In the ditch again, really?

Well, here is our new car.  And I took it for a drive.  And I found a snowy road and thought, I have four-wheel drive, no problem.  Wrong.  Problem.  My brother, Rob lives down the road and he and a neighbor pulled me out.  They were very nice about too, both having been stuck in a snow bank themselves. 

Fast forward 24 hours. 

 

 Same snowy road.  Great sledding hill.  Daughter and grandsons.  Stuck again.  Call brother.  Irritated today.  But still comes and gets daughter's truck out of the ditch.  

Ok.  I got it now.  That is one road I will not take until spring after the snow melts.

By the way, the sledding was great.  And we'll go again tomorrow.  We'll park on a clear road and walk to the hill.  See how good I learn?

Holidays?

I did not forget you, my beautiful children.  I did not forget all the birthdays this month (well, maybe I forgot them on their day, but then I remembered them and am sad because I forgot them on the right day.  I think of you and love you and I'm sorry I'm more of a flake than usual).

Christmas is almost here and I can't remember all the things I wanted to do and I don't have the energy to bake and I just want a nap.  But tonight mom and I set up our little tree, got it decorated, and put some lights in the window.  I tromped outside in the snow because I couldn't stand not knowing what they look like from the road in the dark.  They look lovely, of course.  I really miss my children this time of year.  And my beautiful grandchildren.  I have much to be grateful for, so many blessings. 

It is interesting.  I don't mourn for dad every day.  I do miss him.  Is this how it's going to be?  A series of firsts for the next year.  First Christmas without him.  First New Year's without him.  And on and on.  I am such a melancholy drag.  But not always.

A friend of mine asked me to teach her class in church in January.  Her grandchildren have birthdays.  I said sure, what's the topic.  She said sacrifice.  I said I know a few people I would like to sacrifice.  She said I think you would be good because you have been sacrificing for your dad.  I said wow, way to pull me back to a righteous track, Janet, good job.  I think she may be having second thoughts about asking me to substitute for her.  I thought it was funny.  I really do know a couple people I would like to sacrifice, but tis the season to be benevolent and kind and such thoughts are so unbecoming a lady.  Good thing I'm not a lady.

On that thought of hope and joy and charity, I will close.  Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas.  I love you.

he's gone

On Tuesday evening, November 30, dad slipped quietly into death.  For a week now we knew he was leaving.  Three weeks ago he was gambling at the new casino in Spokane, and suddenly, the disease he's ignored for two years reared its ugly head and took him.  The last couple days he was moving between there and here, having conversations with his brother, who died 6 years ago, and his wife, who died almost 2 years ago.  He could no longer go from his room to the kitchen or the bathroom, he had trouble expressing his thoughts, a couple times, he didn't know who I was.  But when he remembered what was happening, he was ready for this nonsense to be done and for the next adventure to begin. 

For me, life is now in turmoil.  Mom and I are moving.  We're planning a funeral.  And dad is gone. 

I have not lived in my own home for 14 months.  Unfortunately it's been a repository for stuff dumped here and there in a hurry, just passing through.  And mom isn't even unpacked.  We are in chaos. 

I knew this day would come.  It has been a blessing and an honor to help my dad this last year or so.  He is on to his next adventure, and by default, we are as well. 

My heart is full of missing him.

Too busy living to worry about dying

My boss was gone for several days so I was able to stay home with the folks.  We are all riding an emotional roller coaster, which I suppose happens when one you love is battling illness, and battling, and battling.  And this week I went to see my daughter as well.  She called me from the hospital but the OB nazis said she had to go home and wait some more.  She was so cranky I had to put her in time out.  Poor baby.

The wonderful Hospice nurse, Barb,is coming to help with Dad.  He doesn't want to talk about it to the kids right now.  Said he thinks they are wrong again (three times the medical professionals who have treated his cancer told him he had 3 to 6 months to live...that began 2 years ago).  He said he was planning on spending Christmas with his children (I told him I thought he should tell the kids so they can come visit him now but he got angry...so I just quieted down and asked him if he needed me to do anything for him...no thank you very much).  He looked me eye to eye and with barely a smile on his lips, he told me "If I'm wrong about this, it will be the last mistake I ever make."  I laughed out loud.  Couldn't help it.  Cancer has taken a lot out of him, but not his sense of humor and wit.

