We had an entire two week vacation planned half way across the country and knew little to nothing about our newly purchased vehicle.
John had a crash course in electric and water hook up, the difference between gray and brown water, how to maneuverer around road signs and my personal favorite, potty maintenance. The rule was, no solids in the potty, at least in the beginning.
John grew a beard, I thought possibly to hide any uncertainty he may have had. In retrospect, he had it all under control, and what he didn't know he'd figure out along the way.
John took good care of us, but the physical strain of a move and emotional stress of unforeseen life circumstances, had the best of my sweet husband during our journey out west.
He managed his back pain, with little complaint, through Georgia, Tennessee, Missouri, Kansas, Colorado, and Wyoming, but by the time we made it to South Dakota he had hit his limit. His back pain was so severe he was unable to get out of bed. We made an important decision that beautiful, sunny day in South Dakota, I would drive 'The Beast' to the closest ER. Instead of seeing Mount Rushmore that day, we would be visiting the inside of a hospital.
I share this story now, not because of the tragedy of John's condition, but for the humor I can muster up as I reflect on the events four years ago.
You see the moment we figured out John was incapacitated, we were still hooked up to our campsite. My stepson, Jack, and I were on a mission to get everything unhooked as fast as possible while poor John lay in the bedroom in agony. Without Jack that morning, I'm not sure we would have exited the park without driving away with a hose or wire trailing behind.
I literally had not one clue, so Jack gave me a crash course in RV break down. The water and electric were easy, but when it came to unhooking the sewer pipe, I was mortified. "I'm not touching that!" I told Jack with an 'I can smell it' face. He looked at me and I could tell he knew he was a goner. If he didn't do it, I was prepared to drive the RV away with the sewer line still attached.
Jack has been my hero every day since. Lucky for me he was helping his dad all week and he paid attention. That was the day Jack stood up and became a man in the family (since his dad couldn't stand at the moment).
I finally scooted behind the drivers wheel, it's big, it's long, it's intimidating. I put 'The Beast' in drive and nothing happened. The kids looked a bit nervous at this point. The chocks were still in place, of course they would be. I looked at Jack, we quickly run out to remove them. I finally hit the road, slow and steady, very slow and very steady. I'm sure I held up traffic that day. I prayed for no hills and we made it to the ER, alive.
John was soon sitting in a private room in the ER. Who would have known South Dakota had such incredible healthcare? I immediately knew he was in good hands when I met his beautiful and lovely ER doctor. She treated him with pain meds and put all of us at ease. By the time I decided to take all four kids to Flintstone Land John already had the nurses smiling.
We all loaded up The Beast to play meet and greet with Fred Flintstone and friends, Fred was a good distraction for the kids. We road bedrock trains and cars. We all secretly missed John, but we did a good job hiding it for photos.
When the hospital finally discharged John, it was to another hospital to take tests. Once again I'm driving the RV/Ambulance, and John decided to get out and check under the back wheel, after he heard a scraping noise. This is the pivotal moment I almost run over his head. Poor John, all that morphine must have helped him keep his cool; thank god he yelled loud enough before I moved one more inch.
That day we survived the ER, me maneuvering 'The Beast', Flintstone mania and John nearly getting his head squashed. Oh the memories!
The next day we made it to Mount Rushmore with all our heads intact.
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