
Even on that first day, I knew it
was a gift. It was a perfect
blue-skied day,
and we walked 20 kilometers and
it was perfect.
And then came the rainy days.
Eight days of rain.
Every single day.
Waking up to rain, walking in the
rain. It was horrible.
Absolutely horrible.
The only reason I got up and walked
is because everybody else did.
And I would've looked
like an idiot if I didn't.
And I
yelled and screamed
and nobody heard me because
the winds were raging
and I was climbing up hills and
slipping and I was
sort of yelling and screaming at a
universe about how -
you know, an uncaring
universe.
You know, I've had some tough times
in my life.
There were days where
I actually made a decision to
stay on my own,
to walk an extra three kilometers
to go to the next village
so I could spend some time on my
own and reflect on -
my life and what I was doing with
it.
Other than the 25-year anniversary
of my cancer survival
there were other things that had
happened in my life, not so much
fun.
Two marriages.
With no children. So I was on my own
again at 56.
The first marriage took place during
my cancer treatment
when it seemed like I would die.
Kind of a love story moment.
And it lasted six years.
The second marriage had ended three
years before my Camino, after
14 years.
And that one....
that was tough, I fought hard to
keep that alive.
I was reluctant to admit defeat.
And yet when it was over there was
a-
there was a big sigh of relief.
But I wondered
I wondered what would be next.
Walking
puts a lot of strain on joints.
I had walking sticks which helped
but, so, physically I was tired,
mentally, I was,
what's the right word?
Proud. Proud of the accomplishment,
proud that I could still do that.
Probably proud because of
what cancer had done to my body.
And being able to reclaim
my body back after
after that treatment.
So I booked into a hotel
very impulsively, Hotel O Pino,
in the middle of nowhere.
Seriously in the middle of nowhere.
And I decided I was going to treat myself
to a single hotel room
and my own bathroom
and I soaked in that tub until
my skin pruned.
It was the most exquisite,
luxurious thing I had done in
in two weeks.
And then I headed downstairs for
dinner
and I was the only single person
at the table
but I did not feel alone.
And then Heide started to tell me
she started to tell me her story
about why she had done the Camino
because everybody has a reason for
doing it.
And she had dedicated hers to her
young grandson
who had been recently a recipient
of a bone marrow transplant.
And I hesitated because I don't
share my story often
but in that moment
I
trusted that it was the right thing
to do and I told her.
And it was
a healing moment for both of us
because sometimes when I tell that
story
people look in horror.
She looked thankful.
Her face softened and she looked
thankful
and I know she was able to imagin,.
like she saw somebody further
down the road that her grandson was
travelling
and that gave her comfort, I knew
that
and she told me that.
And for me, it was a healing
moment
because I got to share my story
with somebody
and to help them, which helped
me too.
And at the time, I knew that it was
special,
I wouldn't have been able to
articulate it five years ago.
And that got me to thinking about
the day that I booked my Camino two
months earlier
when I'd asked myself, "What's wrong
with me?"
And maybe now, I had the makings of
an answer,
and maybe the answer was,
nothing at all.