He's going to deer camp this week end with sons and nephews, friends and who knows who else, and wants to head for a casino next week end. I have to work hard to keep up with him.

He is so charming and smiles and laughs with Barb.  But before she came to visit on Monday, he said, "let's don't tell Barb what we've decided (what HE'S decided about staying around until Christmas...)  Let's just go along with whatever she says."  Not to worry, Dad, Barb is happy with how well you are doing.  And everyone knows that attitude is as important as any other treatment modality.  Even though his body is getting weaker, his will is not wavering.

I am heading for the coast this week end.  My valiant young niece who has battled cancer for some 7 months died last week and her services are on Saturday.  Then I will go to Katie's again for Saturday night and Sunday. 

I am not looking for lessons in any of this right now.  Today I went to work.  Then I came home.  I'm lucky enough to have a job to go to and a family to come home to these days.  My Dad makes me smile.  My daughter, even though she is not feeling well carrying around a 20 pound bowling ball water baby where her belly used to be, also makes me smile.  She got a sizzling wit from somewhere.  Keeps everyone around her on their toes. 

At this moment, life is incredibly busy.  Soon it will slow down.  Christmas will be here and then be just a memory.  The baby will come fresh from God to show us He still has hope for this old world.  And one day, who knows when...Dad will go back to God.  And there will be a giant Irish welcoming party (is there whiskey in heaven I wonder?).  And Dad will be the guest of honor.  But I have been told such talk is premature.  He has no plans to go anywhere except maybe the casino.  Heaven will just have to wait.  His wives, parents, brothers, sisters, grandchildren, friends, and miscellaneous in-laws and out laws will just have to wait a bit longer for their party.  We're too darn busy here to worry about it right now.

autumn

Harvest is over.  We are continuing to put up the berries that we froze earlier in the year, other than that, canning season is done.  The wood pile is stacked high in preparation for warm fires on cold winter nights. 

At Dad's doctor appointment last Tuesday, she said "it's happening."  His liver and kidneys are shutting down.  He is experiencing symptoms.  She asked if she could make a hospice referral.  He said "yes." 

The hospice nurse came today.  She asked dad about what goals he wanted to accomplish before he died.  He said he wants to go to hunting camp in two weeks.  He also is planning another trip...we just got back from Pendleton, Oregon on Thursday.  That's where Wild Horse Casino is.  He won.  He wins a lot.  Skill?  Luck?  He believes he will win and he does.  Amazing.  He hasn't decided if he wants to go back to Wild Horse or over the mountains to Tulalip Casino.  Then we can enjoy the trees dancing in their brilliant red and golden dresses before they put on the white shroud of winter.  He's still a man with a plan.  He has a list of things he wants to get done.  Arrangements he wants to make.  Things he wants to finalize. His mind is busy.  His heart is busy.  His body is slowing him down.

I know death is part of the human life-cycle.  I believe that if we lived forever there would be no incentive to set and achieve goals.  Procrastination wouldn't matter because there really would be a tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow to start that amazing project, invent that life changing gizmo, write that inspiring book, or discover a miracle cure for what ails the body, heart, and soul.  Death is a gift, but it comes with a price.  The price of having to say good bye.  I hate that part.

I am grateful that I've gotten to know my dad better.  I'm honored to serve him and care for him as he faces death.  A lady at church asked me how my dad was.  I said "he's dying...no that's not right.  He's living.  The dying will happen, but until it does, he is busy living."

Time passes quickly, much too quickly.

I've been away for several reasons.  No regular access to internet mainly.  Blah blah blah...any excuse is a good excuse?  Here I am. 

So what have I been doing? you ask.  Well, pretty much putting one foot in front of the other.  I had a bad patch, but am getting better so that is good.  Working.  Camping with daughter and grandkids.  Cavorting with 2 old people who laugh like they've got good sense.  Speaking of old people, Dad is doing ok.  Mom is doing pretty good.  I am managing.  There we are with the update.

