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Diabetes – from a Loved-one’s Point of View

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I find it sad when I see so many overweight people in North America. My concern isn’t because of the way they look, but because they seem to be oblivious to the health risks, even though they are well publicized.

A young woman who was a little overweight as a child, but slimmed down as a young adult has, since having a family it seems, given up the struggle to maintain a healthy weight. She’s been diagnosed with Diabetes.

A senior man who was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes and has other health issues that can be related to poor diet, finds it amusing to not only always eat whatever dessert is available to him, but to eat whatever his family or friends choose not to eat. His weight is rapidly rising and I warn him that if his Type 2 becomes Type 1, neither he nor his wife will be laughing anymore.

If these two people, and all of the thousands more that are putting themselves at risk, aren’t concerned about their own well-being, perhaps a look at how their poor health could impact their loved ones who will ultimately become their caregivers, might give them pause to reconsider. Having been such a caregiver, I can shed some light from this perspective.

“Do you wanna fight?” he asked as he smacked his fist into the palm of his hand.

He had a strange smirk on his face. I didn’t recognize him.

It was early in the morning and he had spent the night with me in my apartment. At first I laughed, thinking he was just fooling around, but when I spoke to him he didn’t respond. His eyes looked glazed. My heart leaped. Is this what he’d meant when he said, “if I start acting strange, give me some of these”, as he placed an orange package beside the bed?

“Leo, what are you doing? You’re scaring me. Do you need some of these?” I asked, offering him the square white candies from the package. He didn’t reply. I put one into his mouth and he chewed, still staring at me with that lopsided grin. Another one. Still he wasn’t responding. His legs started to twitch, very slightly at first. Then his arms and his torso began to shudder. His hands were clenched; his tongue moved from corner to corner of his mouth. His whole body began convulsing uncontrollably. Now I was really scared. I grabbed the phone and dialed 911.

“Ambulance please,” I replied to the query from the other end of the line.

Many questions were asked, for which I had no answers – date of birth, medications? All that I knew was that he was diabetic, that he was 43 years old, and we had only recently begun our relationship. I had a lot to learn. Until I met Leo, like many people, I had very little understanding of how devastating diabetes can be.

Over the next five years I experienced many such episodes, many far scarier than that one. I learned how to read the signs; I learned how to administer liquid sugar (Glucogone) by syringe when he’d taken too much insulin to counteract consuming too much sugar, and I was awakened early in the morning by his convulsing because his sugars had dropped too low. I became all too familiar with 911 procedures. I spent many hours waiting in the hospital Emergency Room until Leo was released. Besides the emotional trauma of it all, I often missed time at work. Since I was an hourly paid worker, that cost me money that I couldn’t afford to lose.

One time that remains most vivid in my memory is the morning when I awoke to a loud crash, in the house we were sharing with my daughter and her husband. Leo was gone from the bedroom. I ran to the kitchen to find his thrashing body face-down in front of the refrigerator, his wheelchair behind him holding the door open. I ran for the Glucogone while I screamed for my daughter for help. She and her husband ran up from their lower floor suite and I asked them to call 911 while, with shaking hands, I used the syringe to draw the liquid from one tiny bottle and insert it into the other bottle of powder, mixing them together slowly so as to not create air bubbles, and drawing the solution out again and jabbing the needle into Leo’s flesh. By the time the ambulance arrived the convulsions had stopped, but Leo wasn’t coming out of his daze. His glasses were broken and his face cut from the impact of his fall. I watched the paramedics load him into the ambulance, and took a moment to de-stress before throwing on some clothes to follow them to the hospital.

Leo was diagnosed with Type I (insulin-dependent) diabetes at the age of seven and during the next 38 years the disease would continually challenge him. Watching his diet and giving himself insulin shots was difficult for a young boy, and as a teenager he rebelled against the restrictions his illness imposed on him. His sugars skyrocketed at times. At the age of 21 his pituitary gland was removed to save his eyesight, but that meant he had to take more medication to make up for what his pituitary would have produced. By the time I met him he’d just been discharged from the hospital after having all of his toes and a portion of both feet amputated, the result of infection. He was a fighter though, and had been fitted for prostheses so he could continue to do the things he loved, like offering a helping hand to other people, and driving his car, and riding his motorcycle. However he was never able to take on another full-time job because his health was too unstable.

