It might be! It could be!! It.....????

At the time of this writing, I'm 73. Overall, I feel absolutely terrific. Considering my age, outwardly I appear in great shape. It's the inside that's the problem. I never seriously smoked  (got up to a pack a week in my late 20s to very early 30s, and quit), took reasonably good care of myself, exercised regularly (ran two marathons in my fifties), ate relatively healthy for the past 20 plus years, and even with all this my lungs are horrible, and my coronary arteries have extensive calcification. It seems you can't fight and win with genetics, nor can you expect to live forever.

I've been experiencing shortness of breath for over 5 years, and since my dad died of a heart attack at 50, the doctors thought that the shortness of breath was probably a heart issue. They regularly monitored me for that. Recently they decided to check my lungs. The pulmonologist diagnosed me as having idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis. This is considered to be a death sentence without a transplant. At my age and with the coronary issues, I wouldn't qualify for a transplant, nor would I want one. It's said that victims of this disease, on average, last three to five years after diagnosis. You spiral downhill with breathing problems, and become more and more debilitated until death is either caused by the disease directly, or the heart fails due to the increased demands that this disease puts on it. This is a slow insidious disease that most at first attribute to just getting older. I've read where some, when thinking back, were sure they had the beginnings of it decades earlier. My hope is that due to my exercise level I noticed it early, and I'll possibly have a longer run following my diagnosis.

Last year we decided to go on a road trip. Didn't make it. We decided that come hell or high water we would do it this year. In comes my diagnosis, and a stern warning from my pulmonologist that my disease combined with the high elevation in the areas we wish to travel would most probably result in a very bad outcome. It seems my lungs' ability to absorb oxygen has been greatly diminished, and the thin air at high elevations wouldn't work for me.

Never one to accept a "no" easily, I called and asked if I could handle the elevation using supplemental oxygen. The reply was yes, but I didn't qualify for oxygen based on my current saturation levels at Austin's elevation. Lets just say that there's more than one way to skin a cat, and there's more than one way to flunk a six minute walk test to qualify for oxygen. I got the supplemental oxygen.

Now the last big hurrah part, the trip. We left Austin on Wednesday 9/4 and arrived at Palo Duro Canyon in the Texas panhandle early that evening. We stayed in a stone cabin right at the rim. Sleep walking there would not be a good thing. The elevation at the rim was 3500 ft. Fortunately, this elevation didn't seem to pose a problem except after driving all day, and then unloading the luggage. It was a bit more of an effort than it should have been. However, supplemental oxygen was never needed during our two night stay and we were thrilled with the cabin and its patio. Drinking a few beers out there in the evening with the amazing views, and listening to our iPod hooked to a dock was heaven.

Not exactly the Waldorf, but it was absolutely terrific.

A view from the patio.

Another angle from our cabin's patio.

                                                                                        

It's amazing how well and where you can  fall asleep after an 8 hour drive, a few beers, and possibly being in a slight oxygen deficit. It looks like I'm rehearsing for my coffin pose. lol Yes, that's a metal picnic table but, I did have a pillow.

We spent two nights and one full day at Palo Duro. We had an enjoyable hike on the canyon's floor, and I even did a little hill climbing without really feeling in trouble at any time with my breathing, however the heat was a little tough. The sights on our hike were interesting and beautiful.

I haven't any clue what I was doing, other than burning up.

 

   Maybe standing on the wall and yelling into the canyon

 "I am king of the world" wasn't such a good idea. ;-)

On Friday 9/6 we left Palo Duro Canyon and headed for Moab, Utah stopping to shop at Clines Corner, NM which has an elevation of 7000 ft. As long as I didn't exert myself very much, my oxygen saturation level stayed in an acceptable range. We ended up staying the night in Gallup, NM which had an elevation of 6500 ft. I seemed to be more affected by the elevation in Gallup than Clines Corner which was higher. I decided to break out the oxygen for sleeping. I employed a portable oxygen concentrator for this purpose. About an hour and a half into the night the thing starts beeping. It seems it has an alarm to detect if you're not breathing. I haven't figured this one out yet. Is that alarm supposed to wake you up if you're dead? At any rate it's not picking up my breathing as the nose piece that delivers the oxygen isn't detecting my shallow mouth breathing. What to do? Middle of the night, groggy, tired, oxygen starved, and the damned machine beeping, I just popped the nose piece into my mouth without so much of a wipe. It worked, and I woke up fresh wondering if I was a booger eater. Extra brushing and mouthwash that morning for sure.

