Sick

File under: Things that scare me about the adventure to come

(Pexels.com)

I parked my truck, gathered up the things I’d brought with me, leashed Fretless, then went inside the building and looped around to Dad’s door. I knocked. Waited. Knocked again. Waited. In came the thought that often creeps up when I can’t get hold of him, one that is perfectly natural given his age: Is he gone for good?

The door opened. Dad stood there, shirtless, in sweats, looking like hell. He stepped back, I stepped in, and I smelled it. This was a sick man.

I guided him to his recliner and got the details. Upshot: He’d been unable to keep anything down or in since noon the day before. I bit down on scolding him for not calling me. Didn’t make much difference now. I called an ambulance.

---

The good news: It was just a stomach bug, a particularly pernicious one. Fluids in the ER, a couple of prescriptions, and he was good to go back home. A day later, he was (mostly) fine.

But you can probably see it coming. I know I did…

Forty-eight hours later, I was on the receiving end. It was a doozy. Cost me a day of work. Felt like garbage. I’m thirty-one years younger, with a better immune system, so it was less of an ordeal for me than it was for Dad, but I’d just as soon not experience it again.

But you know what they say: Wish in one hand, shit uncontrollably in the other, and see which fills up first.

---

(Pexels.com)

It’s probably the thing that scares me most about my upcoming leap into the unknown of nearly full-time RV living: What happens if I get sick? What happens if someone I love, hundreds of miles away, gets sick and I have to get there?

As to the first question, certainly, I understand the risk. I have resources in my fixed location: a doctor, friends, loved ones, a community. It’s a different, variable situation out on the road. The second question is already in play in many ways, and the answer is the same as it ever was: I’ll deal with it when the time comes. When my stepfather had heart surgery, for example, I just rearranged my schedule and went to him.

In terms of my upcoming journey, I’ve protected myself as much as possible. I have a policy that will transport my RV should I be incapacitated. I have good health insurance. The important people in my life will know where I am at any given time.

I worry about Fretless most of all in these as yet theoretical situations. Who will care for him if I’m unable to do so?

One thing I’ll have inside the RV is a laminated list of numbers to call. You know, just in case.

---

Still, I’m going. Why wouldn’t I? To be paralyzed by the fear of what could happen is to never do anything worth doing. And that’s unacceptable to me.

Interestingly, where and how Dad is living now have released me to this journey. In late December, he moved into independent senior housing with access to more services should he ever need them. The VA has done a remarkable job for decades of seeing after his basic health needs, but he still needed me for rides to the doctor, grocery shopping, etc. At his new place, he has socialization, home visits from the VA, and access to rides when he needs them. It’s a gift for both of us. I’m parlaying the gift into something I’ve wanted to do for a long, long time. I’m a contingency guy, someone who game-plans the game plan, looks for gaps, and tries to fill them before they become crises. I’ve put those tendencies to good use in the run-up to my departure, but chances are good I’ve missed some things and will have to figure out how to deal with those when the moment demands a solution. So be it.

Be well.

Up next, Feb. 25: I’m not handy, but I’m working on it. I’m also way too susceptible to buying gadgets. It’s been a problem.