The village of Petaluma lives on Highway 101 about 100 miles from our current location. That’s a reasonable drive for a day on the road. I know, some of you guys don’t get off the road until you reach the final destination no matter how far it is. Right, Doug?

We used to do that all the time when we wore younger people’s clothes. I think that’s something like a refrain from a Billy Joel song.

Diane’s calculating our next step after reviewing the weather on points north. What she saw totally rules out travel on I-5 through the Siskiyou Pass, so we are going west from Lodi to Highway 101. I may have mentioned that as a possibility yesterday. Today it’s a firm decision.

It’s 1035 now and we must check out of here by 1100 so I need to go outside and unplug everything.

NOTICE: There’s a long pause here caused by the need to visit the Emergency Room.

OK. Change of plans. At this time, it is 1908 hours and it’s been a very busy day. If you can do basic math you will see that it’s been about 8.5 hours since my last entry. So, “what,” you may ask, “happened to make it a busy day?” “Well,” I could respond, “Jerrie fell down and broke his crown and bled all over the parking lot. It could have been worse, but a healthy young nurse provided the help that he got.” Yup,

Here’s what happened.

I took Max for a walk around the park, all the way around, and returned him home so I could prepare the RV for launch to our next objective. As soon as I opened the door, Diane handed me a couple of bags that required me to transport them to the local dumpster.

Being of sound mind I chose to obey to avoid damage to myself.

Max accompanied me, as usual, and we deposited the bags in the dumpster and I turned to my left as I stepped away, and apparently stubbed my toe against one of the parking barriers strategically located near the dumpster.

As a result of my foot striking the parking bumper, I tumbled forward, knowing that a painful landing was forthcoming.

The landing never happened, as far as I could tell, because my next cognitive memory was of me in the RV getting my face washed by the lovely Diane. Apparently, there was a disturbing amount of blood on the left side of my face that was caused by the landing I don’t remember. Yes, I’m missing approximately 40 minutes of time from the fall until I regained consciousness sitting on the toilet in the RV. Although I was bleeding profusely, I retained enough legitimate wherewithal to ask Diane to take a photo to commemorate this onetime event. She took two of them.

You can tell by my smile that all was not right with my face. At this point, I was unaware of the amount of damage the fall had caused. Why else would I be smiling like that?

My memory skipped a little here and my next coherent memory I was outside listening to Diane and Dianne discuss the best course of action to address this catastrophe; call an ambulance, go to the emergency room, or wait until tomorrow to see how bad it really is. A trip to the emergency room won the discussion.

Not knowing where the hospital may be, Dianne led us to the closest one around. Diane led me inside and introduced me to the intake nurse and said the magic words that gets you to the head of the line. She said, “I think he may have had a stroke that caused him to fall.”

Boom! I was in a wheelchair heading down the hall to get a CT scan. Once that was done I was strapped to a gurney and a nurse pasted electrodes all over my chest then connected wires to them randomly to initiate an EKG. I also got an automatic blood pressure cuff and an oximeter. All of this was connected to the equipment behind my head. I learned that if I took the oximeter off, it made a bunch of noise. So, I left it on.

They put an IV in my left arm and a short while later a young lady appeared to fill six tubs with my blood. She took this manually from my right arm. She was very good, and I let her know she was appreciated.

Then I laid on that gurney for the next 4 hours waiting for more info from the doctor or a nurse passing by. During that time my face took on a different look.

Later in the day I discovered a wound on the inside of my left lower lip. It, too, was caused by my fall, I’m sure.

I found this one with my tongue. I’m guess it would really hurt if I got some citrus juice on it so I’m staying away from the oranges.

Now that I’ve shared all of this, I must report that I’m feeling pretty good, all things considered. So our plans to move to Highway 101 at the coast. are back in motion. We leave tomorrow morning for Petaluma. It’s 84 miles away and is supposed to take about 2 hours.