It only takes one time, and a bit of history
Living in a caravan, it only takes one time to learn a lesson. There is little room for error, and less room for the same error to be repeated.
Case in point. Heat.
The vent free propane heater my Dad purchased for the caravan, has not been installed yet. More concern has been placed on securing a leak free environment, and it hasn't been cold enough yet to worry about it.
I have a space heater, which works very well for us, as at night we all sleep on the same bed. (I've read many other blogs and forums, that suggest a canine companion to help keep warm, I just took it a step further)
So, two nights ago, I had the little space heater going, and figured, we are sleeping, no reason for it to be 80 degrees in here. So I turned the dial down, in the dark, according to memory. One turn of the dial, 65 degrees.
5am was a frigid awakening, seriously cold. Gordita (the Chihuahua mix) and Sugar the cat, were both snuggled up under the blankets, and Brikita (German Shepard) and Vigil the other cat, obviously had no intentions of moving, so it was up too me to investigate the reasons for the cold.
Never trust memory in the first few weeks of Caravan life. Because it can be wrong. In my mind the dial went to 65 degrees, in reality, it went to fan.
So I simply pushed the cold air from the floor around for about 5 hours.
As I said. You only make a mistake one time in a Caravan. If I had done that when it was below freezing, well I don't want to know how that would end up. I can laugh at my mistake now, because it was a good lesson. And one that will not need repeating.
The animals are all well adjusted to life in a caravan. The cats were my biggest worry in all honesty. Sugar is 10 years old, and she has been with me sense she was just a few hours old. But we have always lived in apartments, or homes where she had space. Virgil is 3 years old, he loves to run and sing at 2am, like most cats will do. But he is well entertained with running up and down the cat plank to his food, cat area, or jumping from the cat area, across the bed, up the screen door, and back to the cat plank.
Sugar has little use for such goings on, as she is the Princess, whom doesn't take part in such behavior. She really is the dog, stuck in the cat body.
The fun part of all this small space living, is how my friend Sarah and I are learning ways to compress, and create functionality for all of us in the caravan. The cat plank was an idea I came up with to keep Brikita from eating the cat food. I knew the overhead storage area would be prime feline real-estate (location, location, location)It was only fitting to make a walk way.
Sarah cut part of a pallet and instant cat plank. We added a old throw rug which I cut in half and stapled into place, and there you have it. Happy cats.
Now a bit of history as to why I am living in the caravan. Obviously this is not a choice that a person makes one morning. This is a choice that is made after some serious thought, reflection, and in cases such as mine, necessity.
For over 35 years I have been a horse trainer, and riding instructor. I've had alot of experience with being out doors, camping, pack trips in the back country for days at a time, but that does not alone prepare a person for living in a caravan. Over the years of my life, there have been several events, which we will not go into, that have lead me too this living situation. And it is only possible through the efforts and support of my friends Sarah and her husband Dirk. As the caravan was provided by them, as well as the place to park it on. The caravan, (which will be given a name at some point) resides in the alleyway of their land, between the yard, and the horses pasture. An ideal location for someone whom has PTSD, struggles with crowds and loud noises. (I am lulled too sleep with the sounds of horses moving about, a snoring Gordita and a few nights ago an Owl)
In the past few years, the health of my body has declined. From what illness/condition exactly, we don't know yet. I used to be a very strong person physically, able to do alot of manual labor. I've not only been a horse trainer and professional carriage driver, but I've worked for the county fairgrounds driving backhoes, cleaning stalls, and remodeled homes. I can paint, hang drywall, repair woodwork, all sorts of wonderful things. And then the mystery illness hit.
Now I am unable to do these things. I have lost all muscle in my body, and all endurance for work. Even making the bed is an effort. In short. My body is shutting down, and no doctor can explain why. I've had tests for every condition that is obvious. Such as a deficiency of some kind, not the problem. No blood sugar issues, no infections or viruses, I've even been checked for Lyme's disease and assorted fungus. All negative.
What I do know is I have damage to various nerves within the spinal column. As well as symptoms of damage and failure to the ANS. The Autonomic Nervous System is a lovely program that operates our blood pressure, our heart rate, our appetite. As I mentioned before. It also controls our "Flight or fight" instinct. Or as some scientist say. The "hunt and gather, or feed and breed" instinct.
If this program become damaged, or confused, things get interesting. For myself, it effects blood pressure, I seem to run at very low blood pressure, and a extremely fast heart rate. Testing preformed by a cardiologist in early 2016 showed my heart is fine, but my body is telling itself I am "Running from Cave Trolls" for no reason. In my sleep while on a Holter monitor my heart-rate reached over 170 bpm.
That will make ya tired.
The other less fun thing that has occurred is lack of appetite. I have very little appetite, and when I do eat, it's very little and often times I fight the urge to vomit. This is not a good thing. I am a lover of food, and at times when I get a craving for something, by the time I make it, the urge has been replaced by the feeling of nausea. It is a constant battle, and one that I hate. I know our bodies need fuel to function, so what do you do when your body is working against itself?