Each time Leo would go to the doctor for a check-up, he’d come back with another medication for a new health problem. In the spring of 2002 he told me that his doctor had put him on medication because his cholesterol was “a little high” (I learned later that he hadn’t quite been honest). Like many of his meds, it made him ill. I suggested he try changing his diet. Instead, he stopped taking the medication and increased his ice cream intake. I could see that he was growing weary of the fight to survive.

Returning from work one afternoon not long after that, I found him unconscious, the telephone and his orange package of candies beside him on the bed. I picked up the phone and made my last call to 911. The coroner confirmed that, as happens with many diabetics, Leo’s heart had given up. He was one month short of his 48th birthday.

To this day, the sound of an ambulance gives me chills, and an innocent twitch in the bed can wake me from a deep sleep.

It’s serious stuff, but it can be controlled. Yes, you might have to give up some of your favourite foods, and force yourself to take that daily walk, but what’s more important in life – the short lived pleasure of guilty treats, or sharing a longer, healthier life with loved ones? It’s your call.

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Winding down

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Wednesday turned out to be a rather cloudy day. We had noticed the motor home giving an occasional hiccup a couple of times on Tuesday, but letting it rest and cool down seemed to do the trick. However, soon after we started out on Wednesday it began to do it again, so when we happened upon a transmission repair shop during our drive through Spokane, Washington, we thought it best to have it checked out. We spent the next six hours having our lunch and catching up on some reading, while we waited for the bad news. Just before the shop was about to close at five o’clock we were told that they could find nothing seriously wrong with the transmission, but they did a complete service on it, flushing out all the fluids and replacing them. This was something that was probably long overdue. We braced ourselves for the expected big bill. They’d worked on it for five hours (they took a lunch break) after all. The light shone on us once more; we were charged only for the servicing, a flat rate of $97.00!
Oh, remember the challenges we met at Best Buys back in Salt Lake City when we purchased a Verizon internet stick for the computer? We had to use an American address (thanks, Sis) to register it, but were told that after the first billing we could go online and change the address to our own. Well, Jim went online and tried to pay the first bill but because the US postal code had to be used as identification on the Verizon website, and our Canadian postal code had to be used with our Canadian credit card to pay the bill, he wasn’t able to pay it! When we left the transmission shop, we had to go in search of a Verizon store. Jim was able to pay the bill, but when he asked them to change the address on the account, he was informed that a Canadian address can’t be used. The stick should never have been sold to us if we didn’t have a US address. Best Buys didn’t tell us that. So now we have to figure out how we’ll get future bills and pay them!
We finally got back on the road at about six o’clock. Jim was well rested and figured he could keep driving until we got to Kaslo. It was dark and a little foggy when we reached the mountains, but it was too late to stop then, so we kept on trucking, very slowly. It was after eleven when we pulled into the driveway at the home of my daughter, in Kaslo.
I’ve spent the last two days taking care of business like filling a prescription that had run out, finally accessing my bank account (if you have a President’s Choice bank account, it’s pretty much impossible to access it in the US), doing laundry and, of course visiting with Sarah, Kendrick and my grandson, Callum. Their lives are busy as usual, but tomorrow we all hope to take in the Garlic Festival in New Denver. It will be our last day here. Monday we’ll be back in the US and heading for home in earnest. Sigh. Still so many more people and places we would have liked to visit.