I am not smart, funny or entertaining, but I am here.  Still breathing.  That makes me very happy.  See how easy I am to please.

Until next time...aloha

On the road again

We decided it was time to get out of dodge for a week end so, after some discussion about destinations (we were going to visit family in Montana, but he had a granddaughter's ball game to attend out of town), we chose the North Cascade Highway.  Less than 2 hours out of town, Dad saw an RV park and we pulled in.  No problem.  It's beautiful here, and this trip isn't about the destination, it is about relaxing, visiting, and giving Dad what ever he wants. 

Sunset in Carlton, Washington, last night.

I'M A FREAKIN MECHANICAL ENGINEER
So after we hooked up to electrical, I hooked up the water and tried to fill the tank.  However, there was a little pipe that didn't look like it went anywhere and water kept pouring out of it.  Dad said, "it's just venting the air in the lines."  Nope.  It was venting all the water in the tank.  I don't know if part of that little pipe was knocked off, if the end plug fell out, or what.  I'm not that girl who thinks about why mechanical stuff works.  I believe in magic.  You plug it in.  You turn it on.  And like magic, it works.  I love this philosophy, and for the most part, it works for me.  However, lying in a puddle of water under the camper trying to figure out how to get all our water supply from draining onto the ground, I became a mechanical engineer.  Here is my solution:

"Oh my," you say, "it looks like she jammed a stick into that little pipe there."  "Why yes," I say, "I'm a veritable genius when it comes to automotive repairs."  I did try two other sticks, but they were too small to keep the water from running out of the tank.  This wonderful, perfect stick still allows a small drip.  Problem mostly solved.  And there you go.  Like I said, I'm a freakin mechanical engineer when the circumstances require it.

Must go.  Dad is up and it's time to pretend to be a chef.  He's trying to decide between burnt pancakes or well done eggs.  I love choices, don't you?

Time

Things are slowing down at our house.  Dad is sleeping more.  Eating less.  Talking less.  He fell twice this week end so we are on fall watch.  I'm trying not to hover, but I'm hanging out until his last potty break of the night which usually happens between 1 and 3 a.m.  I may not be able to prevent a fall, but I can't bear the thought of him lying on the floor all night unable to get up.  We're also taking measures so he can take care of himself without getting out of bed and walking into the bathroom, which helps with my fears and worries.

When thinking about death, his death, I get very sad.  Somehow, death has become the equivalent of failure.  He's had an amazing life.  He still has an amazing life.  9 kids.  3 wives.  He's wrecked several cars and one airplane.  And after recovery, he kept driving and flying.  He's worked hard, played hard, prayed hard, loved hard, and kept going in the face of disaster and loss, success and abundance.  He's a good dad, a good friend, a good example, and a good human being.  My dad is not a failure.  Death is not a punishment.  It's a natural part of life and a gift so we don't think we have forever to get things done and then never do them.  He's packed his life full and he's still packing.

I have no crystal ball to tell me when he will die.  But it seems the time is getting nearer.  He wants to go to Montana this week end.  He wants to get through cherry harvest in mid-July.  He wants to go to Yellowstone Park in August.  And he's mentioned going to Arizona again next January.  If will alone can make these things happen, we'll be heading for Arizona in January.  But this is real life.  Real death.  I think the Lord might want him home sooner.  I think he knows that, too.

So we are taking one day at a time and thanking the Lord for the blessing of time.  I'm grateful for the  compassionate people I work with.  I'm grateful for my mom who is amazing and kind and enjoying dad's companionship and caring for him so gently at this time in his life, even though they've been apart for some 35 years.  Closing the circle.  It's strange if I think about it, but somehow feels very natural.  Our family is amazing.  Our little community is very caring. I am surrounded with the tender mercies of so many people who love Dad, who love me, and who care about us.

What else is there?

the t word

Dad said the t word today. "Terminal" cancer.  Up until now he's had kind of a "kiss my butt" attitude toward his illness, but the reality, after a year and a half, has finally caught up to him.  Not that he is in imminent danger of leaving us.  No, that's not it.  Is it that he is no longer in denial?  Or is it that he is no longer in optimism?  Which is worse?  He is very weary these days, and his naps are stretching longer and longer.

