It’s Not a PCS Without a Trip to the ER
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4
Roadside assistance is miraculous. And time consuming. After accidentally draining our car battery and needing a jump, we got a late start leaving West Memphis. As a result, we had to stop at a hotel the following night to avoid staying on the road too late and needing to setup in the dark. This time when we parked the minivan at the hotel with the trailer attached, I made sure to remind my husband to turn off everything in the R-Pod. The next morning the battery was dead again because someone forgot to turn off the fridge. Luckily, the hotel manager was able to give us a jump and we were on our way relatively early.
That night we camped at Ponca State Park in Nebraska. As a born and bred coastal elite, I never really thought the middle of the country had the supreme beauty I saw seaside. I was wrong.
Ponca State Park was stunning. Middle America is lovely. I found myself falling in love with rural areas and fantasizing about retiring somewhere small with big views whenever this Navy journey is over, and we finally don’t need to PCS anymore.
We made our way from there to Badlands National Park where we had the unique experience of taking our toddlers to eat at a biker bar because it was the only place nearby and none of our groceries were still good after the fridge drained the car battery.
Badlands was our first National Park. I’d only been to National Parks in Hawaii before, which is beautiful everywhere, but had always heard they’re the crown jewels of our country. Badlands was eerie and gorgeous at once, looking more like the surface of the moon than any terrestrial locale. We drove around the park the first day then setup camp.
The following morning, I went for a run. A mile in my husband texted me that our youngest was hurt and crying uncontrollably. I turned around ran like hell.
I arrived to find my baby, Finnegan, sobbing and cradling his thumb. My husband told me he refused breakfast. That was disturbing. Since birth, we’ve joked that if Finn had a tagline, it would be, “I could eat.” He weighs almost as much as his older brother. The kid can eat.
My husband didn’t see what happened, but said he thought Finn’s thumb got stuck in the door to the R-Pod. After a quick inspection, we decided to get it checked out. The closest hospital in South Dakota was 40 miles away. I loaded Finn up, still in running gear, and set off. With COVID, we didn’t want to take the whole family.
On the drive, Finn sniffled and said plaintively, “Mommy, I hurt.” My heart just about fell out of my chest.
By the time we arrived at the ER, Finn was fine. It probably didn’t hurt that he watched The Lego Movie in the backseat on the way over. I took him in anyway, and he was running up and down the halls in the empty ER, giggling wildly, in no time. When the doctor got there, he was more interested in talking to me about running than Finn’s slightly swollen thumb. The X-Ray proved what we knew—that there was no lasting damage.
We returned to the campsite a little before lunch, then enjoyed Badlands for a bit. My nerves were pretty frayed though and I asked my husband if we could forego camping that night and move a little closer to Mount Rushmore, our next stop. He agreed and we packed up camp and whisked away to the comfort of a budget roadside hotel.