Since it’s rather a long story, I’m going to break it up into parts.  The first part is this one, where I get stuck in the hospital.  The second will involve me being sent home on the Greyhound bus.  The third part will involve the time I had to spend at home jumping through hoops to prove I could go back to work.  Ah, bureaucracy at its finest.

So here goes.

Where Holly Gets Stuck In The Hospital For Four Days In Gary, Indiana

Holly, the human pincushion. Isn’t the pattern on my hospital gown to die for?  Both arms ended up with even more big giant bruises like the one you see here, because they weren’t done with the IV needling yet.  Oh no.

Back toward the end of March, I was feeling some chest pain on my left side.  It was a low-level constant headache sort of pain.  The kind of pain you would ordinarily tune out if it was, well, a headache.  Or, if it got bad enough, you’d take some ibuprofen and soldier on.  Well that’s all well and good, but it was my chest.  And it’s been drummed into my head that if there is pain on the left side, it can be a heart attack.  I didn’t have any of the other symptoms of heart attack, just the chest pain.  And I had it for a few days.  Sometimes it would get worse, sometimes it would get better, and sometimes I wouldn’t feel it at all for a few hours.  Then it would come back.  It seemed to hurt more with sharp intakes of breath, and squishing down on my chest (right over my smiley face tattoo) seemed to both hurt and help.  Don’t know how both are possible, but it seemed like it was true.

I was on a load that was supposed to take me out to New York.  I was sooo excited, since I haven’t been to New York in seven years or so.  I ignored the pain, even though I know that is a stupid thing to do, in part because I was excited for the trip and in part because we could really, really use the money.

I get to Gary, Indiana and stop at my company’s truck terminal to stay the night.  This was Saturday night.  I was extra excited, because I had contacted Bethany Jo Lee, a blogging buddy of mine, and we were going to meet face to face for the first time when I passed through Ohio, where she’s from.  I was seriously looking forward to meeting up with her.  I was fortunate enough to be heading though Ohio on the weekend, so we would have time to meet.  If it had been a weekday, she wouldn’t have been able to do it.

Sunday morning when I woke up, my chest hurt extra extra bad and it scared me.  It was the worst it had felt.  I walked into my terminal and said that I think they were going to need to take the load off me, because I needed to go to the hospital for chest pain.  Renee, the woman who was working the desk, was a real pro.  She immediately called 911 and then went in search of some aspirin, just in case it was a heart attack.  Paramedics came to get me and they whisked me off to a hospital in Gary.

I got taken to the ER and they started up an IV. Or tried to.  I had to get poked three times before the IV was successful.  I have slippery, uncooperative veins that also like to hide.  They had to use this red light machine to even find them in the first place.  They put me on some fluids, saying that my veins were so hard to find because I was dehydrated (funny, but my pee was fine and I drink a half gallon or more of water every day…).  They also took a syringe and started shooting something else into my IV without telling me what it was.  As they did so, I asked what the nurse was giving me, and she said, “Morphine for your pain.”  What?  I didn’t ask for that!  I’ve never had morphine in my life!  And while my pain was the worst it had been, it wasn’t morphine-bad.  That ticked me off.

Then the morphine hit.  And I was ticked off even more.

My experience with opiate drugs has been limited to Tylenol with Codeine.  I was prescribed that when I had my toenail removed, once upon a time.  The pills gave me a headache that was worse than the pain in my toe.  It’s like a sibling trying to be helpful when he or she says, “I’m sorry you stubbed your toe and it hurts; let me help you.”  WHAM!  And your dear, helpful sibling punches you really hard in the arm.  “There, now you don’t notice the pain in your toe, right?”  Yeah, so helpful.

The morphine caused a pain in the back of my neck that was worse than the heart pain.  It also made my head feel like it was way too small for my brain, and that my brain was going to leak out through my eye sockets or something.  It was NOT comfortable or helpful at all.

Around the same time, the nurse slapped a nitro patch on my chest.  Bear in mind, my heart rate was 122/72 at this point.  Common sense would tell you that nitro, which is supposed to make your blood pressure drop, would drop my normal heart rate down into the badland area.

Sure enough, it did.  I came *this* close to passing out, and the nurse rushed over and ripped the offending patch off my chest.