We are planning a few week end trips in the next month or so.  And he wants to go to Yellowstone Park in August.  And the cherry trees are looking promising, so we will celebrate harvest in early July, if all goes well.  He is still looking forward, still excited about living.  Still engaged in the business of being a rancher.  He is a man with a plan.

A lady at church said, "I hear your dad is sick. So what's going on with him?"  I said, "He's dying." (Aren't we all?)  But then I corrected myself, "No wait, he's living."  He is making a conscious choice to live, and let the dying part take care of itself. 

His example is amazing.

apple blossom, grandkids, and snow

We had a great week end. Parade, sidewalk art show (I smell like clove soap), a 7 year old birthday party, family out the wazoo, wow it was great.  The weather was a bit windy, but really pretty good.

BUT TODAY IT SNOWED.  For heaven's sake, it's May.  The cherries are in bloom.  The bees are buzzing.  The wind is blowing 60+ miles an hour.  And it snowed at my house. 

At home, the folks are holding their own. Work is work, what can I say.  I'm sitting here in my empty house which is kind of foreign to me right now since I've been at Dad's for so long.  I'll be heading down to my other room at Dad's real soon because I'm freezing my butt off here. 

So I will smile when I think about my kids and grandkids and hugging and laughing, and singing, and having really short people help me decorate a birthday cake, (chocolate sheet cake with cherry frosting and sprinkles, and four part "calipitar" cake with green frosting, eyes, and sprinkles -- what it lacked in design, it made up in taste).  Two children just ate the frosting off their pieces.  

Well, we've put another apple blossom festival to bed for one more year.  It's time for me to head home, cuddle in, and warm up.  Gotta work tomorrow. 

Bless you all.

crumb

I haven't been home much since we got back from Arizona.  AND my internet isn't working at home anyway and I'm never home early enough to call the internet guys and have them tell me how to fix it (I'm on a first name basis with most of the guys there so I already know to turn the router thingy off and count to 10...that hasn't worked any of the 5 or 6 times I've tried it).  So I'm touching base from work.  It's time to go home, but I want to get a word here.

Dad had his scan last week.  The tumors are growing slowly.  Since he is doing so well, his doc doesn't want to get him started on chemo that may make him sick again so we're going back in 3 months to see what is happening and make a decision then. 

Last week end we went to Wildhorse Casino and Hotel in Pendleton, Oregon, and on to Baker City to the Oregon Trail Intrepretative Center.  Wow.  That was something.  And you can still see the wagon tracks across the high desert there.  A good time was had by all.  I did not gamble much...did a little swimming, a little reading, a little eating (okay, a lot of eating--they have great buffet meals!).  Very restful.

IT'S SPRING or a good imitation of it at this moment, and I'm loving it.  Apple Blossom is coming up, and I'm really looking forward to the chaos, the family, the food, the children and grandchildren.  Makes me smile to think about it. 

Life is quiet right now.  The folks are doing well.  And I'll be back more regularly if I can ever get my internet up and going.  Take care everyone.

Really?

72 F and sunny in Quartzsite, Arizona on Tuesday
27 F with snow on the ground in Ely, Nevada yesterday
Pictures later.  We just got up and are heading down the road, hopefully before it starts to snow. 

HOME TODAY!!!

Captain's Quarters

 

So the sad news is that Mom and I are on our way home.   Rob showed up night before last with Dad's car and he's going to stay with Dad until things are figured out at Mayo. So, yesterday we packed the car, loaded the gun--yes I'm serious, my mom is a pistol packin' Mama.  She hangs it on the seat behind her within easy reach.  Holy crap.  She says if it's not hidden, we don't need a concealed weapons permit.  We stopped in and saw Uncle Oscar and Aunt Mollie at the hospital in Phoenix before we left (he's been sick),  and hit the road.  Last night we stopped at a little motel in Quartzsite.  I'm not sure what the name of it is because Rodney didn't give me a reciept and there is nothing in this "room" with a motel name.  He said he was giving us "the Captain's Quarters, a very large room and the nicest one we have."  I went looking for the room (the buildings are all detached) and finally went in and asked Rodney to show me where it was.  He came out and pointed to the above structure.  Mom said "you mean the little double wide there?"  And Rodney replied, "No, the Captain's Quarters."  Okie dokie.  It was dark and late and we were tired and we said "thanks" and drove over to the Captain's Quarters and sure enough, it is a 2 bedroom double wide.  

