I escorted Mom to her primary care doctor on Friday. We shared with her some of the issues at the nursing/rehab center.

Doc: Take them both with you.

Me: Sputter, sputter. I am flabbergasted since she knows nothing about my traveling lifestyle, only that I live out-of-town. 

Me: I live in an RV and travel most of the time

Doc: Take them with you, anyway.

This makes perfect sense to me, but Mom wouldn’t hear of it. We discussed some other options, which the doc vetoed (i.e, aid service to the house). One thing I knew for certain, however, is that Mom needs to get out of the present place. So, the brothers are working on that angle while I provide care for Marvin and visit Mom.

In the meantime, a flame of possibility consumes me. I daydream about taking Mom and Marvin on the road for the remainder of their lives. Six months in a nursing home would buy a handicap-accessible RV and allow me to add solar power to the living area. I could load up the walkers, pills, diapers, ostemy bags, and laxatives. The parents would ascend to their rolling nursing home on the special lift. I would plan our travels around 3-month doctor appointments when we would come back to Akron. Heck, we could boondock in the doctor’s parking lot.

Where would I take the rolling nursing home? Eventually to all the National Parks. Up and down the west coast. Banff, Canada. Padre Island. Sonoran Desert. Priest Lake, ID. I would share with them the beauty I have cherished across our country: deserts, mountains, shorelines, lakes. Then, we might do historic battlefields, for Marvin. I could list places all day. They would meet their great-grandson.

I can imagine the daily routine (after meals and baths). In the evenings and mornings, would lower the parents to the ground and they could sit outside under the awning. Some days they would look out on the ocean and on other days a serene lake or snow-capped mountains. Alexa will be within shouting distance, and Marvin can read all day and/or listen to sports on the radio. In the morning, mom can listen to the birds, and in evening we could watch the stars come out. They both get cold so I would make sure they were covered in warm blankets and had warm drinks next to their chairs. My patience may give out at first. Marvin is bossy and a backseat driver. Mom has taken to whimpering rather than articulating. However, the joy of sharing my lifestyle with them could sustain me for some time.

Alas, this is my version of heaven. They cannot conceive of such a wild caper even though I know they could adjust and probably enjoy it.

 Me: Mom, we have to get you out of here in the next few days. Do you want to come home for a short time while we find a safe place for you?

Mom: No, I don’t feel safe at home anymore.

Me: Don’t forget, I can also take you with me.

Mom: Ha! Very funny.

Caper