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Drifting along with the tumbleweed

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RV Park

Tuesday, Day 35

I didn’t think I’d have much to write about tonight, since today was a dull, rainy day and we spent all of it driving. The only interesting place we stopped was at large produce and chocolate market somewhere along Hwy 84 or Hwy 385. They’ve all just melted together by now. We did buy some nice fruit and a couple of ears of corn for supper. Once we’d crossed into Washington State the terrain became very flat and monotonous. Earlier in the day there had been RV Parks about every five miles along the road. At six o’clock when we decided it was about time to camp for the night, none could be found. The few small towns that we passed seemed to have only a hotel or two. By the time we saw a sign for Lind that indicated there were “services” we were in need of gas, so we drove the two miles into town. That’s when the trip became more interesting!

A billboard on the edge of town told of its claim to fame: The Lion’s Club Combine Demolition Derby! A field across the street was full of smashed up combines. There was a faded sign for a motel a little further on, but the building next to it had peeling paint and old rusty cars parked out front. We were feeling rather sceptical of finding even gas. A place to park for the night was probably out of the question. But, a sign listing five churches in the town and a Medical Clinic gave us new hope. At the first cross roads we saw a gas station. It was closed. At the next was another that was open 24 hrs. When we drove up to the pumps no one was around. While Jim was trying to figure out the price and procedure, an SUV pulled up and the driver rolled down his window.

“Have you bought gas here before?” he asked.

“No,” said Jim.

“There’s a better place that’s cheaper. Just go to this corner and up three blocks.”

Off we went in search of it. Nearly empty lots everywhere contained rusted out farm machinery or automobiles, and gas tanks. We found a place that had some pumps, but again no one was around, so we went back to the corner. Finding nothing else, we turned around to go back and investigate it further. As we made the turn, a tall, frail woman in jeans and a plaid shirt appeared on the lawn of the corner house. There was something strange about her face. She was pointing and talking to us. When we stopped and I opened the window we saw that she had an oxygen tube in her nose and 40 feet of hose was dragging behind her!

“Are you looking for gas?” she asked. “Just go to the end of the street and around the corner.”

We thanked her and returned to the place we’d just been, shaking our heads in amazement. It was a derelict town, but the residents were certainly friendly.

We got some gas and headed back towards the highway. The woman was in her window and waved as we drove past. An old man and a younger woman stood outside the tavern smoking cigarettes. They waved to us too.

By now it was nearly 7:30 and we still hadn’t found a place to stop to eat and sleep. A few more miles up the road we saw a sign for a restaurant, and below it another sign said “RV Park”. We saw two other motor homes beside the restaurant. Jim went in to inquire about overnight parking.

When he returned he said, “That’s the park, there in front of us. It has 30 amp and water and it’s only $15, and we can have any site we want.”

I laughed, looking at the bits of pavement that wound through clumps of tumbleweed and scruffy shrubs. A closer look revealed the electrical posts and water taps half hidden in the long grass. This was indeed the RV Park and we were the only ones there.

We didn’t care. We had a place to eat and sleep. That’s all we needed. A while later one of the other motor homes pulled in beside us, so now we’re not alone.

Tomorrow we should be in Kaslo, if all goes well.

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A Day of Rest

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Sunday, Day 33

Seems like I lost track of the days once again! Jim just informed me that this is day thirty-three!  It’s hard to believe that we’ve been gone so long, but on the other hand, we’ve seen and done so much it seems impossible that it’s only been thirty-three days!

Today we took a break from travelling.  Given the fact that this is a long weekend, we felt maybe it would be a good idea to remain where we are in case we couldn’t find another campsite for tonight. I forgot to mention in my last post that we are at the Driftwood RV Park, in Port of Brookings Harbor, Oregon. It just happens that this weekend, Labor Day Weekend, is the Annual Slam’n Salmon Ocean Derby here. There were craft vendors and food vendors set up along the boardwalk, and lots of boats in the harbour. We strolled through the crowds this morning and enjoyed a bowl of clam chowder at one of the restaurants. I found some time to catch up on the blogging before we got out the bicycles and rode back to the harbour for the Salmon BBQ and the Derby awards.  The largest salmon catch of the weekend was 36 lbs – wouldn’t that be fun to reel in!

