Happy New Year?

It’s been a long time since I’ve written a blog post. That’s because we haven’t traveled much. The last two and a half years we devoted ourselves to caring for our parents. My mother and father and Bill’s mom. It was more than a full-time job. Bill is retired and I had to stop working. Being far from home became a non-option. 

Back Row: Diane Ducey Murphy, Mike "Jerry" Ducey
Front Row: Cecille Ducey, Marguerite Murphy, Bill Murphy 

We are not the first to sacrifice everything to the care of their aging parents and we won’t be the last. The only thing that makes our story unique is the fact that it is ours. This is not about self-pity. It's just what it is. It is also, I hope, an homage to all who walked this path before us and those who will follow in our footsteps. Because they are not alone and their struggle is not understood well enough. The truth is, Bill and I feel lucky to have been able to be there for our parents, but it was not an easy thing. It never is. 

We managed every aspect of their lives. We hired, fired, and scheduled the aides and paid them, we paid the household bills, we took them to all their doctors appointments, we knew the name of and reason for every drug they took by heart, we knew every symptom they exhibited, we became experts on their insurance coverage, we spent uncountable hours in emergency rooms, hospital rooms, and nursing home rooms, and as many hours on the phone fighting tooth and nail to get them the care they deserved, but would never get without our intervention. 

Even when we managed to spend a few days upstate in the RV at our favorite campground in Saugerties, NY, we were on 24-hour call to handle things. From the smallest issue to the most dire. 

It was relentless and often overwhelming, but we wouldn’t have had it any other way. They were our parents. That’s what love is. As hard as it was, neither of us could have done anything else. Additionally, we were lucky enough to be able to keep all three at home in the last years if their lives. A true blessing. 

I’ll spare you the details of two and half years worth of ailments and close calls, and give you the Reader’s Digest version of the last year. 

My Dad was diagnosed with terminal leukemia in mid October of 2017. He passed on January 16, 2018 - on Bill’s mom’s birthday. He was 85. My mom was diagnosed with terminal colon cancer in early August of 2018. She passed on September 10, 2018. She was 82. On October 1st, my Dad’s birthday, my first without him, Bill’s mom had a bad fall breaking her femur at the knee. She was 99 years old. She passed on October 5, 2018. To say it was a difficult year is an understatement, but we were holding our own. Until the new year rolled around and it all finally hit me. 

At the stroke of midnight, January 1, 2019, Bill and I began the first year of our lives without our parents. I didn’t cry much when my Dad died, or when my Mom died eight months later, or when Bill’s mom died four weeks after that. I think because I was numb. 

We both held it together quite well through my Dad’s fist birthday without him, my Mom’s first birthday without her, Bill’s first birthday without his mom, and our first Thanksgiving and Christmas without all three. But on New Year’s Eve night, when the hour struck midnight, I cried a year’s worth of tears. 

It made no sense. I couldn’t wait for the year to end. Prior to New Year's Eve, I was all “Good riddance 2018!” and “Hello 2019!”  I didn't know it until the moment arrived, but turns out I couldn’t have been more wrong. Saying goodbye to the worst year of my life was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Because it also meant saying goodbye to the last year our parents lived. And it broke my heart into a million pieces. 

-Diane 

Mechanic Of My Dreams

Only one man will ever touch that which is most special and precious. His name is Mike (https://www.facebook.com/EMowerAndSon/). 

He never fails to get the job done. He’s like a man possessed. There’s nothing half-assed about him. He works it until it's right. Always. He has the magic touch. Nobody does it better. For 3 1/2 years now he’s been the RV mechanic of our dreams, and today he proved himself the best yet again.

On our last trip we hit a tree and damaged our front steps and skirt panel.
(see my blog post "You Never Forget Your First" https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=8572702142685285626#editor/target=post;postID=2715598037103485777;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=1;src=postname).

We thought we would have to replace both. Nope. Instead of having to replace them, he straightened both and welded the steps back together. Aside from a minor war wound on the panel and some caulking, we’re good to go.

The man is a miracle worker. Truly. And he’s one of nicest guys you’ll ever meet. In addition, he’s become a good friend. 

His shop is in Saugerties, NY just minutes from where we store the RV and our favorite campground. He even makes “house” calls. What a lucky day it was when we found him.

So, if you're in the area and need a repair, look him up. I guarantee, you won't be disappointed.

-Diane 

You Never Forget Your First

So, it finally happened. Last Sunday Bill and I finally lost our virginity. They say it’s a rite of passage and was bound to happen eventually. We’d come close a few times, but somehow always managed to avoid it. No matter what others tell you about their own first time, nothing prepares you for the emotion of that moment. Or how it changes you forever.

After almost an hour of trying to back the RV into a very difficult spot, we hit a tree. Shaved the bark right off that sucker. The front door steps were crushed and probably need to be replaced, as well as the now crumpled skirt panel to the left of the steps.

Perpertrator

Then, in our haste to maneuver the RV away from the tree, we failed to see the large rocky outcrop just in front of it and nearly toppled her. Good times. 

