We’re still here in Jolly Rogers RV Resort in the Florida Keys. Can't say I'm sad about it. The weather is absolutely perfect with the highs reaching right around 80 every day, but never dipping below 70 degrees at night. I can live with this kind of stability in my life. There were several new circumstances that happened in the last week for our family that we had to navigate through.
First, and perhaps most notably, we bought professional-grade snorkel gear! We had a certified snorkel instructor (her name was Randy, too! She spells it wrong, but what are the odds?!) walk us through a
proper fit for our masks and fins. Then she hooked us up with the mask cleaner and defogger serums as well. Jason and I have taken the boys on a snorkeling tour before while we were on vacation a few years ago. It was a COMPLETE disaster. The tour was out on the ocean just outside of Cabo. Ryan got into the water, then quickly got right back on the boat because he was too scared with the swells of the ocean pushing him around. Barrett saw his big brother was terrified, so he didn’t even get into the water. But then there was our daredevil, Cord. He jumped right out into that ocean, hooked his arms around Jason’s neck, and held on for the ride. He was our trooper, but even though he was in the water, he didn’t use the snorkel mask properly either. Cord didn’t like, or couldn’t figure out, how to breathe through the mask, so bagged it altogether and merely floated on top of Jason. After that experience, Jason and I knew that the boys should have some practice with the new gear before we set out for the ocean again. Fortunately, this RV park has a glorious saltwater swimming pool that Jason took the boys to get some practice in. After the boys’ confidence in wearing their masks was solid, Jason planned a beach trip just down the road to Sombrero beach where we could test the gear in oceanic waters. It is no wonder why Sombrero Beach is a ‘must-do’ on so many of the tourist and vacation lists for this area of Florida. The sands are wonderfully soft, and the water’s edge is clean and calm. Jason packed us a nice lunch with snacks and drinks, so we were able to stay at the beach as long as we’d like. It
was a perfect beach day. The temperature hit 81 degrees, there was no wind, and since we went on a weekday, the crowd was small. The five of us put our gear on and ventured out into the water. Unfortunately, the further out you swam, the cloudier the water became. Jason led us to a couple different locations while we strained our eyes hoping to see through the murk and catch a glimpse of some wildlife. We just couldn’t quite find a great spot to see lots of fish and/or coral to keep the boys interested. The water was chilly, and the boys were getting tired – swimming with fins is exhausting! So, we started to head back to the beach. The man that was fishing on the rock jetty off the beach had left, so we were able to cut a shorter route back to our beach chairs through the water. I guess that’s why that guy was fishing there – because there were TONS of fish and coral to be seen around those rocks! I’m so glad we were able to cross over that small section of coral reef. Otherwise, I don’t know if Jason and I could have convinced these tired, cold boys to go out snorkeling on that beach again.
After taking in all the fish and coral, we ate our lunch, reapplied sunscreen, and played on the shore for a while. Jason and I sat talking while the boys played imaginary games involving swords, water-bending, power-ups, and an inconceivable amount of calling for soldier reinforcements. We stayed at the beach for over half the day, and I kept reminding myself to remember these small moments and memories. To lock them away in the “You’re Doing Something Right” file in my brain
to refer back to on the days when “What Have We Done?” is the running theme. Even the boys were in awe of how perfect the beach trip was. Jason was tossing the football around with the boys in the water as I waded at the shore looking for shells. Barrett stood back a bit and said, “Just look out at that water. It’s just so beautiful, Mom. I can’t believe it.” Same, kiddo. Same.
Another first for us this past week was being able to give out our mailing address! Seems mundane and simple, but for us, it’s the first time we’ve been in one place long enough to offer up a mailing address to our friends or family. Ironically, the mail system is exactly why we are still here and not moving up north, closer to Ft. Lauderdale where more sailboats are.
On our drive down here to Marathon on Sunday, Nov. 28, Jason and I pulled the trigger and finally
ordered another stand-up paddle board. This paddle board tops the “Best Buys” lists and has the capacity to hold multiple family members at one time without becoming submerged by the weight. We specifically ordered this company’s board at this particular time because we were going to be in Marathon for a full EIGHT days, and this company toted a shipping time of 1-3 days from order date. Clearly, by us ordering it on Nov 28th, it would arrive here by our departure date of Dec 5th, right? Apparently not. Not even close. It is now nine days after I ordered, and seven days after I received notice that the board shipped, and STILL. NO. BOARD. Thankfully, this RV park is a wonderful place to be “stuck” and the front office happily extended our stay another week without us having to even move campsites. So, because of unkept promises on shipping, we were able to let Jason’s family know what our address is so they can mail a care package to our boys (and Jason’s present for his birthday that is coming up!) that they’ve been wanting to send. Our boys have been sending out postcards to various family members as we travel, but we haven’t been able to provide a mailing address so they could get a response from anyone. It was really nice to see their faces light up when they received a package from home just for them.