The barbecued salmon was delicious and the corn that accompanied it was sweet and juicy.  At the end of the day, trays of left-over salmon were being offered for sale, all marinated and cooked. What a nice addition that would be to our now nearly empty freezer, but we didn’t think we’d have enough room. A woman overheard us asking if we could buy half a tray, and she offered to share one with us. We heard her whole life story before the negotiation was completed, but she even delivered our share to the motor home, since we had no way of carrying it on the bicycles! What a friendly town.

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Two Days in San Francisco

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Day 28!

There’s so much to note in San Francisco that I could write pages.  I’ll try to stick to the highlights for now.

The campground turned out to be alright. We weren’t bothered by our neighbours, and we spent very little time there anyway. The bike wasn’t working well when we arrived and Jim thought he could get it going in the morning.  He discovered that the problem was bigger than he could tackle and there wasn’t anyone nearby who could work on it. So we got some transportation information from the office and figured out that a twenty minute walk to the ferry and a thirty to forty-five minute ferry ride would get us into San Francisco. The ferry cost was only $8.10 return for each of us. Once we got there, $26.00 for the two of us got us all-day passes on any of the buses, street cars or cable cars. Once we saw the hills, the traffic and the lack of parking, we knew that we were probably better off than taking the bike.

We caught the 10:45 am ferry each morning and explored the city until time to catch the 8:15 back each night. We rode the cable car, often times having to stand on the side and hold on, just like in the movies. With map in hand, we hopped on and off and walked several blocks to find what we were looking for. We were awed by the steep hills, and the beautiful old homes that were decorated with intricate ginger bread trim. We watched cars manoeuvre down Lombard Street, the purportedly “crookedest street in the world.” I enjoyed one of my favourite past-times, people watching. In the financial district they were dressed to the nines and any bits of conversations I heard while sitting on a bench or in a cafe involved job hunting or work. Then, in the neighbourhoods closer to the missions, we had to duck around stumbling drunks or dirty men sitting on the sidewalk holding signs that were quite honest, “weed or beer”, often with a faithful dog beside them.

We were both impressed with the cleanliness of the city and I was especially impressed by the markets and the abundance of local, naturally grown fruits and vegetables at reasonable prices. We bought two bunches of grapes and two plums for less than $2.00 and they were the sweetest we’ve ever tasted. I was saddened that I couldn’t buy more, but the day was too hot to carry such yummies around in a backpack all day.

It was all very exciting, but the thing that excited Jim the most happened on the second day. His goal had been to find the house where he’d stayed with his great uncle Peter for ten weeks back in 1961. We not only found it, but were blessed with the appearance of its recent new owner.  She and her husband were in the process of restoring this magnificent old home that, we’d discovered, had originally been built by members of the Rothschild family. When we explained why we were standing outside the gate taking pictures, she invited us inside for a tour! Wow!  Seeing it made Jim’s day.

From there we toured the Delores Mission and the Cable Car Museum before enjoying a scrumptious seafood dinner at Fishermen’s Warf, a great end to our stay in San Francisco. Of course there is so much more that we would like to have seen.

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A Long, Hot Drive

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Tuesday, Day 21

We arrived in Reno at about 5:30 pm, after a long, hot, boring drive.  At first there were mountains around us and the drive wasn’t too bad, but the sun was getting hot. We stopped in Carlin to make lunch.  In a brochure that I’d picked up, Carlin was written up as a good place to visit.  Its main claim to fame is that it’s half way to Reno from the border. All that we saw were two truck stops, both with convenience stores and casinos, a post office, another bar/grill/casino and a boarded up motel, all at one corner.

Once we left Carlin, the topography became very flat. We thought the salt flats were boring, but this was far worse. We could see mountains in the distance but it took four hours to reach them. The sun, by that time, was shining very hot through the window. Both the motor home and I were suffering so we had to stop for a break so we could all cool down.