The lights don't work in most of the rooms, perhaps fortunately, and it was cold so I turned up the furnace which strangely made no difference, and we unpacked our stuff for the night.  The worst thing about it is the odd smell.  Yuk.  Well, a few minutes later there's a knock on the door.  No peep hole in this door, I told Mom to get the gun and back me up (it's late and this little beauty is parked near what appears to be a biker bar--did I say that?), and I opened the door.  Outside is --surprise--a biker looking guy in a black leather vest, a very nice smile, and big tattoo on his arm (it was too dark to tell what creature specifically was decorating his large left bicep), and he is holding a small space heater.  Did I mention he looks very happy--glazed eyes, big beautiful smile, nice laugh (sort of like a serial killer I would imagine).  He said, "You're propane tank is almost empty and I don't think your heat will run for very long so I brought you this."  I have no idea who this guy is (not the maid, that's for sure) don't know where Rodney is, and Mom's getting tired of standing behind the door holding the gun, so I take the heater, say "thanks," shut and lock the door.

Oh my gosh, we laughed like we had good sense.  The front door locked, even so, I pulled the end table in front of it.  Mr. Tattoo Guy looked like he might have trouble navigating obstacles and I figured if the door opened, I've have time to grab the gun next to me and shoot (I got the front bedroom).  But unfortunately, the slide locks on the back door were a quarter of an inch below the holes they belonged in, so we couldn't really secure the back door except with the door knob lock.  That's okay, we did bring our watch dog.  Oh wait a minute, she's blind and small, but she's fierce and will make a terrible welt on your ankle if you piss her off.

It is morning now, and we woke up laughing.  What a wonderful way to start the day.  And guess what? The light in the bathroom and bedroom were on.  They are the energy saving florescent lights and it takes 4 hours for these beauties to warm up and turn on.  We won't have to shower in the dark.  Hooray!

We are packing up and heading north today in search of more adventures.  It's so fun to travel with someone who has a sense of humor.

Keeping in mind we're in the middle of the desert, this is the sight that greeted us this morning as we were packing the car (it's decorating the back of the biker bar):

Here's to fair skies and friendly winds.

Mayo

Dad and I went to the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale, Arizona today.  Unfortunately, the records that were faxed over yesterday didn't get into his file, so we had to recount what we could remember of the progression of Dad's illness.  This doctor was impressed with how well Dad is doing and said as long as he is doing so well, she wouldn't recommend he do anything medically.  However, if he starts to have symptoms, pain, or scans show the cancer growing, then there is the possibility of future chemo treatments.  She needs to see his records, go over his scans and possibly compare them to a new scan, and wants to see the pathology slides so she can confirm the type of cancer cell he is fighting.  This information may also give her an idea of a different kind of chemo to try.  She is the first doctor who said there are still treatment options.  Which makes me very happy.  And somewhat suspicious.  She did say any treatment option needs to be balanced against potential side effects and Dad's quality of life.   

Good doctors have told Dad there's not much more they can do other than keep him comfortable--his own doctor, two doctors at Fred Hutcheson Cancer Center in Seattle, and a highly recommended cancer specialist who is also a cancer researcher in California.  Can all these medical professionals have made a mistake?  Is this Mayo doctor just blowing smoke up our collective rear ends?  Or is there something she knows that the other doctors do not know?  The Mayo doctor did concur with all the other doctors in defining the eventual outcome: this disease is terminal, nothing she can do will "cure" him.  Now why doesn't that make me feel all warm and fuzzy?

This medical maze we live in and are experiencing even now is a real challenge.  We want hope.  Hope makes Dad happy.  Me too.  All of us really.  But are we giving up anything to have this hope?  If it just costs money, then that's ok.  But what if he is spending precious time away from home...away from his family and friends who love him, away from his orchard...the dirt and trees and sun that runs through his body as surely as this cancer does?  Is that a good thing?

