THE SUMMER VACATION THAT WASN'T

The Summer Vacation that Wasn’t

Or how I spent my summer

We planned our vacations perfectly. Each summer, we’d make the long, thirteen-hundred-plus miles drive to visit our children and their families. Usually about three months before we were scheduled to leave Florida, we’d sit down with our calendar and begin to plan. The first stop would be in Connecticut where our daughter lives. After four days (don’t want to wear out our welcome), we leave and head to Long Island, where two of our sons live. Because of their work schedules, we’d stay in a motel that was as much as possible, equally situated between their houses. After all, they only live thirty miles apart.

This was a vacation we anticipated every year. Then, one year, things went south!

It started when my husband, Rich had gone fishing with his friend three days before we were to leave. He tripped and fell backwards on the boat, crashing his head against the small deck step. Wham! He was out cold.

Our friend revived him, but my husband had no idea where he was – or why! Trying not to panic, he called his wife, my best friend, and said she should meet them at my dock. Penny ran down the street and explained what she knew, which wasn’t much. We waited.

Ten minutes later, Dan’s boat, against our canal “no wake” codes, came barreling down the small waterway and if a boat could screech to a halt, his would have.

My husband was still not coherent and extremely wobbly. It took all three of us to help him off the boat. After asking certain questions, I knew he suffered a mild concussion. I called EMS.

After a series of scans, x-rays, and tests, it was determined that, except for several bruised ribs and the bump on his head, there had been no other significant injuries and twenty-four hours of rest would be adequate. I asked the doctor about making the long drive we had scheduled, and he said there wasn’t any reason we couldn’t.

Just as precaution, we did delay our trip by one day, so on the fourth day, we placed our travel bags in the car and headed north.

During our trip, I noticed that my husband’s stamina waned a bit faster than usual which caused us to make more frequent pit stops.

Normally, our drive north would take, including pit stops and one night in a motel, about twenty-four hours. On that trip, we stayed overnight twice. I knew something wasn’t right, but he insisted it was the long drive that caused his fatigue. My husband hates it when I nag him about his health, but I couldn’t help but notice his breathing was off. Yet, we continued on.

Finally, after arriving in Connecticut, Rich napped periodically but our daughter attributed that to the long drive, the concussion, and his age ( he was 79). We still had an enjoyable time with our daughter and her family and all too soon it was time to head south to Long Island.

We checked into our motel room and Rich said he couldn’t lie flat; when he did, it hurt to breathe.

Being a retired first responder, I knew that meant his ribs were causing him more pain, so I took every pillow and cushion I could find in our room and created a recliner for him. That helped – to a point. Then the fatigue became worse. I had a bad feeling.

I convinced him that he needed medical attention and the sooner the better.

After driving to the nearest clinic, it was determined that my husband contracted COVID. He was placed on heavy-duty antibiotics and bed rest for a week. At least they ruled out a hospital stay.

Finally, considered to no longer be contagious, we visited our sons. Rich’s breathing was much better, but I felt his stamina still needed improvement. Both sons noticed the recent decline in my husband’s health but, well, what could they do? Nothing! The only thing I could do was keep a keen eye on him, make sure he rested often, stayed hydrated, and took any medications the doctors prescribed.

It's approximately 1,325 miles from our front door to Long Island. I don’t mind driving, but that is surely a long way away. Rich and I normally take turns driving for our yearly family visits, but this time? I had to pull up my big girlie pants and drive home. Yes, Rich insisted on driving as much as he was able, but the brunt of it was left to me.

What was supposed to be a twelve-day trip, ended up being eighteen days! But what could we do? We were caught between that proverbial rock and its darling hard place.

At least we saw our children and we arrived home safely.

Rich immediately took a nap while I unpacked the car and began the chore of post-vacation laundry.

This wasn’t what we planned. Our summer was not a summer to be remembered. There were no picnics, boat rides, or family outings. Instead, we had bed rest, medical visits, trips to the pharmacy and plenty of quiet time.

It was one year later, when Rich was diagnosed with COPD. Is this considered to be COVID-related? Who knows!! It is nothing more than a coincidence? Again, who knows!!

All I do know for sure is that after that one summer vacation that wasn’t, his health has deteriorated, and he tires rapidly.

Yes, he’s been re-tested for COVID, and those tests prove negative.

My theory? Whatever damage COVID had done four years ago, is still lingering and the worst part is aside from his COPD treatments, there’s not one damn thing we can do about it.

Oh, and the hardest part? We haven’t been on our northern vacation is four years. I miss the travel, the fun, but most of all, I miss seeing the boys. Our daughter has been able to swing a week to visit, but one son can’t get enough time from work without putting his job in jeopardy and the other son is disabled.

All I can say to that is: Thank God for FaceTime!