When we finally pulled off the highway in Reno, with no plans yet as to where we’d stay, our faithful motor home once again protested. She stalled and sputtered and we had to park on the side of the street. I couldn’t blame her.  The inside thermometer read 104 degrees Fahrenheit! While we let her cool down we went into the motel that we just happened to be parked beside, and picked up a map so we could locate a favourable RV Park. We called the Grand Sierra Resort RV Park and booked a spot.  However, the motor home still wasn’t ready to move on, so I made dinner. When we finished Jim did get her going, with a little protest, and we found our home for the next few nights. It is a grand hotel and casino that also has an RV Park. Because we are provided with all the amenities of the hotel guests, such as access to the pool and fitness centre at no charge, we expected the fees to be much higher than previous parks, but it was actually less!

Once we got everything hooked up, we turned on the a/c and took a walk over to the casino while it did its job. We joined the “gamblers club” and took our free $5.00 credits to the slots.  In no time at all, it was gone save for Jim’s last six cents. We now each have a six cent credit souvenir.

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Made it to Nevada, Just

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Monday, Day 20

It was a slow start to the day. Jim had four orders to process before we could leave and problems with internet connections and the printer caused further delays. We finally got away around 11:30 but we had to drop an order off at the post office. From there we went to Harbour Freight, the store we’d tried to find on Sunday. It’s a real “man’s store”, similar to Princess Auto back home. By the time we got out of there it was lunch time so I made sandwiches. At 1:30 we actually left Salt Lake City. We headed west, but there was one more stop to be made – Bingham Copper Mine, an hour west of Salt Lake City. It’s an amazing operation, existing for 110 years and has taken a huge chunk out of the mountain. But, the company does have recovery plans and uses “environmentally friendly” practices and strict safety rules. It’s a major contributor to the state of Utah. It was difficult to get Jim away from there. At the gift shop he bought me a sparkling copper and silver necklace. At 3:30 we began our slow descent down the steep slopes to the main road and onto the highway. We kept driving then, stopping only once to take pictures of Salt Lake. The road through the salt flats seemed to go on forever, straight as an arrow. We reached the Nevada border at 7:15 pm. By 8:00 we were installed in the KOA campground in West Wendover. Out of our window we could see two of the five casinos that are in this small city. We walked to The Rainbow Casino to get some dinner. I was too hungry and tired to start cooking at that time of night. Besides our choices are getting limited. It’s time to stock up again. We thought we’d try the buffet, but when we were told that it was closing in fourteen minutes and it would still cost us $17.50 each, we passed. We found a romantic restaurant at the other end of the casino where we enjoyed a delicious salad, prime rib that was 1 ½” thick and cooked to perfection, baked potato and homemade bread, all for $10.00 each and we have the leftovers for another meal.
On the way out we stopped at two of the slot machines and each put in one dollar. We thought we could have a bit of fun, but within a very few minutes we were down to our last twenty cents each. Although they were penny slots, the minimum bet was 20 credits. Jim spun and lost his. I spun and won six credits, not enough to spin again! I kept my six cent ticket for a souvenir.

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The Sun Can’t Shine Everyday

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The wind has calmed down for the moment, but we’re staying indoors. A dark cloud seems to be circling the campground, although there’s been very little rain.

The day started out sunny and hot. We got up early and caught the shuttle bus to the performance of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. What a performance! The magnificently perfect blend of voices and orchestra caused the hairs to stand up on our arms. When we left the huge auditorium, which seats 2100 people (there were about 5000 there today), we found a guide to give us the tour of the building. It was all very interesting and we now have more insight into the Mormon faith. The tour guides are all volunteers. The shuttle buses are provided free-of-charge by the Church. By the time we’d left there we’d just missed one shuttle bus back to the camp, so we found a restaurant for some lunch while we waited for the next one.