We do not know what she will recommend after she has a chance to review all the records.  She may completely concur with the other doctors.  And if she doesn't, if she offers alternatives, I guess Dad will consider his options and make a decision.  The decision isn't mine, that's for sure.  Nor can anyone else make this decision.  He has to.

She said this is not typical esophageal cancer, it is slow moving, so the pathology may be different, meaning a different chemo may be effective in holding at bay for a longer period of time.  She also said any chemo regime she recommends, his own doctor can administer it so he can be home.

No, I don't completely trust this doctor.  But at this moment, I am enjoying the glimmer of hope she has presented.  The rest, we'll deal with later. 

Phoenix-Glendale

We were in Blythe, California yesterday speaking with a cancer specialist and researcher.  He is the first doctor who said dad wouldn't qualify for a clinical trial because of his heart.  Since his heart surgery, his function has been lower than normal, but more than it was before surgery but not good enough to participate in a clinical trial.  Why hasn't any other doctor told him this after he has expressed over and over a desire to get into a clinical trial?  He's tried about all the chemo he can take.  It's why he wants to go to Mayo.  This is so wrong.  And the doctor, when reading dad's chart notes, said to himself as much as to us..."why do doctors give people a time frame?  How do they know?"  Obviously not much.  The first doctor gave him 3 to 6 months in September 2008.  Duh.  When I said, "the tumor in his esophagus is gone.  The lymph nodes in his chest are clear.  There are some small encapsulated tumors in his liver.  So he's getting better, right?" The docter said, "His numbers are going up.  The cancer is growing.  It's going to get him eventually."  Not what I wanted to hear.

But generally, Dad is, as always, optomistic and positive.  He says he probably has another 5 or 10 years in  him before the cancer gets him.  And he believes it.

We're sitting here in a hotel in Glendale, Arizona in the midst of massive traffic, bunches of people, motion and comotion.  It was much quieter and more peaceful when we camped on the desert near Quartzsite.  From here the plan is to visit family in Ajo near the Mexican border.  Then we'll head  home.  We'll be home Sunday, February 28 or before.

His Mayo Clinic appointment is this afternoon at 4:00.  We may just eat dinner somewhere near the clinic and give the rush hour traffic a chance to subside.  Driving a monster motor home around in this traffic with the parents giving advice...not a pretty picture. 

I think Dad feels good about what he's finding out.  He's curious if the docs at Mayo have anything new to offer.  And then the question becomes, how long will the treatment take, how long does he want to be away from home, and what's the projected outcome?

This is an odd nomadic life we've been living the last couple weeks.  It's been wonderful to see such new landscapes, meet interesting people, and not have any deadlines.  Just wake up in the morning and ask, "well, what should we do today?  Wanna stay on the desert one more night?"

Every day is a new adventure.  My blessing cup is running over.

In The Desert

Here's Dad enjoying himself.

 Me and Mom with a plethora of cacti and other desert plant life around.

 Note the wonderful hat I'm wearing.  What do you think?  Really.  

Tell me the truth now...do you love it as much as I do (the hat I mean)?

Here's my back up hat that I wear when we go out because they won't go anywhere with me when I wear the other hat or if they do, they pretend they don't know me.  Now isn't that just rude?











Hats aside, we're having a wonderful time.  It hasn't been without its challenges however. Mostly mechanical.  Not serious, just irritating.  Lake Havasau City was a cliche of how I pictured Arizona--pink stucco everywhere, palm trees, cactus, wide streets, rocky, sandy desert,
hot sun...and to make it really interesting (not part of the cliche) the London Bridge.  No kidding.

We stopped into a little place called Palo Verde for lunch.  You'd think a place called Palo Verde would have Mexican food, right.  Nope.  Had a great Ruben sandwich.  With sweet potato fries.  Num. 

We're in a beautiful park tonight.  Charging up the batteries and phones and computer, filling the tank with water, and all that kind of thing.

So that's what's up for now.  Let me know about the hat thing.  Hideous or wonderful?  Either or both of them....  Dad's hat is great.  What about mine?