At this point, I’m wondering if my heart is trying to kill me or if the nursing staff is.

But wait!  It gets better!

They decide to do a plethora of tests on me, all standard operating procedure when dealing with heart pain.  I got my chest x-rayed, I got blood drawn (can’t use the IV for that, since it’s for fluids and other junk) for a couple of different blood tests, and I went in for a CT scan to see if I had blood clots anywhere.

This was fun!  The tech for the CT scan started moaning about how the nurse put the wrong type of IV in.  He called her down, whereupon they got into a heated exchange over what was the correct type of tubing to use.  See, when the test is run, the IV has some sort of warm fluid stuff that gets pumped into you so that the scanner can see your circulatory system better.  It apparently needs a bigger tube than the one the nurse insisted was the right size.  Finally, the tech caves and starts the test.  Sure enough, he was right.  The IV blows up and I start having fluid leak all down my arm and I’m shouting at him to stop the test and fix the dang needle.  He calls the nurse back down, and they do yet another IV line, this time on the other arm.  He finishes the test and I get sent back to the ER.  The nurse there is crowing about how she had to educate the young man.  Wha?  Her stupid insistence on using the wrong size tubing made the IV blow out.  How was it he needed educating?

The ER doc sees me briefly and tells me they are going to admit me over night for observation, since my tests are coming back negative and are looking good.  But they want to be sure.  That, and the next day they would like to do a stress test on me, just to be on the safe side, before they send me home.  I figured I would probably be stuck there overnight, so I was already resigned to that.

I get a room, and it’s pretty spacious.  There is a view of a school yard (?) back there, but I never really paid it much attention.  It wasn’t until I got my room that I started to get dehydrated, because they wouldn’t give me any food or water for about half a day until the people in charge knew just what my dietary restrictions were.  And I was getting thirsty, y’all!

The floor nurse checks on my IV, and it won’t flush properly, because the nurse who already gave me one botched IV had put it in the crook of my arm.  She had to take it out.  Then the floor nurse had to give me a new IV.  She also had trouble and I got stuck a couple more times.  Each time I get stuck, I end up with lumps in my arms and giant purple bruises.  I’m a purple dalmation!  Whee!  She finally gave up and put it in my hand (which is where I told her that my last really successful IV had to be put back when I had surgery in my 20′s, because the nurses then had similar problems, but she didn’t want to stick it there).

Despite the IV trouble, the nurses on my floor were all very nice.  They were all fascinated by the fact I was a truck driver out there driving solo.   For one nurse (CNA?), the fact that I was married, with kids, and was still driving really got her thinking! She said she might be looking at a new career and that she was going to have a conversation with her husband, lol.

The nurses explained to me that the attending doctor wouldn’t be in until the next day, and neither would the cardiologist doctor, and both would want to see me.  Fine.  Except that I didn’t see either doctor until after 8pm on Monday night!  At this point I had been on that floor for about 30+ hours.  I was not impressed.  I also was not impressed by the fact that neither one spent more than 2-5 minutes with me.  I was even more pissed, because the cardiologist would ask me questions, and in my mid-answer, would cut me off and ask a different question.  Excuse me?  Do you want to know what I have to say, or what?  How can you give good quality care if you don’t listen to your patients?

The doctors decide they want me to do the stress test.  Um, yeah, that’s what the ER doc said.  Why wasn’t I scheduled for that Monday morning?  The docs decide I will have it done Tuesday morning, since by the time they see me, it is too late.  So I’ve been sitting around all day watching re-runs of Law & Order waiting for the docs to decide to have a test done on me that the ER doc already said I needed to have done?  Ugh.

In the meantime, every 8 hours I was having blood drawn to check my triponin levels and some other test I don’t remember the name of.

The nutritionist comes and talks to me about nutrition, and I get on her case about how for a patient who is supposed to be in here for a potential heart issue, why the heck haven’t they put me on a cardiac diet from the get go?  I had to request it!  And their idea of heart healthy was laughable.  Chicken with the skin on, smothered in salty gravy?  Canned and/or frozen cardboard veggies?  C’mon.  She agreed that the hospital had quite a bit of work to do on their menu, and that it was something they were working on.  By the time we were finished talking, she was pretty convinced I knew what I was doing.

