The Road Between Here and There

There are all kinds of different reasons to travel. Business, vacation, visit family, attend a wedding, engagement or baby celebration, funeral, bucket-list destination, adventure, and so much more. Mr. Whaldo and I have traveled for all of the above. But recently, we have had to travel for medical reasons.

It hasn’t been that long of a distance, just one state over. It was once every six months, then every two weeks, and now every three months. It’s not anything we expected to become used to, and, honestly, short road trips like that aren’t necessarily my jam.

At least, that’s what I initially thought.

In the last two weeks, we’ve had two trips from San Diego to Scottsdale and back, and in that time I’ve realized that this travel has been very meaningful and engaging.

First, let me say I’m not a fan of the I-8 route from San Diego to Phoenix. It’s always been pretty boring. So boring that I’ve read about it and actually knew someone who fell asleep on this drive because it is so monotonous, and that makes it very dangerous.

Once you leave San Diego proper and travel through the little towns along the interstate, you roll into the hills, past the Campo Reservation and the casino, into rocks and desert. Depending on the time of year, that part of the drive can be very pretty, with rolling green hills dotted with houses, horses, flowers, and trees. As it warms up, it turns to golden hills where the houses blend more into the landscape, the flowers are gone, and the horses just look thirsty. As much as a horse can look thirsty from a distance. I know, it’s all in my head. They’re well cared for.

I’ve made this drive a kajillion times in my life (okay, maybe a little less), but the point is I’ve seen it change dramatically over the years. I grew up in the Phoenix metropolitan area, raised my family there, and have seen nothing but growth in every direction, including on this route. There are more cows, a couple of new seas of solar panels, a whole lot of white wind turbines, and when you reach Yuma, an entire city instead of the scattered RV and trailer parks of days gone by.

One of the things that happened on the first medical trip was that I found myself distracted and not really noticing anything about the view along the way. On the way back, I noticed more fields of crops. On the next trip, I noticed more of the little towns, small businesses, and neighborhoods. Each trip, I see something different.

I’ve also noticed that the energy is different.

When you go on a road trip, you think snacks, music, sing-alongs, conversation, pretty scenery, and a jovial mood about where you’re going or what you’re seeing. You arrive a little excited because you have fun plans, you’re going to see people you love, or maybe you’re beginning an adventure.

The mood is different.

When it’s a road trip for medical purposes only, I find myself getting lost in thought more. I hear the music but don’t really feel like singing. I’m a pretty quiet person in general, but on these trips I tend to sink into my head and peek out at the world from a safe distance, which leads to even less conversation.

On these last two trips, one of which we just returned from, I wasn’t driving and found myself scanning the boulders and mountains for bighorn sheep. I didn’t find any. I did find lots of interestingly shaped rocks that sparked my imagination. One rock looked like a begging dog. Another looked like a seal sitting on a rock in the ocean, like something from The Little Mermaid. I noticed a whole lot of barrel cactus that looked like little troll heads popping out of the ground.

Mr. Whaldo notices the gas prices from place to place.

I notice that buzzards soar more in one part of the desert while hawks seem to prefer another.

I scan the skies for military jets carrying out their training routines. I scan the fields of crops, trying to understand the irrigation techniques and exactly what they're growing.

This last time, on the way to Scottsdale, I noticed that Mr. Whaldo kept changing the channel on the satellite radio. Then I realized he was trying to find that one song that would pull me out of my head and get me singing. I heard him jump in and sing along with me. At one point, he stopped on a disco song just to see if he could make me chair dance.

He succeeded.

That little victory led to a great round of laughter.

The vibe is different when you arrive too.

On vacation, you arrive, and suddenly you're invigorated. Maybe a little tired from the drive, but ready to explore, see people you love, or begin whatever adventure brought you there.

When you're traveling strictly for medical reasons, the energy feels completely different.  As soon as you arrive, there are things to do.

First, make sure the room is comfortable enough for restful sleep.  Then check that the bathroom is easy to reach during sudden, urgent visits.

How far are we from the facility?

What's the dinner plan so we get a good meal that hopefully leads to a good night's rest?

Do we have everything ready for the next morning?

Is the backpack packed with entertainment and comfort items?

Are all of the medications organized and easy to reach?

Is the hotel room ready for whatever we may need when we return from the hospital?

The more you do this sort of thing, the easier it becomes.  It stops being a checklist and slowly becomes, dare I say, routine.  After enough of these trips, it becomes less stressful.

Ultimately, I’ve figured out that I trust myself more.  I’m prepared, because that’s simply who I am.  

While I'm not the person receiving the medical care, I'm intimately invested in the procedure, the reactions, and the recovery afterward.  I’m very happy to be the one who asks the questions, and more importantly, remembers (or writes down) the answers.  

My smile comes easier because the medical staff makes it easier.  The patient is the priority, but they make me feel like I matter too.  I know that I’ll never have to be the person in the movies running down the hall screaming for a nurse.

Every patient deserves an advocate.  I just happen to be the patient’s spouse, and feel incredibly fortunate that he wants me to be his.  

I feel lucky that he wants me there to hold his hand or speak up for him when he doesn’t feel up to it. He trusts me to notice when something isn’t quite right, even if he hasn’t identified it himself.  

I’m extremely lucky to get to walk through this beside him.

I’m learning to relax more and have a little more fun on these trips. Levity matters when you witness the love of your life endure something unpleasant but necessary.  A smile goes a long way.  

He’s finding joy despite difficult circumstances, with me by his side.  I’m finding mine by standing beside him through it all.

I’ve watched other couples go through this, and I’ve always admired their strength from different angles.  

How brave to undergo some procedures.  How loving to hold someone’s hand when they can’t control their vomiting or their diarrhea.  How special to simply sit beside the person you love when all they can do is cry. 

What people don’t see are the small moments.  

The boring road trip across state lines.  The tasks of the night before. The routines of the morning. The exchanged looks that only mean something to the two of you.  The appreciation of humor.

Levity.

Joy.

Love.

I've seen that kind of love before.

I watched my own parents go through this.  They were fortunate enough to fulfill their wanderlust before it was too late.  Near the end of his life, my dad told me he had no regrets and that he'd lived the best possible life with his bride.  That’s what he always called my mom.

Mr. Whaldo and I took that lesson to heart. 

We don't get to choose every journey life asks us to take, but we do get to choose how we travel it. 

It’s a different type of travel, but no less worthwhile.

I know that thousands upon thousands of you have traveled this road too for just as many reasons.  Right now, it’s simply Mr. Whaldo’s and my turn.

In between medical travel, we will take every trip we can.  We’ll chase new experiences and adventures. They may look a little different.  They certainly won’t be any less fun.  

Right now, we’re working out the details for an African safari with friends, and that's only the latest plan.   There is so much more to come.

We'll fit in as much living as we possibly can. 

My parents taught us to live life to the fullest with every day you have together.  Even if it's something as ordinary as a medically required road trip. 

Stop for the ice cream cone.  

Grab the unnecessary snack when filling up the gas tank.  

Look up.  

Sing the songs.  

Do some chair dancing.  

Hold hands.  

Smile.

Today, road trips look different for Mr. Whaldo and me, but I'll take this kind of travel as long as it's with him. 

-J.S. Whaldo