Oh and next time, I'll tell you about the book store we went into.  The owner is famous for being the naked book store owner.  I thought he was a statue but my gosh he started moving and I realized, goodness I haven't seen anything like that in a LONG time!!! Not everything mind you. He had a little crochet triangle...very little, covering the guy parts in the front.  From the back, nothing but bottom.

On the road

Well if it's not one adventure after another, I'll put in with you.  We made it to Oregon okay and when we got to Jackpot, Nevada we stayed at Cactus Pete's RV Park and Casino (I know, weird, huh).  We got there Saturday and stayed Sunday so Dad could see the Superbowl, which he missed most of because of some card game....  But, on Saturday night the heater went out.  Then on Sunday night the space heater I bought went out.  Crap it was cold.  And mom talks in her sleep and flops around like a fish on the bank praying for rain.  It was awful the first couple nights.  So I'm cold.  I'm laying next to mom who is talking and flailing about and around 2 in the morning...that's it.  I got up, got some clothes on, and we headed south.  Dad woke up.  Mom was up.  She felt bad because, who knows what they do in their sleep unless someone is rude enough to tell them (that would be tired, cold, cranky me).  We stayed in Ash Springs.  Which I don't know why it's called Ash Springs because there are no springs and no fires or ashes as far as I could see.  It was high mountain desert, lots of sagebrush, some cactus (kinda cool), and a lot of nothin else.  There was a gas station with a killer bakery.  And it wasn't as cold as Cactus Pete's RV Park.  A plus as far as I am concerned.  So Dad wants to make it to Bullhead City, Arizona, past Las Vegas, through Laughlin, Nevada and just across the river where he once had some service done at an RV repair shop that he doesn't remember the name of and can't remember exactly where it is and not only that but we got there at 4:30 but in Arizona time it was 5:30 so everything was closed anyway even if he could remember which he didn't.  So we stayed at the Golden Nugget Casino and Hotel.  They have a great parking lot for motor homes, camp trailers, and semi trucks.  No backing up monster motor homes.  Which still isn't my strong suit although I haven't hit anything of consequence yet, but I haven't really backed up yet so there's still time. 

Sooooo, this morning I got up early and went in search of a motor home repair place, which I found one, thank the Good Lord, and they seemed quite busy but the lady at the front desk said...maybe you flipped a fuse.  Like I haven't checked all the switches and pulled all the fuses out to make sure the little metal z part was all in one piece.  Which I had.  So Justin, a very nice young man pulled the motor home into their "fix motor home" space and plugged the monster in and guess what.  The lights went on.  Just like that.  When Justin came in with a little deal he stuck in the outlets to see if they were working...they were, I said, "Justin, you're awesome."  He said, "Wow, this is the first time anyone ever thought I was awesome for plugging a motor home in."  Apparently, I had too many things running and flipped the fuse at the plug in thing in the RV park (who knew those things had a breaker thingy that flipped if you tried to run lights, a heater, and a computer?).  Now I know.  So then, he looked at the furnace gauges and moves one little piece of metal that got misaligned and he aligned it and, bam, just like magic the furnace comes on.  I tell you what, it was a great day in hat rock for this mechanically challenged woman.  So then I go in to pay the bill and guess what.  No charge.  What a kick.

We're staying one more night in Laughlin and heading for Quartzsite, Arizona tomorrow.  I'm waiting to hear from Mayo Clinic.  I have requested an appointment for Dad.  He was thinking he would just wait till after he visited friends in Quartzsite, but I said, "Dad, what if it takes them a week to get you in.  If you wait another week, we'll have a real problem because I'm scheduled to work on March 1."  This is a fact he has been aware of since we left home.  At least that little detail is finally taken care of.

So as far as gambling goes, I'm a terrible gambler.  I've lost money on the slot machines, the crap table, and playing cards.  I was seriously considering going to church on Superbowl Sunday but Jackpot doesn't have a church, any church as far as I could tell and the nearest one was 30 miles or so away.  Can't take everyone's house and leave for 3 hours to go to church, now can I?  Nope.  So I lost money.  I should have gone to church.  It would have been better for my soul and my pocket book.  My sister said it was a lesson from God.  If I would have won, I would have wanted to gamble more, but as it is, I've been pretty much hanging out.  Bought myself a hat.  Mom almost barfed when she saw it.  I think it looks Arizona-y.  Blue feather.  Beaded turquoise medallion.  Black kinda bolero thing with a chin strap.  I'll post a picture of it if I can get one of them to take it.  They threatened to make me go to dinner by myself if I wore it.  Didn't. 