The cardiology nurse comes in and lectures me on my weight and eating and I tell her I lost 60 lbs last year, I walked 1100 miles in 8 months, and I eat heart healthy and have for much of my life because it’s the way my mom taught me to eat.  In addition, since my husband is diabetic and a dialysis patient, we read every label and are very conscientious of what we put in our mouths.  That shut her up.

I can’t remember if it was Sunday or Monday, but a sonogram is done of my chest.  The wand pushing down on my chest hurts like a bejebus.

Tuesday morning comes and goes.  By late morning, they finally wheel me down to get the test done.  Then I have to wait around another hour or so before they can even do the test.  Finally, I get wheeled in and see the cardiologist dude who doesn’t listen.  They put some kind of drug in my IV that caused my heart to race as if I had just been doing strenuous activity, and then gave me another drug to calm my heart the heck down.  Midway through, I’m like, “I don’t like this!  I really really don’t like this!”  They said it would be over soon, but I felt like I was having a heart attack.  There is absolutely no reason why your body’s heart should start pumping willy nilly when there is no accompanying sweating and warmth in your limbs because you’ve been working hard.  To just feel the heart go bonkers is….disconcerting… at best.  I kept breathing deep, trying to calm my heart the bleep down.  At least they were right about it being over soon.  The test itself only took a minute or two.

Because they did the stress test so late in the day, the staff who interpret the results had already gone home.  Which meant I had to wait yet another day before I could get the results.  And I continued to get blood drawn every eight hours.  Oh, and I forgot to mention twice a day, every day, I was getting a blood thinner shot stuck in my belly.  Fun!

Wednesday rolls around and the test results are in.  Finally!  The nurse informs me that I get to go home.  The docs didn’t bother to see me again.  I had to flag the attending doctor down in the hall, when I peeked out there and saw him.  He said the problem I was having was that the muscles on my chest wall (the ones under my pecs attached to the ribs) were inflamed.   Ironically, when I spoke to my dad (who is a dental hygienist) on Sunday, that is EXACTLY what he said the problem was.  Somehow I had done something to irritate them.  All of my tests were great.  My blood pressure was normal, my cholesterol was good, my stress test, EKG, CT scan, sonogram, all that showed my heart to be healthy and happy.  I wish I knew what I had done to hurt those muscles, but I haven’t the foggiest clue.

“So what do I do about my chest pain?” I ask the doc.

“Take ibuprofen if it bothers you.”

Four days of hospital crap, untold bills, lost wages, and I get told that all I need is some ibuprofen for what is essentially a pulled muscle?  Ugh.  You know, I STILL have outlines on my skin from the pads from the heart monitor.  The adhesive on the pads gave me a skin rash.  The rash is gone, but the adhesive and the outline of the pads is still there on my belly.

My family was worried sick about me the whole time.  It was Easter weekend, the Sunday I went to the hospital.  My mom’s family always has an Easter get together.  Micah and Willow and my dad went.  My mom didn’t get to go, since her car broke down.  Somehow at the party, it was slipped that I was in the hospital for chest pain.  My extended family gets all worried about me.  My Aunt Lynda calls my mom, who wasn’t home, and leaves a message saying she heard about me in the hospital, she hopes I’m okay.  Of course, my mom hadn’t heard anything about it, because I hadn’t told her.  I didn’t really want to tell anyone, until I knew whether or not there was something to worry about.  Since most of my tests were done on that first day, I knew my heart was in pretty good shape.  The other stuff was more just a formality.  But my mom hears I’m in the hospital for chest pain and has a freakout, since she has had heart issues herself.

So I have to calm down a pissed of mom who is mad she was kept out of the loop.  She wasn’t.  I wasn’t telling anybody.  I assumed that my husband would keep it to himself, since I had told him that I didn’t want him to tell Willow and get her all worried about me.  “Too late,” he said.  He had already told her and Willow was worried, so I had to try and calm her down.  I didn’t want Willow to worry about me, when she already worries enough about her dad’s health problems.  Anyhow, the word got out at the Easter party anyway, and I had some ‘splainin’ to do.