Back at the campground, Jim checked the directions to a store similar to Canadian Tire that he wanted to visit, and then we got on the bike and went in search of it. It looked simple to find, but somehow we took a wrong turn and were heading for the airport. The wind was beginning to rise; the sky was getting black. As we found our way out of the airport compound the rain began to pelt us. It wasn’t a lot of rain; we didn’t get wet. But the wind made it feel like hundreds of needles pounding our skin, and Jim could barely hold the bike up as it drifted across the lanes! Thank goodness we soon rode out of it as we headed back into the city. We decided that it was better to get back to the RV. The cloud was heading our way. We weren’t back long before the high winds and rain reached us in the park. While we sat at the window taking pictures of the trees swaying and blowing outside our window, a warning came on the TV telling us of extremely high winds in the area and expected to hit the city. It recommended that everyone get themselves into a solid building, away from windows. Although the initial wind seemed to have passed, we heeded the warning and walked to the KOA office/store. Along the way we saw many tree branches on the ground. Fortunately they’d fallen into empty sites. We waited in the store, chatting with a fellow camper, until the staff informed us that the warning had been lifted. The winds continue to come and go.

Friday was, figuratively, another day that the sun didn’t shine, or at least not quite as brightly. Jim spent the whole day repairing the bicycle tire and the motorcycle. Those processes included several trips on the one functioning bicycle to a local Firestone and an Auto Supply Store. While he worked on those, I caught up on laundry, and computer work. By supper time Jim figured the only remaining item that he needed to get the bike going was a new battery. So after a homemade pasta dinner, we rode together back to the Auto Supply Store. When we got back it was still very hot and humid. A dip in the pool and a soak in the hot tub, under the stars, was a nice way to end the day.

Saturday we had the motorcycle back on the road. We went back to Temple Square, which is a two block area of the downtown that houses the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and the many other beautiful buildings associated with it. We saw a sign for the Family Search Centre and went inside hoping to do a bit of our own family research. When a volunteer told us we’d come in one of the back doors, and she led us to the front lobby, once again our breath was taken away! She told us that this magnificent place had once been a grand hotel, but was about to be torn down when the Church bought it and restored it to house some of their services. Our jaws dropped. The lobby is larger than our whole house. It has green and tan coloured marble columns that are three stories high. The floors and stairs are marble; the wood work is intricately carved around the balconies that overlook the lobby from all three floors. There are a few chapels in the building. It’s a popular place for weddings. We saw three being photographed in various areas of the building and the gardens. We did get to the Family Research Centre to do a little research, with the help of several missionaries who offered their help as well as tidbits about the religious beliefs that have led them to compile these records. We politely declined the offer of help with our spiritual guidance.

There is so much interesting history and information at Temple Square that one would have to stay another week to take it all in, but we decided we’d had enough for one day. We walked down to the Gateway Mall. The entrance to it is through the now unused but maintained historical Union Station, which brought memories back to Jim since he’d been through it many years ago when he worked for CPR at Union Station in Toronto. Outside we watched some pogo stick stunts and children of all ages splashing through the dancing water fountains that sprung up from the sidewalk. We had lunch/dinner at the Sky Box Sports Bar & Grill before heading back to the bike and “home”. Once again we ended the night at the pool and hot tub. We could get used to that! I think we’ll skip it tonight though. As I publish this, the storm seems to have passed and the air is much cooler. Might be a good movie night.

Tomorrow we’ll leave for Nevada.

Unknown's avatar

Plans Derailed Again!

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Day 13 – Tues.

We didn’t travel far today. We arrived in Cody at ten this morning, where we stopped for gas. We had intended to keep on going to Yellowstone, but we saw the Buffalo Bill Historic Museum and it looked pretty interesting. Bronze statues are everywhere in Wyoming it seems, and the path into the museum is no exception. I snapped pictures of conversing cowboys on horseback, a wolf howling at the moon and Buffalo Bill himself. We decided not to pay the $15 each to go into the museum, but looked around the gift shop. We were amused at the notice going into the building that listed the things that would have to be checked at the museum entrance. The list included firearms. You know you’re in redneck country when …

From the museum we went across the road to the Visitors’ Centre and learned of all the things that could be seen in the town, including a rodeo at night. I’d never seen a rodeo and thought I’d like to. We decided to stay. We found a cheap campground at the edge of town, the Gateway Motel and RV Park. It was full hook-up and that’s about it, but that’s all we needed. We unloaded the bike and went to the Walmart, almost next door, to pick up a few odds and ends that we’d needed, and after depositing them back at the RV, we rode downtown to see the sights.