We have now booked our stays through the next three weeks and can provide mailing addresses for family and friends for the holiday season. With knowing where we’ll be, Jason has also been able to have various parts shipped for the RV. Because, wouldn’t you know it, this RV is not a well-oiled machine that runs effortlessly like a gazelle through the meadow. Wanda the Winnebago needs time and attention – mostly in the form of Jason. I can vacuum and wash dishes with the best of them, but
it’s Jason that is keeping this old gal’s systems working. And right now, the hot water system ain’t workin’. Jason has trial and error’ed his way through a few ideas and now knows what Wanda really needs – and that’s new parts. Here we are, relying on the unreliable mailing system again. Since there are free, unlimited hot showers here, we aren’t desperate for hot water in the RV, and now that we know where we’ll be for the next three weeks, Jason was able to order parts and provide a specific delivery date to ensure it arrives at the right spot. We’ve never had this much certainty in our lives since we started our expeditions almost five months ago. We usually only book a week at a time. When the week is almost up, then Jason and I talk about where we want to be the next week in relation to looking at boats, and Jason finds us the next spot. Now we have three full weeks ahead of us reserved and paid for. Jason made the comment that now that we have so much time already booked, I’ll bet we’ll get a lead on a boat that will have us cancel or adjust all these well-made plans. I don’t know if I hope for that to happen or not. Win-win, I suppose.
One more ‘first’ we experienced last week was having to find professional medical care. We have travelled over 4,000 miles away from our family’s healthcare provider and all the heath records that go with it. Before we left Hermiston, Oregon, our doctor gave us his home and personal cell phone numbers. He said that he would happily answer any questions or health concerns we had as the arose along our journey. If we had video conferencing, then he could even get eyes on us and prescribe or diagnose most conditions we would have. At that time, it was reassuring to know how easy it would be to get our boys medical care, if it were needed, by our home doctor that knew us so well already. But when reality hit all the way down here in Florida, on Thanksgiving, the comfort didn’t come as easily as I thought it would.
I woke up Thanksgiving morning with an intense pressure in my chest, and when inhaling, the
pressure radiated across my chest, and down the front of my right arm. It was Thanksgiving, and I didn’t want to bother anyone on the holiday. Not our family doctor back home, nor anyone local. I’m also an avid Google user. Naturally, I googled my symptoms over and over throughout the day. Every website was telling me to seek medical attention as soon as possible. Chest pain was not something to take lightly, Google said. There was one page that saved me from feeling desperate enough to go to the local emergency room. That webpage said that pain on the right side of the chest generally means it’s not related to cardiovascular issues or heart attacks. So, I waited it out. I figured if the pain wasn’t any better after the weekend, then maybe I’d send a quick text to my home doctor to see if there was any concern or need to seek medical help nearby. Welp, the pain never went away. The pain would change in regard to intensity, but it was always present. A constant pressure pushing on my chest. Sometimes it hurt to inhale, then it would change and hurt when I fully exhaled. Lifting my arms didn’t cause further pain but sleeping on my side or sitting for too long would. I couldn’t figure out what I should, or should not do, to make the pain subside. Finally, after an unusual level of pain through the night, I knew I needed to talk to a doctor when I woke up last Wednesday morning. Even then, I hesitated. Jason and I talked through the options. It was 9am here, but only 6am back home. I didn’t want to call or text our family’s doctor so early in the morning. So do we wait until 11am, so we can contact him during “work hours”. Then what? Is he just going to tell us that he really needs to check my heartbeat, run scans, or whatever else and he can’t do any of that over a phone, so then we need to go to a local doctor anyway? If he’s going to say I need to be seen in person, then why wait until 11am to contact him? Maybe we should just go to a local clinic right now that accepts walk-ins? But is that too extreme? Maybe we can just talk to someone online or over the phone right now and then they can tell us if we need to see someone in person? And what about the cost of all these options? We didn't have insurance, and I'm not thrilled about acquiring medical bills. Through all of the debating back and forth, I kept reminding myself of how scared I was when I woke
up in the middle of the night with a pain so heavy in my chest, I was willing to walk into an E.R. right then. That cleared it up – I felt like I needed someone to see me, and then tell me I was completely overreacting. Jason and I drove down the road and had a visit with the Urgent Care doctor in his office that looked like a converted motel. They completed an EKG and an x-ray, with neither scan showing any signs of concern. Ultimately, the doctor concluded that the pain is likely nerves and/or inflammation in my chest muscles that are causing the discomfort. He said he wasn’t sure that was the root of the pain (since I had no triggering event that would cause the inflammation), but he was sure it wasn’t cardiovascular based on the results of the EKG and how he was able to induce more pain by performing certain movements with my arms. All in all, we walked away with a couple prescriptions for pain and inflammation that I have been taking for the last week. On a very bright side, the entirety of the Urgent Care visit (with EKG and x-ray) and the prescriptions set us back less than $500 out of our healthcare savings account. On the not-so-bright side, I finished the anti-inflammatory pills yesterday morning, and the pain is still in my chest. I may be seeking out an Urgent Care follow-up appointment. Or I may WebMD myself right into a deathbed prognosis and wait to see what happens.
So here’s to beach day perfection, having a mailing address, and to a husband that can talk me off a self-diagnosing ledge.
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