On the plus side, I learned that my heart is in really great shape and I’ve got no blood clots anywhere, which is good to know.  Truck drivers are known to have problems with blood clots in their legs, since they sit for such long periods of time.

And, while I was in there, I missed out on seeing Bethany, but she offered to take a day off work to come see me if I had to have any procedures done.  So that was pretty cool.

“You don’t have to do that,” I protested.

“Yeah, but your family can’t be out here, so somebody should be with you!”  she said.

God, I love that woman.  She is soooo sweet!  We’ve only been blogging and email buddies and I’ve never even met her in person!  And here she was offering to take time off work to come see me.  I told her no, it wasn’t necessary.  But the next time I manage to get through Ohio, I’m definitely going to look her up.  When I told Micah about what she said, he said, “I love that woman!  Tell her I said I love her.”

I called up my truck company, and they sent somebody out to rescue me pick me up.  Awww, glorious freedom!  I have to say, after that stint in the hospital, I have much more respect and admiration for my husband, who has to go through this stuff regularly.  I can’t imagine what it must be like to have to do this kind of thing–tests upon more tests, needles and more needles–all the dang time.  Dialysis and heart problems suck.  I NEVER EVER EVER want to have to go through that again.

So tomorrow, tune in to hear how my discharge papers that released me back to work are completely disregarded by my company and how I had to take a Greyhound bus from Gary, Indiana to Portland, OR and survived to tell the tale….

Filed under: Life Happens, Trucking Tagged: cardiologist, chest pain, doctor, ER, Health, heart, hospital, Intravenous therapy, nurse, pulled muscles, triponin ]]> http://hollybernabe.wordpress.com/2013/05/19/adventures-with-chest-pain-part-one/feed/ 1 IMG_2246 metamorphingwoman IMG_2246 http://hollybernabe.wordpress.com/2013/05/18/where-ive-been-further-down-us-95/ http://hollybernabe.wordpress.com/2013/05/18/where-ive-been-further-down-us-95/#comments Sat, 18 May 2013 18:00:03 +0000 hollybernabe http://hollybernabe.wordpress.com/?p=3224 Read more]]> It’s amazing the difference a few hours and a couple of hundred miles can make.  Earlier I showed you the pics along US 95 in Idaho.  Here we are in Nevada (and maybe a couple in Oregon), and the scenery is on a completely different level.  Idaho: lush, sunny, green.  Nevada: stark, scrubby, brown, mountainous, rainy.  But both landscapes were beautiful in their own ways.

It’s funny.  Along the route in Nevada, I passed by a giant lake on a Paiute Indian reservation.  I soooo wanted to stop and explore and take pictures, but I had already stopped once that day to take the photos along the river, so I didn’t have time to make another long stop.  And I didn’t even have my camera handy, so I wasn’t able to take photos of the lake itself.  So sad making!  It was beautiful there.

Hello, little guy (girl?)! I’m sorry I almost stepped on you while you were out minding your own business, sunning yourself on the path.

I said I was sorry. No need to stick your black little forked tongue out at me.

This snake really blended into its surroundings, and only because it moved did I notice it and quickly lurch sideways so I could avoid stepping on it.  I instinctively got away from it because I didn’t know if it was a rattlesnake or what.  But on inspecting it from a respectable distance, didn’t find any evidence of rattles.  So I got a little closer and took some photos.  I have no idea what kind of snake it is, but it was about a yard long and about an inch to an inch and a half in diameter in its thickest portions.  It had little rings around its tail, kind of like a raccoon does.

I saw this snake while I was out walking and enjoying the scenery on US 95 in Idaho.  The highway goes down some mountains from Lewiston, ID, where I started driving (7% grade on the downhill, which is challenging in a truck), through some incredible canyons and valleys, and is absolutely gorgeous.  I finally couldn’t stand it anymore and had to get out and do an explore.  I pulled over at the side of the road right next to the river.  There were a couple of gravel roads that weren’t much better than paths, so I wandered down them and snapped a bunch of photos.  Along the path, I came across this snake.  When I got close to the river’s edge, I flushed out some Canadian geese who were extremely indignant that I dared to tread upon their territory.  They took off onto the swiftly flowing river, honking like mad.  They didn’t shut up honking the entire time I was there, even after I went back up the road and was hanging out probably half a mile or more away from them.  I could still hear the echos of their honks!