We arrived in Moab, Utah on 9/7 armed with packets of info generously provided to us by Mr. Dave Hansford of the Utah Office of Tourism. The town itself is at a comfortable 4000 ft. I never used oxygen at any time in the city. If you've ever been to Moab and the surrounding areas and parks you can understand why I can't find enough superlatives to describe it there. If you've never been, you must put it on your bucket list, but do it while you're still pretty mobile and agile. Fortunately, at my advanced age and very questionable health, I still am. We rented a Jeep to do some off-roading on Sunday. It was absolutely incredible.

            

                         

Yes, this shot was taken out of the passenger side window. Look at how close some tracks are to the edge. 

 Standing on Musselman Arch in Canyonlands National Park. Me, being a little lightheaded from a slight oxygen deficit standing on an approximately four foot wide crest of the arch, maybe two hundred feet up is probably not the smartest thing I've ever done. Not to be outdone, Amelia followed later. 

The following day we did the Arches National Park, however due to an overnight downpour a number of the main roads were closed. Amelia got a few shots, but nothing like the day before.

Tuesday morning we headed for Cannonville, UT only to be confronted by a road closure due to the rain. We were told it would probably be a three hour delay, but we could go back to Hanksville, a town we had passed about a half an hour earlier and wait, and we would be notified when the road was reopened. The other option would be to do a long detour that would take about three hours. However, we would be more assured of the length of the delay that way as the the three hour repair time was just an estimate, and could be longer. I initially chose the sure thing, but after getting pass Hanksville by about a half an hour, I decided I had made a bad decision. I went back and sure enough word just came through that the road was re-opened.

We continued on it to Torrey where we stopped for a meal at  the Red Cliff Restaurant. Amelia was absolutely delighted to find one of her favorite dishes, toasted raviolis. It seems that these are almost unique to the St. Louis area, and to find them here, in the middle of Utah, was a great surprise. I had a Reuben sandwich that was on a par with the best I ever remember eating, which was at the coffee shop in The Forest Park Hotel, St. Louis in 1966. Given I remember all those details, you know it had to be delicious, and the one from Red Cliff was every bit as good..

At Torrey we picked up the scenic byway highway 12, and it was absolutely breathtaking. We were so glad I opted out of my initial decision of taking a detour that would of had us on I-70.

We got into Cannonville that evening. With the elevation being close to 6000 feet, and me being a little wore out mentally as well as  physically, I decided on oxygen for sleep so I would feel very rested in the morning. I used a tank which doesn't have a not breathing alarm, and it worked like a charm.

We ate breakfast in Tropic which is 10 minutes down the road from Cannonville at Clarke's Restaurant. Amelia and I shared shared an order of carmel pecan pancakes. I would almost do the trip over just to get some more of those. They were sensational. That bowl of Cheerios in the morning now, somehow just isn't the same. :-(

Wednesday morning we headed for Zion National Park continuing on beautiful highway 12 which took us through the magnificent Bryce Canyon. I'm sorry for all the over the top adjectives, but they don't even come close to describing the sights in this area. However, on this particular day we encountered more rain, and with it fog that compromised our view. Amelia rather enjoyed the fog element in the shots that she took, and along with that, the cloudy skies that we had been encountering on this trip were very agreeable with her light sensitive eyes. She was loving it. "If Mama's happy, everybody's happy."

We stayed on highway 12 to Zion National Park, which was one of our destinations, and had planned on spending the night in Springdale which is at the entrance to the park coming from the opposite direction. We were told at the park's entrance that there had been a collapse of highway 12, and to get to Springdale we would have to make a hundred mile detour. Now Mama's not even happy, that is until we start driving the detour. It was beautiful. With all the stops that we made to enjoy and photograph the amazing landscape, colors, and textures of this detour, it took us three hours to complete it.