Luckily, the damage was either superficial or easily fixed and covered by insurance. We had the back door steps, so we could get in and out of the thing. None of the damage effected the RV’s functionality, so we were able to live in it for the week and didn’t have to cancel our plans. Phew! 

Victim

Honestly, it was like we’d never done this before, and I think I know why. We’d become over confident. The last half dozen times we’d done this everything went so smoothly. Too smoothly. We got too cocky. 

And the last thing you ever want to do, when towing a 38 foot, 13k pound fifth wheel, is to get too cocky. Painful lesson learned. 

On a side note, two days later a series of macrobursts hit the area. We’d gone upstate for a little R&R, and it was one adventure after another. We spent three hours under a tornado watch. In the Catskills. That never, I repeat never, happens in that area. Crazy stuff. 

The campground owner made all the guests evacuate their campers and shelter in the rec hall. We got torrential rains, winds of 70+ mph and large hail. The road to the interstate was closed due downed trees and power lines, and the electricity was out everywhere. 

But just south of us got the worst of it. Poughkeepsie, New Paltz, Kingston, and especially Newburgh, got hit hard. There were reports of at least three tornadoes touching down. Newburgh got it the worst, though, resulting in three deaths. 

We had to live a day on battery power only. That means no TV, fireplace, microwave, etc. But who cares. Surprisingly, there was no damage to the truck or RV and we’re okay, so...

What a wild ride. 

And in spite of it all, it turned out to be a lovely week.

-Diane

Back In Baby's Arms

Today was the start of our first RV trip in far too long. Due to necessity, its a short trip into the restorative woods of the Catskills, but after so much time and all that's happened in that time, it feels miraculous. There were times we thought it might never happen. Many things were the cause of our delay. They were unavoidable things, but now that we're back at it, it's hard to image being away for so long.

It all started last March (2016). We were finishing up a month long trip to New Orleans and then Pensacola Beach. Two days before we were scheduled to head home we got an early morning call that my Mom was sick and in the hospital. We packed up, unhooked, and hitched-up in record time, and made a mad dash for the nearest campground to Staten Island, NY - where I grew up and where my parents still live. A marathon drive and 48 hours later we landed at Liberty State Park Campground in Jersey City, NJ. 

Seriously, it's criminal that they are allowed to call that a campground. Hands down its the worst RV Park in the world. It was nothing more than a poorly maintained parking lot with hookups, in a dangerous neighborhood, in the middle of a construction zone, surrounded by high-rises. But it served its purpose being only a 20 minute drive to my parents. 

We stayed there two days, visited Mom, assessed the situation, returned the RV to her Upstate storage spot, and then returned to our home in Long Island. And the next 14 months were a non-stop cluster-puck, with one crises after another with seemingly no end in sight. 

Due to a series of UTI infections complicated by several C-diff infections, Mom was in and out of hospitals and nursing homes repeatedly between March 2016 and September 2016. All the while, my father's and my mother-in-law's health were also declining. As a result, Bill and I became the full-time managers of their health and the lives of all three, and remain so. 

After extensive testing, we learned Mom had a golf-ball sized, badly infected kidney stone. She had surgery to remove it on January 3, 2017. By this time we had aides in place for my parents. The same level of care we'd had in place for my mother-in-law for the past year. And by the the end of January 2017 things seemed to be calming down and were under control enough for us to book our planned March trip to Utah. 

And then, in a freak accident, on January 31st, I injured both my ankles. I know, right? You're asking yourself, "Both ankles? "How the hell did she do that? Me too! This is how...

My father had fallen in front of his house. He lay helpless in the street. As I rushed down the front steps of his house to help him, I slipped and fell. I landed very badly. I did not fall forward, as you would expect. Somehow, instead, I came crashing down feet-first, dislocating and breaking both the tibia and fibula in my left my ankle, and chipping the bone in and badly spraining my right ankle. 

Fortunately, the 84 year-old popped up unharmed like one of those blow-up punching clowns from my youth. The 54 year-old, not so much. I was taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital. I had surgery the next afternoon on my left ankle and spent 4 days in the hospital, and the next five months in rehab. 

And I'm still not fully recovered. As we speak, I can't walk without a cane and stairs are challenging, and I wonder if I'll ever be right again. But, I will not let this stop me from living my life to the fullest. 

And so I find myself finally, happily, in the bucolic woods of Upstate New York. Not only are we finally back where we belong, in the place that makes us happiest, but I'm writing again. As is apparent by this long past due blog post. They say home is where the heart is. Well, our hearts are transient. They live within the walls of this "vehicle" - as my Mom calls it. And we are delighted to let go and allow it to take us where ever it will...

-Diane 

Long Time No Blog

How do I explain why I've been missing in action for so long, when the events that kept me away have little to do with the reason for this blog - RVing?

Turns out, once I sat down to write this, it was easier than I thought. The truth is, everything has to do with our RVing, or our desire to be RVing, or the things that prevent us from RVing. That's because we are always dreaming about it and planning it. But you know what they say, "We plan. God laughs."