Across the river was a very nice little sandy beach that I thought would be oh, so nice to have and play on.  Then a bunch of cows came wandering down a steep road cut into the side of a hill, right on down to this pretty little beach and helped themselves to a water break.  While they were doing that, a guy on a catamaran style single-person boat came floating down the river.  There was a bit of white water very close to the beach, and he had to navigate it.  It was quite the comical scene, actually.  This guy, paddling paddling paddling, all the while a bunch of cows are watching him fly by with these curious expressions on their faces.  They stopped what they were doing to witness this crazy human flotsam as it jetsomed right on past (hah!  I made a punny!).

I made sure to take plenty of photos, and the rubber-necker part of me that enjoys the morbid accident scene type thing (c’mon, you know it’s human nature–we all do!), was just waiting for maximum carnage as he crashed on the white water.  I was going to be the person who saved the day, rush down there to rescue him from his predicament, and gain accolades and the key to the nearest city.  Yeah, right.  That water was moving FAST.  By the time I even made it to the water’s edge, the guy would have been swept downstream to the state line or maybe the ocean.  He didn’t crash, of course.  He made it through the little bit of white water just fine.  Really, it’s not like it was a class 4 or 5 rapid or something.  It was pretty innocuous.  Just fast is all.

A gorgeous day, and gorgeous scenery.  I’ve got some other beautiful shots further down US 95 in Nevada and Oregon, and they are 180 degrees different than this lush green landscape.  And, while it was sunny and beautiful here, it was raining in the desert.   All in the same day’s drive.  Go figure.

In Utah and Colorado, the I-70 corridor has some spectacular scenery.  I was driving through there a few weeks or so ago, and was running out of hours, so I stopped at a viewpoint at Early Castle Valley, UT.  Oh.  My.  Goodness.  It was absolutely incredible.  I took several hundred photos.  No joke.  I won’t post them all here, but it’s hard not to.  The views were all so awe inspiring!  I had fun walking around the area, exploring and playing on the rocks and such.  What was even better is that not only did I get to watch the sun go down in this beautiful place, but the next morning I got to watch it come up again.  Unfortunately, the sunset/sunrise pictures didn’t turn out as well as I hoped, as I’m still learning how to deal with low level lighting with my camera.    But suffice it to say, it was awesome!

Again, I played around with my filters, learning how they worked.  So if you see different colors showing through in different photos, that’s probably why.  Though as the sun came down, that affected the color in the photos, as well.

In a few of the photos, I have captured some guys checking out the terrain.  One of the three was a young man out visiting from Germany.  He was totally grokking the scenery.  “Back home, ve have notting like dis.  Is all forest and mountains undt it’s cold.”  He was a cutie.  But he and his buddies were going out on the over-hanging rocks.  Now, you can see from my photos that the wind erodes the rock until there are overhanging shelves.  And some of those shelves collapse.  In one of the photos I’ve got below, you can see a giant slab of rock laying against the cliff.  So I know that stuff breaks off.  To me, it seems very silly to stand on something that could potentially break off and you don’t know when that could ever happen.  I mean, look at that kid Aaron whasisname, who was rock climbing and a big ol’ boulder shifted and crushed his arm and he had to cut off his own arm to get away.  Remember that story?  Well, if these overhangs were to fall, these guys would have plunged to their deaths.  So I made sure to take pictures of them to sell to the guaranteed media circus for posterity, as a way to document their last moments on earth alive.  Fortunately for them (and not for my pocketbook), the rocks did NOT give way, and they probably got to witness even cooler views that I was too chicken smart cautious to try for myself.

I really hope you enjoy the photos as much as I enjoyed taking them.  The photos in no way can even begin to show just how….majestic, beautiful, colorful, and awe-inspiring that place really was.  Words aren’t enough to describe it.

Don’t we look like a chipper bunch?

Being a truck driver means that I’m usually on the truck at least 26 days a month.  But, when I do get home time, my family and I like to try to spend it in good quality family time.  Last time I was home, we drove out to the coast and checked out few different things.