Looks like a flash flood waiting to happen. 

We arrived in Springdale relatively early in the evening and checked in at the LaQuinta there. I asked the desk clerk what the elevation was and was told 3900 ft. to which I breathed a sigh of relief. One thing led to another in our conversation, and come to find out her mother also has IPF. However, she's been in remission, and to the point that somehow she has miraculously recovered from needing oxygen to not needing oxygen. Knowing full well my situation, the clerk did give us a first floor room that we requested in advance, but possibly keeping with numerous lodging chains' policy regarding Priceline people, she gave us a room in the back right in the middle of the two access walkways for the building. Other than being on the second floor, there was no way she could have put more distance from the point where I would park to a room. Amelia does not travel lightly. Thanks a lot Gail. ;-) We were told in Sedona, AZ that it's customary for chains to give Priceline people the rooms of last choice. Ironically, this was the only time it happened to us, and Gail at La Quinta was the only desk clerk to know of my situation. In her defense, even though the room was out of the way, it was a newly refurbished room. I really think that was what she was focusing on, and besides that the 3900 ft. elevation didn't cause me much of a problem. After unloading, I still had enough breath left to good naturedly call her up and say " I thought you were my friend." She seemed genuinely embarrassed and apologetic.

That night we ate at Wildcat Willie's. After a long, hard, but thoroughly enjoyable day, we thought we would share a side of ribs. Hell, we deserve it and I've stopped worrying about all that healthy eating crap, particularly seeing where all my efforts have gotten me. We dug in. I can now die knowing that I've eaten the best ribs in the world. My God, I know the people who couldn't see us were thinking that we were having sex in our booth. Just simply mind blowing good. Kind of like one of those, "I'll have what she's having" moments.

The weather saga continues. After A great breakfast at now my favorite La Quinta, we headed again for Zion. This time from the Springdale side. Deja vous- another road collapse, and now this entrance is closed. No Utah Zion for us. Off to what's described as the Zion of Arizona, Sedona.

When planning our trip, Sedona was almost an afterthought. I really wasn't all that interested. It was just a place to stop on our way home that we had heard was really nice. I only planned for an overnight stay on our return to Texas. I'm a moron. What the hell was I thinking?  The Sedona surroundings are gorgeous, and the town is very enjoyable as well. Very relaxing, however at a 4500 ft. elevation getting close to getting out of my comfort level when doing exertion without supplemental oxygen. Normal things weren't of any problem. Even unloading the luggage, and carrying it a pretty good distance wasn't much of a problem for me, but I found out later that hiking uphill was not the best of plans. Another enjoyable thing was driving highway 89A getting there.

Amelia Pricelined a room at Poco Diablo Resort. Contrary to the usual policy regarding Priceliners, the Poco Diablo management saw fit to upgrade our room. It was gorgeous, and full of amenities. We loved it, and did the no-brainer. We signed up for an extra night. The concierge, William, was most helpful in informing us of points of interest in Sedona. The following day we made a full day and night of it, even enjoying a visit up to Jerome. I broke out my M-tank of oxygen and backpack for this mile high mountain town with steep inclines. A lot of good that did me. I found out later that the supply hose was crimped.

 Sedona, and its surrounding area was truly an amazing surprise that we really hadn't anticipated at all.

I probably won't have to wait on IPF. Amelia will want to kill me if she sees I posted this- My hair's a mess. I don't have any makeup on, yada, yada, yada.

William, the concierge at Poco Diablo advised us of the location for this shot. There were over a hundred people there taking photos.

Then again, given my age and health, one has to wonder if this could be my last trip of this length. We were gone for twelve days, and on the days that we drove, actually I did all the driving, we averaged 425 miles a day. Not too shabby for an old geezer on his last leg. Considering that IPF can exacerbate very unexpectedly, I really do wonder if this might have been my last big hurrah, but if it was, even with the weather, all I can say is "Hurrah, for my last big hurrah. It was fantastic!"

Please note: While there are numerous links to businesses contained within this blog, it has not been monetized in any way, nor is there any interest in doing so.