And so went this last year. We planned and God laughed. Over and over.

My mother got sick last March. We had to cut our last trip short and rush home to care for her. I'll spare you the gory details. Suffice it to say, every time we thought she was getting better, she wasn't. It became all consuming leaving little time or energy for anything else. She was in and out of hospitals and nursing homes with seemingly no solution and no good end in site. Until there was. Until that one doctor finally listened. Until someone who had the power to help did.

She had surgery in early January 2017 and is getting stronger every day. But just as she was finding her way back to her old self, allowing us to feel it was safe to consider hitting the road, some dumbass (that'd be me) slipped on the steps breaking her left ankle and spraining her right one. The broken ankle required surgery. That was seven weeks ago. I'm one week into my rehab and won't be up and walking for another month at least.

But we are still dreaming and planning. Seeing no need to take any chances, we crossed our fingers and toes, knocked on wood, lit a candle to St. Jude and St. Christopher, and moved our timeline up yet again. And when we do finally head out on our next adventure, of course, we will take you along for the ride. Assuming you're still out there. And if you are, my sincerest thanks for sticking around.

-Diane

Should I Stay Or Should I Go

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog. The last two and half months have been a blur of activity, and there just wasn’t any time. A few days before we were due to return home from our last trip we got a call that my Mom was sick. We packed up, broke down in record time, and made a mad two-day dash back to NY. It feels like I’m just now coming up for air. 

Nana (Bill's Mom)

Bill’s Mom is 97. My Dad is 83 and Mom is 80. All have health problems. Bill’s Mom lives at home, but has aides that take beautiful care of her. Until a few months ago, my parents were mostly still independent. Dad has mobility issues, but he can get around on his own. Mom, in spite of her apparent memory issues, had few limitations. All that has changed. After ten days in the hospital and seven weeks in a nursing home, she came home two weeks ago. She is making slow progress, but needs assistance with everything. As a result, we have 12 hours per day of aide care in place. I don’t expect her to make a full recovery and know that their lives as they knew it is over. That means mine, as I knew it, is also. 

We haven’t been doing this long, but the few times we’ve hit the road for any considerable length of time, the thought that something like this could happen was always in the back of our minds. Now it’s more than just a fear. It’s a reality. So what now? How do we balance our desire to travel with the needs of our aging parents? More importantly, how do we do it without feeling guilty? 

Maybe we don’t. Maybe we just don’t go. Maybe we just can’t. Then again, maybe we have to anyhow. Maybe it would be a mistake to put our dreams on hold. After all, life is so short. But that takes me back to how. How do we find a way to do both? Be there for our parents and fulfill our RV dreams. 

Mom and Dad

My parents would be the first to say, “Go!” When Mom got sick they insisted that we not come home early. But really, there was no chance that was going to happen. There was no way we could have stayed and enjoyed ourselves. So, now that things are the way they are, how do we go in the future and enjoy ourselves? 

We’re thinking of Southern Utah next May. Five weeks away from home. If we go, and something happens, will we be able to forgive ourselves? But, if we don’t go, will we be able to forgive ourselves? Round and round it goes...

-Diane

Food Karma

We’d visited the historical sights. We’d admired the architecture. We’d seen the devastation in the ninth ward. We toured the unique graveyards. We’d explored the narrow and charming streets of the French Quarter. We’d listened to Jazz on a steamboat, in the clubs and on the street – even lucked upon a Jazz wedding as it passed by. We drank Dark N’ Stormies, Hurricanes and fell in love with Abita Amber, the local brew. New Orleans has so much to offer and we took it all in with relish.

However, if we had to choose a favorite thing, which is pretty much like choosing a favorite child, it would be the food. No matter how inexpensive or upscale, we never had a bad meal. We loved it all. And me, I loved it just a wee bit more. You see, there is this thing that happens to me with freakish regularity. I never get my meal as I order it. Not ever. No matter how simple or basic, it comes out of the kitchen with something amiss. Even when ordered from the menu without changes. Ask Bill. He’ll tell you. It’s simply bizarre. I think it might be some bad karma from a past life coming back to bite me. But in New Orleans my food curse was finally broken.

 The Ruby Slipper’s eggs came with a buttermilk biscuit the size of my head, stone ground grits and fried green tomatoes. It was the south on plate. Joey K’s red rice and beans was damned close to the homemade version a long ago boyfriend, Adam from Mobile, once made me – his Momma’s recipe. The Joint’s BBQ brisket melted in my mouth. NOLA Po’ Boys’ crawfish po’ boy was heaven on a cloud of bread. Court of the Two Sisters’ filet mignon was cooked to perfection and possibly the best I’ve ever had. The Mississippi River Bottom’s fried catfish platter was light and crisp and a delight on the tongue. And every delectable morsel came to the table just the way I asked for it. For me, that was priceless and elevated my experience from satisfying and enjoyable to rapturous pleasure.

It remains to be seen if this curse is truly broken, if this trend will continue beyond the Big Easy, but either way, the Crescent City will always hold a special place in my culinary heart.

-Diane