The Little House that Couldn't

I have a lot of fun at the expense of tiny house aficianados, but the truth is, I'm weirdly fascinated by them. The idea of simplifying how I live makes sense to me--especially for short amounts of time. Tiny houses work best as vacation homes, or better yet, as a vacation home on wheels.

So the DH and I started looking at motorhomes. Since he retired in January, we've done a good bit of traveling--a Caribbean cruise in January, Corpus Christi in June, Rapid City,SD and NYC in July. In September, we have a couple of family reunion weekends and a trip back up to the Mayo Clinic for me to check in with my pulmonologist. A nice Class A motorhome started making a lot of sense.

And after a brief search, we found one we really liked!

It's a 2007 Itasca Sunova 29 ft. with under 27000 miles on it. The unit was very clean with plenty of storage and with 2 slides, it was a tidy, livable space. There was a strategically placed outlet for my Bi-pap at night. The idea of having a generator we could use if our main house ever lost power for an extended time was enticing. We were excited and began to make buying noises.

Until we closed it up, started the generator and began running the AC for a test drive. As we lumbered down the road, I began to feel fuzzy-headed. It became difficult for me to finish my sentences. Unfortunately, I wasn't clear enough to even get out my oximeter to see where my O2 sats were, but I knew enough to know something was decidedly not right. Then after we left the dealership without sealing the deal, the fog that had descended on my brain began to fade.

When we got home, I googled "air quality in motorhomes" and discovered that I wasn't imagining it. Some of the materials used in RVs tend to "out-gas." They might not cause issues for most people but can be very debilitating for those with lung conditions. Formaldehyde is a common culprit. I also wondered if the generator was giving off more than power.  

So the dream of hitting the open road and camping in all the national parks is gone, but we still feel as if we dodged a bullet. Imagine how awful it would have been if we'd spent $40K and then discovered the unit made me loopy.

A mind really is a terrible thing to waste.

Me & the Big Apple!

I flew to NYC recently. This was my first flight in over a year. Traveling by air is still possible when you have a chronic lung condition and use supplemental O2 by day and a bi-pap machine by night. But it requires some extra planning.

Before you fly, you must notify your airline that you intend to bring a Portable Oxygen Concentrator on board. O2 cannisters are NOT allowed for safety reasons. If you don't normally use a POC, you can rent one for the duration of your travel. Your carrier will require you to fill out a form detailing the type of device you use and you must have your doctor sign off on whether you are able to travel. It's a good idea to have a copy of your prescription for O2 as well. You must also carry enough back up batteries to cover 1 1/2 times the expected time of travel. 

"Herkimer" (my pet name for my POC) counts as my personal item. He is, for airline purposes, my purse. I keep a slim wallet holding my ID & other cards, my glasses case, pill minder and cellphone in his small pocket. My other essentials had to go in my carry-on. 

Do NOT try to push the envelope beyond the standard 22" X 14" X 9" bag. If you're flying, check on the size of the plane. Some regional jets require passengers to "gate check" their bags. I was able to keep mine with me because I had to have access to spare batteries if I needed them. But I was only allowed to take my rollerboard on because it squeezed into the space under the seat in front of my husband. It would not fit into the overhead bin.

The good news it that my bi-pap (whom I affectionately call "Morpheus") and all his tubes, plugs and headgear fit snugly into the rollerbag with space for my portable oxygen concentrator's extra batteries, cannulas, and plugs as well. The bad news is that only other things I was able to pack in my carry-on was a very small make-up & toiletries kit, a couple pairs of underwear, PJ's and one change of clothing.

If Delta had lost my checked bag, it would have been a l-o-o-o-n-g week.

I was in NYC for the RWA (Romance Writers of America) National Conference, but because I was a late signing up, I was unable to stay in the conference hotel. We were at the W, a hotel around the corner on Times Square.


It's a super trendy, modern hotel. The entrance was flanked by two of these fern-head sculptures and the lobby ceiling was glass with water flowing above it in swirling jets.

Unfortunately, the hotel was undergoing renovations, so I was bucking some pretty serious construction dust at times. The next time I book a hotel room. I will ask if they are doing renovations before I commit to staying there.  Also I needed to be sure I took a deep breath before the super-fast elevator to the 49th floor shot upward. Poor little "Herkimer" shut down as the pressure changed so quickly. Fortunately, he righted himself once I got out of the elevator and started sending me those much needed puffs of O2.

Then a week after we got home, news of the Legionaires outbreak in the Bronx hit the news. I won't lie. I was a little freaked out about it. Of course, I was in the Times Square area most of the time, nowhere near the Bronx. But still...the same conditions with infected cooling towers that led to several deaths might well exist in Manhattan.

But I can't live my life being afraid of every germ out there. I'll never leave the house if I succumb to that. Even though my immune system is compromised, I can't go into hiding. I'm determined to live as normal a life as I can, for as long as I can.

And that means saying yes to adventure whenever it presents itself.