The Wendlands offer perspective after dealing with a medical emergency during their travels.
By Mike Wendland, F426141
My wife, Jennifer, and I are not full-timers, but close to it. While traveling more than 200,000 miles all over the United States and Canada during the past five years, we’ve experienced our share of emergencies.
Let’s face it. As we reach retirement age, nearly all of us have more health concerns and reasons to seek medical care than we did in our younger years. But “what could happen” should never be a reason to sit home. Worrying about the unknown is not a good way to enjoy life.
So, Jennifer and I decided long ago as we began the RV lifestyle that we would, within reason, go where we wanted, when we wanted, and enjoy every part of our wandering adventures. When and if health emergencies arose, we would deal with them — then, where we were.
Now, I should first point out that we are both very active and have no chronic health issues. Obviously, we’re able to do more than those who suffer ongoing issues with disease or infirmity.
Nor do we have worrying dispositions. If you’ve been following us here in the magazine or attended our FMCA seminars, you know we practice something called serendipity travel. In other words, we take things as they come. We seldom make reservations. We meander our way to a destination, making the meandering part of the adventure, stopping and exploring whenever we see anything that intrigues or interests us.
When the Unexpected Happens
But what happens when the unexpected happens, when an emergency or health issue suddenly arises? Such a crisis occurred early this summer during our annual trip west, our ultimate destination being Glacier National Park.
I can honestly say that Rochester, Minnesota, and the world-famous Mayo Clinic were NOT even on our serendipity plans for this trip.
And, yet, that’s where I spent a Friday through Sunday in early June, as a patient undergoing emergency surgery to remove my gallbladder.
We had just left the Wisconsin Dells and were on Interstate 90 when pain forced me off the road to the nearest hospital — which just happened to be one of the top-rated hospitals in the whole world.
Mayo first opened in 1889 as St. Mary’s Hospital, run by the Sisters of St. Francis. They enlisted local physician W.W. Mayo as the first consulting doctor, and soon his two sons, William J. and Charles H. Mayo, joined. The excellence of care and the emphasis on research led to a medical school and clinic that has grown and expanded and become a premier health care facility, consistently ranked as top not only in the United States but the world.
That’s where I found myself that Friday at noon.
Dilemma #1
The first dilemma we faced was where to park the motorhome as we wheeled into the hospital. Our 10-foot-high, 24-foot-long 2017 Roadtrek would not fit in the designated parking ramps and garages. Jennifer talked to security, and they literally made a spot for it, right in the emergency-room driveway. No problem, they said. Jennifer could have spent the night out in the parking lot in the Roadtrek, but they wheeled in a cot, and she stayed in my room with me.
Dilemma #2
The second dilemma came with the diagnosis and was of my doing. After hours of tests, an abdominal ultrasound in the ER showed a 5-mm gallstone almost completely blocking the 7-mm neck of the gallbladder. Surgery was advised, as the risk of infection was high, but I balked. We had an RV trip to take, and I was due at Glacier in a little over a week’s time. I did not want to let a little pain delay the journey. Okay, make that a lot of pain. But, still, I was on the way to Glacier.
The docs tried as diplomatically as possible to convince me of the urgency of the situation. I was not convinced. Then Jennifer undiplomatically took over. I was convinced.
They admitted me just before midnight on Friday night and did the surgery late Saturday afternoon. It probably would have happened a little earlier, but the ER was filling up with injured bikers from the day’s festivities at a motocross race taking place nearby. They took me into the operating room at 4:00 p.m. Fortunately, they did it all laparoscopically, meaning minimal trauma to my body. Just four little holes: one for a miniature camera, two to make room for the equivalent of surgical chopsticks to tie off the gallbladder and put it into something resembling a zip-top bag, which was then pulled out through the fourth hole. They had fancier sounding names for it all, but that’s essentially how it went.
That’s a vast improvement from the way gallbladder surgery used to go. A display in the lobby features items from the hospital’s storied past. One of them is a spoon — a spoon! — used by Dr. W.J. Mayo to scoop out gallstones.
Back On Our Way
Anyway, such was our serendipity that weekend. On Sunday afternoon, they discharged me. And on Monday, we were back on our way to Glacier.
This is not the only medical emergency we have faced during our RV travels. Two years ago, Jennifer came down with a severe case of bacterial pneumonia while we were boondocking in the remote Beartooth Mountains. We made our way to the tiny town of Red Lodge, Montana, where she received excellent health care at a 10-bed hospital. After three days, she was discharged and feeling much better.
At an RV show in Phoenix, Jennifer broke a bone in her left hand when she went to move a folding chair and it snapped shut, crushing the hand. A local hospital had her X-rayed, splinted, wrapped, and discharged in less than two hours.
In March, I came down with a sudden outbreak of red and swollen sores on my left arm while we were on Florida’s Gulf Coast. A dermatologist saw me on short notice, correctly diagnosed the shingles I thought was poison oak, and gave me a shot and meds. The outbreak ended with little discomfort after a week or so.
Emergencies are Manageable On The Road
I tell you all this not to scare you but to comfort you. Just as you can manage emergencies from home, so you can while on the road.
But what if something really, really bad happens? What if you become incapacitated or worse and can’t drive your RV and spouse home? That’s where the FMCAssist Medical Emergency and Travel Assistance Program comes in, offering peace of mind in handling all the details of dealing with a catastrophic medical emergency. This program alone is worth the cost of FMCA membership.
So, what have we learned about the RV lifestyle and emergencies? Five things:
- Emergencies can and will happen. But they can be handled. Usually they represent just a short detour.
- Take things a step at a time. Count setbacks as part of the serendipitiness (is there such a word?) of travel and life. Stuff happens. You deal with it.
- Help is never that far away. Excellent medical care generally is available.
- Worrying about what might happen is the silliest waste of time there is.
- Life is an adventure. There’s something to be learned and appreciated from every experience.