Some scientist in research Universities are studying various types of Autonomic Neuropathy, or even genetic neuropothy, but if you don't have any form of medical insurance, well your out in the cold. Or in my case, out in the caravan.
Before the caravan, I lived in the state of Nevada. I was eligible for Medicaid in Nevada. I am not eligible in Utah.
I'll be honest when I say. I do wonder if I'll pass away from this illness and simply be another number in a long list of statistics that people like to throw around, but never really understand or consider the humans that account for those numbers.
I didn't choose to become ill. I didn't choose to become so physically weak that I can no longer even pick up my saddle. I didn't choose to not be able to go train and help horses and humans. These are not decisions a person makes willingly. To be completely incapable of functioning, is a form of prison in itself. At the age of 43, I should have many more years of hard work ahead of me. Yet I know, every morning I am grateful I woke up at all, and that I am facing another day of an inability to contribute to society.
This is not a pleasant feeling. My Dad Bob raised me to work hard, work long hours and contribute. No matter how much I try to push myself, or mentally psych myself up (Mind over matter) I always run on empty.
I used to be in a relationship, some months ago, it started to decline. His inability to function became obvious when he started stealing my medications. Keep in mind, I don't take any sort of narcotics, or opioids. They don't help with nerve pain. And the few that do, are highly addictive, and would render me a zombie. So the meds this individual figured he needed more than I do, were muscle relaxers. I'm on 2 different kinds. One, works on the spinal column, and the nerves along the spine. I started on it in 2015 when doctors were still of the mind I had MS. The other one is a general muscle relaxer, that helps to reduce the spasms that strike on a whim. Going without these medications is not an option. They are responsible for my ability to walk, move,and generally function at the low rate I do.
I wont go into the emotional, mental abuse that came with the individual taking my meds.
What matters is Sarah and her Mother came and helped me pack and got me out in one day. They drove 6 hours to do this.
These are the kinds of people and friends that everyone should have in their lives.
So the caravan was the one way I could retain the animals, as they keep me going, and also to maintain some form of independence. I do have days where I am glad I'm not alone. I worry if I will fall, or have a spasm that will require a trip to Hospital. Being alone in those times is a scary prospect.
It is interesting to consider how life has changed over the weeks and months. I am a Mother of three, 2 daughters and 1 son. And they have given me 4 grandchildren. I used to imagine a big house, with plenty of rooms to run amuck in. Now I imagine the kids coming, and spending time outside. Weather permitting of course.
So that is how the caravan life came to be.
Sarah working on removing the vent covers that were not closable.
The roof posts being put in. The tarps is temporary.
Brikita in her spot of the bed.
Virgil walking the plank.
Sugar and Gordita enjoying the sun in the morning.
Case in point. Heat.
The vent free propane heater my Dad purchased for the caravan, has not been installed yet. More concern has been placed on securing a leak free environment, and it hasn't been cold enough yet to worry about it.
I have a space heater, which works very well for us, as at night we all sleep on the same bed. (I've read many other blogs and forums, that suggest a canine companion to help keep warm, I just took it a step further)
So, two nights ago, I had the little space heater going, and figured, we are sleeping, no reason for it to be 80 degrees in here. So I turned the dial down, in the dark, according to memory. One turn of the dial, 65 degrees.
5am was a frigid awakening, seriously cold. Gordita (the Chihuahua mix) and Sugar the cat, were both snuggled up under the blankets, and Brikita (German Shepard) and Vigil the other cat, obviously had no intentions of moving, so it was up too me to investigate the reasons for the cold.
Never trust memory in the first few weeks of Caravan life. Because it can be wrong. In my mind the dial went to 65 degrees, in reality, it went to fan.
So I simply pushed the cold air from the floor around for about 5 hours.
As I said. You only make a mistake one time in a Caravan. If I had done that when it was below freezing, well I don't want to know how that would end up. I can laugh at my mistake now, because it was a good lesson. And one that will not need repeating.
The animals are all well adjusted to life in a caravan. The cats were my biggest worry in all honesty. Sugar is 10 years old, and she has been with me sense she was just a few hours old. But we have always lived in apartments, or homes where she had space. Virgil is 3 years old, he loves to run and sing at 2am, like most cats will do. But he is well entertained with running up and down the cat plank to his food, cat area, or jumping from the cat area, across the bed, up the screen door, and back to the cat plank.
Sugar has little use for such goings on, as she is the Princess, whom doesn't take part in such behavior. She really is the dog, stuck in the cat body.
The fun part of all this small space living, is how my friend Sarah and I are learning ways to compress, and create functionality for all of us in the caravan. The cat plank was an idea I came up with to keep Brikita from eating the cat food. I knew the overhead storage area would be prime feline real-estate (location, location, location)It was only fitting to make a walk way.
Sarah cut part of a pallet and instant cat plank. We added a old throw rug which I cut in half and stapled into place, and there you have it. Happy cats.
Now a bit of history as to why I am living in the caravan. Obviously this is not a choice that a person makes one morning. This is a choice that is made after some serious thought, reflection, and in cases such as mine, necessity.
