I was sitting out on deck 7, reading and writing and minding my own business, when Lee came out. He had lost the little silicone piece on the end of his earbud. I was really sorry to hear that (especially since I was going to need to use the earbuds during our nightly Skype check-in with Delaney). He hovered behind me, waiting. Finally I asked if he needed something else.
“I want you to help me look for it. You’re good at finding things.”
Ah. I packed up my book and computer, and we went looking. First we upturned the furniture in the Fyzz lounge, where he had been hanging out. Then we ransacked our cabin. Finally, while I was rummaging in the depths of the closet, Lee found the errant ear piece–under his pillow. Problem solved. I went back out to my lounge chair in the sun.
Half an hour or so later, re-appeared next to my chair. I looked up.
“Now we have a real problem.”
I stopped writing, mid-sentence, and waited.
“I think I’ve lost my wallet.”
“Do I need to come help you look?”
“Yes, please.”
I closed up my computer, and followed him up to our cabin. We thought it through, together–when he had last had it, where we were when he pulled it out of his pocket–mentally retracing our steps. We got to our room, and once again turned it upside down, looking. We took turns looking in the closet, under the bed, in the safe, in the far corners of all the drawers. We checked behind each other, even going so far as to use my booklight as a flashlight for peering into dark corners.
No wallet. We knew he’d had it when he paid the cab driver in Mexico. We knew he’d had it when we re-entered the port. That’s where the trail went cold. He must’ve dropped it. We listed the contents, double-checking each other, just to be sure, and he pulled out his computer and headed down to the internet cafe to get on Skype and start canceling things. I went back to my happy place on Deck 7.
When I went up to dress for dinner, he listed off the cards he’d canceled, and what we’d have to do to replace our driver’s licenses (yes, he was carrying mine for me). Luckily we had left our passports in the safe, so we didn’t have any real problem, just some minor inconvenience. I changed into a skirt, and was brushing my hair, when he pulled on his khakis. He’d hung them upside down in the closet, to keep them from wrinkling (we had packed light, and were re-wearing things). We must’ve missed the actual pocket part when we were looking for the wallet, because THERE IT WAS. In his pocket. What a relief–we haven’t started losing things (yet).
It got me thinking, though, about how we work as a team. We have different skills and abilities–we complement each other. One of us often a second set of eyes for the other, a fresh perspective. But sometimes, it’s not about the actual functionality. What matters most, sometimes, is the moral support. When you’re facing a crisis, or a missing earbud, having someone in your corner cheering you on can make all the difference in the world.
This was especially important back when we were first figuring out how to incorporate Lee’s heart disease into our lives–it was essential that we were both on the same team. I think this is true for everyone–a major lifestyle change (unless you’re a total hermit, living in a vacuum without human contact) is only possible when you have a support system. Weight loss, or nutrition overhaul, or smoking cessation or the building of fitness can all take years. Cholesterol management (or diabetes, or asthma/allergies, or a zillion other long-term conditions) is a lifelong proposition. YOU CAN’T DO IT BY YOURSELF. You need to let the people in your life support you. And if you live with someone who needs to make a lifestyle change, or who has a chronic condition, you need to talk to that person about how you can help.
Go team.