Swimming to Antarctica_ Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer - Lynne Cox [105]
In the middle of June I decided to leave for Alaska. I had some sponsorship from local companies and individuals. Some of the kids whom I had taught to swim handed me their weeks allowance and wished me good luck on my swim. Their parents wrote out checks too. I was so touched. Alaska Airlines came through with one airline ticket, which I used for Dr. Keatinge; an outdoor clothing company gave us some sleeping bags; Quaker Oats gave me a check for five thousand dollars; and Johanna Zinter, a friend from Los Alamitos, had T-shirts made and sold them to raise money for the swim. The local high school swim team did a swim-a-thon and raised $230. Friends sent checks, and so did some people I had never met before but who believed in what I was trying to do. It was wonderful and very humbling. I knew I would think of all of them often, especially whenever I hit a major stumbling block.
All of this was helpful, but it wasn’t nearly enough pay for the project. Once again I asked myself, How can anyone believe in me unless I believe in myself? So I emptied out my bank account. That, along with the contributions, paid for the crew’s transportation, the rental house, food, phone calls, a helicopter (if we could get a group rate), and the support boats (if they were reasonably priced). Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough to pay for my plane ticket. I couldn’t take out a loan from the bank, so I took one out from my folks. All of this was hard; it took everything I had, emotionally, physically, and financially.
Dr. Keatinge called and confirmed that he would provide the medical support along with Dr. Nyboer; and Dr. Nyboer said he would bring his father out for the swim. Out of the blue I got a call from a man from New York named Joe Copeland. He had read about the swim in April in an article in the New York Times. He said we had a friend in common. Joe had a background in fund-raising for major events, and he offered to help in return for having his expenses covered.
And I had another volunteer, Maria Sullivan. We had met through the Special Olympics. She had volunteered as an organizer for the Special Olympics, and I’d gone to the games as a guest athlete, to meet with the athletes who were participating.
Maria had read an article in People magazine about me while she was in a hospital bed in Los Angeles. She said what caught her attention was what I said about cold and pain—that I didn’t focus on the pain of the cold; I focused on getting through it to the other side. She said she was using this idea with her own pain. She had fallen four stories from a building and had broken her back. She’d had rods implanted in her back, and she was just starting to sit up again. She asked if she could help me. She knew I needed support, and it would divert her mind from her pain. I thought about it, and eventually she started making phone calls for us. She had her mother lighting candles at a local Catholic church and saying prayers for us. Then Maria offered to come to Alaska at her own expense to help out. It was a tough call for me because I was worried about her health. Finally I realized that she needed a chance as much as I did. I said I would love her help, but she had to watch herself. I didn’t want her to have any problems in Nome. In fact, as a precaution, I asked her to speak with one of the physicians at the hospital in Nome to make sure they could take care of her if the rods presented her with a problem. And I told her that if permission came through from the Soviets, I wanted her to remain on Little Diomede. I was afraid she would have a problem in the umiaks, and more than that, we would need someone to stay in touch with us as well as with the outside world. Maria would take some of her first steps in Nome. And