Day Fourteen: Henderson, NV, to Pismo Beach, CA
“What’s up with the RV?” “You’re driving for 15 days straight?!?” “Are you out of your blessed minds?” They are valid questions — no doubt. And it’s just now dawning on me, as we hit the two-week mark of this grand and somewhat ill-advised adventure, that I haven’t yet told the back story. So here goes: For my entire adult life, my Dad has teetered right on the precipice of health disaster. Diagnosed with a triple shot of rare autoimmune disorders more than 20 years ago, he has been in and out of hospitals — and consciousness — ever since. My sophomore year of college, he slipped into a coma for weeks then threw himself a big “I’m Not Dead Yet” party a few months later. He was miserable on Prednisone for about a decade. Then he spent time with specialists at the Mayo Clinic, before growing frustrated with the pace. He was found unconscious in a ditch off the side of I-70 when driving East to visit us five years ago. That lead to two months of emergency surgeries and