Other than that, we all seem to be managing.  Whipped them at rummy the other night.  That was good.  No one is sick.  That is good.  We're heading south to visit with friends and family, and that is good.  So all in all, everything is good.

It's been a fun adventure so far, and I expect it to be even funner coming up.

Here's to fun!

I forgot

Sometimes I forget that there is magic.  Perhaps "magic" is the wrong term in this instance.  I forget that the Lord in his tender mercies helps me find the way through the confusion and darkness and into the sunshine.  Always.

Dad is better.  The oncology nurse figured out what was going on.  Meds change, no longer any Tylenol in his combinations, terrible inflammation from other problems he has, and extreme pain.  Different new meds, and he is recovering. We're packing the motor home and planning to launch tomorrow.  Dad wants to go to town first, which I almost got irritated about, but then I thought to myself, "hey self, this isn't really about the destination, it's about the company and the journey.  It's about the experience and opportunity to be together.  This is an emotional archeological exploration.  Once I remembered that, everything was fine.  My blood pressure returned to normal, I smiled and said, "OK Dad, whatever you want is fine with me."  And I meant it.

Life is good.  I'm trained on the monster motor home.  Sam has told me at least a dozen times "wide turns, wide turns."

Lord, don't let me hit anything with the tail end of the monster or pop a rear tire on a high curb, or something awful like that.  I just want the trip to be peaceful and enjoyable.

I'M STINKIN EXCITED!

So if I don't write for awhile, it's because the folks aren't into internet cafes.  But I'll post when I can.

so where's the magic?

I hate this dying thing.  It's a family process and I feel honored to be able to serve my dad during this time.  But...come on already.  I just want him to get better, be better.  Darn it.  I want MAGIC.

Dad's pain meds were changed and he's a royal mess. He's spacey and flat.  His pain is 10 out of 10.  Rob talked to his doc and got some ideas how to manage it better.  We're not on hold forever for the trip, I don't think. I think it's just a meds mess.  We're packing the monster motor home in preparation for take off.  Once we get the pain problem handled, we're on the gone plan.

Sam came over this morning and I got Motor Home 101 training.  I know how to hook up the grey water and black water hose thingy (Yuk), turn on the interior power, level the thing (sort of), hook the water and power up, and was told to take WIDE turns.  Oh boy, this is going to be interesting.  I'm a wreck (no pun intended) driving in big city traffic in my car.  Where's my sign "student driver" to stick on the back?  Do you think other drivers will be nicer to me if they know I'm a newbie?  Probably not.

Look out Arizona.  I'm hitting the road soon.  In a monster motor home, no less.  I think I'll be the ninja monster motor home driver.  Flow through traffic and no one will even know I've been there.

We're all excited to get out of Dodge.

The Adventure Begins

My dad has been planning a trip "south."  He wants to get another opinion about his cancer from Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale, Arizona.  He wants to see friends.  He wants to go south because that's what he and Carmen did every winter.  He has this picture in his head how it's all going to work.


I have become part of the 3 musketeers.  Dad and Mom, at Dad's invitation, with me as driver (mostly, Dad said he's driving too...), are heading south.  Dad has the iternary in his head.  I'm hoping to get a map.  We'll be gone for most of a month.  Thank the good Lord for an understanding manager at work for allowing me this time with Dad.


We're taking Dad's 27 foot motor home.  I'm going over to Sam's, our neighbor who knows everything, and he's going to train me on Motor Home 101 today.  How to do motor home stuff that needs to be done while you're on the road.  I have no idea.  I'm a tent person.


I'm excited.  I'm apprehensive.  I'm ready to get out of town right now.  But we won't.  Dad has an appointment with his accountant tomorrow. 

Soon though.  Very soon.