For over 35 years I have been a horse trainer, and riding instructor. I've had alot of experience with being out doors, camping, pack trips in the back country for days at a time, but that does not alone prepare a person for living in a caravan. Over the years of my life, there have been several events, which we will not go into, that have lead me too this living situation. And it is only possible through the efforts and support of my friends Sarah and her husband Dirk. As the caravan was provided by them, as well as the place to park it on. The caravan, (which will be given a name at some point) resides in the alleyway of their land, between the yard, and the horses pasture. An ideal location for someone whom has PTSD, struggles with crowds and loud noises. (I am lulled too sleep with the sounds of horses moving about, a snoring Gordita and a few nights ago an Owl)
In the past few years, the health of my body has declined. From what illness/condition exactly, we don't know yet. I used to be a very strong person physically, able to do alot of manual labor. I've not only been a horse trainer and professional carriage driver, but I've worked for the county fairgrounds driving backhoes, cleaning stalls, and remodeled homes. I can paint, hang drywall, repair woodwork, all sorts of wonderful things. And then the mystery illness hit.
Now I am unable to do these things. I have lost all muscle in my body, and all endurance for work. Even making the bed is an effort. In short. My body is shutting down, and no doctor can explain why. I've had tests for every condition that is obvious. Such as a deficiency of some kind, not the problem. No blood sugar issues, no infections or viruses, I've even been checked for Lyme's disease and assorted fungus. All negative.
What I do know is I have damage to various nerves within the spinal column. As well as symptoms of damage and failure to the ANS. The Autonomic Nervous System is a lovely program that operates our blood pressure, our heart rate, our appetite. As I mentioned before. It also controls our "Flight or fight" instinct. Or as some scientist say. The "hunt and gather, or feed and breed" instinct.
If this program become damaged, or confused, things get interesting. For myself, it effects blood pressure, I seem to run at very low blood pressure, and a extremely fast heart rate. Testing preformed by a cardiologist in early 2016 showed my heart is fine, but my body is telling itself I am "Running from Cave Trolls" for no reason. In my sleep while on a Holter monitor my heart-rate reached over 170 bpm.
That will make ya tired.
The other less fun thing that has occurred is lack of appetite. I have very little appetite, and when I do eat, it's very little and often times I fight the urge to vomit. This is not a good thing. I am a lover of food, and at times when I get a craving for something, by the time I make it, the urge has been replaced by the feeling of nausea. It is a constant battle, and one that I hate. I know our bodies need fuel to function, so what do you do when your body is working against itself?
Some scientist in research Universities are studying various types of Autonomic Neuropathy, or even genetic neuropothy, but if you don't have any form of medical insurance, well your out in the cold. Or in my case, out in the caravan.
Before the caravan, I lived in the state of Nevada. I was eligible for Medicaid in Nevada. I am not eligible in Utah.
I'll be honest when I say. I do wonder if I'll pass away from this illness and simply be another number in a long list of statistics that people like to throw around, but never really understand or consider the humans that account for those numbers.
I didn't choose to become ill. I didn't choose to become so physically weak that I can no longer even pick up my saddle. I didn't choose to not be able to go train and help horses and humans. These are not decisions a person makes willingly. To be completely incapable of functioning, is a form of prison in itself. At the age of 43, I should have many more years of hard work ahead of me. Yet I know, every morning I am grateful I woke up at all, and that I am facing another day of an inability to contribute to society.
This is not a pleasant feeling. My Dad Bob raised me to work hard, work long hours and contribute. No matter how much I try to push myself, or mentally psych myself up (Mind over matter) I always run on empty.
I used to be in a relationship, some months ago, it started to decline. His inability to function became obvious when he started stealing my medications. Keep in mind, I don't take any sort of narcotics, or opioids. They don't help with nerve pain. And the few that do, are highly addictive, and would render me a zombie. So the meds this individual figured he needed more than I do, were muscle relaxers. I'm on 2 different kinds. One, works on the spinal column, and the nerves along the spine. I started on it in 2015 when doctors were still of the mind I had MS. The other one is a general muscle relaxer, that helps to reduce the spasms that strike on a whim. Going without these medications is not an option. They are responsible for my ability to walk, move,and generally function at the low rate I do.
I wont go into the emotional, mental abuse that came with the individual taking my meds.
What matters is Sarah and her Mother came and helped me pack and got me out in one day. They drove 6 hours to do this.
These are the kinds of people and friends that everyone should have in their lives.
So the caravan was the one way I could retain the animals, as they keep me going, and also to maintain some form of independence. I do have days where I am glad I'm not alone. I worry if I will fall, or have a spasm that will require a trip to Hospital. Being alone in those times is a scary prospect.
It is interesting to consider how life has changed over the weeks and months. I am a Mother of three, 2 daughters and 1 son. And they have given me 4 grandchildren. I used to imagine a big house, with plenty of rooms to run amuck in. Now I imagine the kids coming, and spending time outside. Weather permitting of course.
So that is how the caravan life came to be.
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