We went to the Irma Hotel for Iced Tea. The Irma was Buffalo Bill’s Hotel back in the day. It still has much of the original decor and atmosphere, but commercialization has made it disappointing. We wandered through a few shops. I saw lots of beautiful clothing but too expensive for my budget. We purchased tickets for dinner and a “cowboy show” at the Cody Cattle Company, and for the rodeo. We toured the Old West Miniature Village and Museum. By then the temperature had reached 98 degrees Fahrenheit according to one sign, 94 by another. Whichever, it was HOT! Time for a DQ treat.

When we got back on the bike it was sputtering and backfiring, so we left it at the campground and walked the half mile from there to our evening venues. The “chuck wagon” buffet consisted of Caesar salad, beans, beef, chicken, baked potatoes, coleslaw, corn bread, applesauce and brownies for dessert. I thought it was good; Jim wasn’t impressed. He was, however, very impressed with the music. It was good old cowboy music, performed by the Martin Family. It included singing, yodeling, and some amazing guitar and mandolin picking by Jim & Jeanne’s son, Ryan Martin. It was a great hour of entertainment.

From there we walked a little further up the road to the Cody Night Rodeo. I enjoyed watching the bucking horse riding competition, until Jim told me how they got the horses to buck (if you don’t know, don’t ask). The calf roping competition had me silently cheering for the calf. I did enjoy watching the barrel races. A few competitors were very, very young, but managed their horses well. The clowns added some comic relief. So now I’ve seen a rodeo. I don’t think I’ll need to see another.

Tomorrow we WILL get to Yellowstone! Stay tuned.

Addendum:

Jim and Jeanne Martin of the Rockin M Wranglers have performed together for audiences all around the US for over 18 years. Their son Ryan Martin has joined them for their current seven-days-a-week gig at The Cody Cattle Company.

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Moments That Take our Breath Away

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Day 12 – Monday
We did sit outside on the KOA deck and watched Close Encounters. Once the sun went down the temperature dropped by about thirty degrees, I think. By the time the movie was over I was shivering uncontrollably. We were both cold enough to turn on the furnace before getting into bed!

Today was sunny and warm again, without being too hot. We left Devil’s Tower with the intentions of heading southwest, towards San Francisco. But after looking at the map and seeing that it would be only about 100 kilometres longer to go northwest to Yellowstone first, we both agreed that it would be a shame to miss it when we were that close, so we changed our route.

We took I-90 to Gillette and on to Buffalo. We thought we might reach Cody tonight, close to Yellowstone, but somewhere between Gillette and Buffalo the transmission made a few hiccups, which concerned Jim. To be safe, we stopped in Buffalo to have it checked. The young fellow checked the fluid and said it was good, but the transmission probably needed servicing, maybe even a flush. He could do the general service for about $150 (but might not get to it today). He suggested we go to Sheridan to a transmission specialist. Because the hills were already starting to slow us down, we’d planned to take the more southerly route to Cody, the one with the lowest grade climb. Going through Sheridan was just the opposite. We debated what to do and drove past the exit to Sheridan. It turned out to be the right choice. We had no more issues with the transmission even during the climb through the high hills of Wyoming. Perhaps it just needed a cool down. We did have to take the hills very slowly though as our motor home isn’t a powerful one. As a result, we’ve stopped for the night in Grey Bull, an hour or so short of Cody. Soon after we were set up in our site, another motor home pulling a big bike trailer parked next to us. Jim got talking to them and learned that they had taken the more northerly route, through Sheridan. The driver said, “I’ll never do that again! I overheated my engine a couple of times!” This confirmed the wisdom of our decision.

Despite the slow drive, the hills were breathtaking; blue/grey and pink rock, high peaks, deep canyons. I thought of the sign that Jim’s daughter had given us and wished I’d brought it with us for the RV: “Life isn’t about the number of breaths we take, but the moments that take our breath away.” We are certainly experiencing many of those moments on this trip. We are truly blessed.