One thing we checked out was an air museum in Tillamook, OR.  That was a lot of fun.  Apparently, the air museum used to be the home of a blimp airfield circa WWII.  The hangars were built to hold 9 blimps a piece.  The blimps were used to patrol the Pacific Coast and watch for Japanese submarines.  There weren’t any blimps at the museum, but there were many many examples of different airplanes, flight simulators (of course Willow had to try out every. single. one.) and lots of other exhibits.  We all got a big kick out of the museum.  The funny thing is, when we first got there, Willow (at eleven years old, she was too cool for some stupid air museum) asked if she could wait out in the car while her daddy and I checked out the museum!  We told her an emphatic no.  And, as it turned out, she had a really great time and she said she was glad we made her come inside. 

We also went to the beach and played out in the sand for a while.  Then we got dinner at a little diner that had the yummiest fried cod, and headed home.

My poor doggie misses me while I’m gone, too.  Last time I was home, he actually climbed onto the bed with me (something he never does) and literally laid partly on top of me and leaned back and put his head on my face and neck.  It was a gesture of “I’ve missed you, Mom, and I’m soooo happy you’re home!”  Especially the arrummph, sound me made as he snuggled up to me.  Definitely a happy dog.

One very happy puppy.

I’ve got a lot of great photos from that day!

Filed under: Life Happens, Trucking Tagged: Aviation, beach, Blimp, Dante, Dog, Family, museum, Pacific Coast, Tillamook, World War II ]]> http://hollybernabe.wordpress.com/2013/05/16/home-time-beach-adventure/feed/ 2 At the beach with the family 056 metamorphingwoman The family Lovey dog 001 IMG_2252 IMG_2258 IMG_2254 IMG_2259 IMG_2262 IMG_2319 IMG_2322 The Mini-Guppy was an airplane we were allowed to go in as its own exhibit, so we could see what the plane was like inside. The Mini-Guppy was HUGE. And yet, it was called the Mini, because there were some that were even larger. Hard to imagine. For a sense of scale, here I am between the rotors of the Mini-Guppy. Willow clowning around. Inside the Mini-Guppy. This latch actually is what would make the plan open in half, almost like a toy. Can you see how the plan was opened and loaded? Weird design, that. Love her smile! We're hanging out outside the cockpit of the Mini-Guppy. IMG_2271 IMG_2273 IMG_2274 IMG_2275 IMG_2277 Inside the museum, Micah checks out a plane called the "Duck" because it was amphibious. The Duck easily causes one's mind to wander into the gutter.... IMG_2294 Willow was super impressed that the museum actually had a Nazi plane on display. She's heard of Nazis and WWII, so it upped the cool factor for her. IMG_2296 IMG_2297 IMG_2298 IMG_2299 Willow was surprised to learn I've actually been on the Goodyear Blimp. This size chart shows the relative sizes of blimps. The blimps that used to be housed here were of the K class. IMG_2301 Super sweet hugs (willingly given) from my eleven year old. I was eating this up! I think she misses me. Aw Aren't we cute in our matching boonie hats? Willow's stylin'. She bought the hat with her own allowance money. At the beach with the family 015 At the beach with the family 011 At the beach with the family 005 The little speck out on the waves is a paddle boarder. Dude must have been crazy. That water was freezing! At the beach with the family 001 http://hollybernabe.wordpress.com/2013/05/13/the-real-problem-with-abercrombie-fitch-how-jeffries-message-hurts-us-all/ http://hollybernabe.wordpress.com/2013/05/13/the-real-problem-with-abercrombie-fitch-how-jeffries-message-hurts-us-all/#comments Mon, 13 May 2013 17:30:52 +0000 hollybernabe http://hollybernabe.wordpress.com/2013/05/13/the-real-problem-with-abercrombie-fitch-how-jeffries-message-hurts-us-all/ Read more]]>

Reblogged from Kristen Lamb's Blog:

I wasn't going to blog at all this week. Have been taking a break and refueling. But when I came in from being away for a week, one of the first articles I saw was regarding Abercrombie & Fitch CEO Michael Jeffries' "marketing campaign" for the preppy clothing line (quoted in the meme above).

Jeffries is being hailed by some marketing experts as a brilliant visionary…

Read more… 1,602 more words

I like some of the rest areas in Wyoming.  They create these little exhibits in them, so when you go to one, it feels like you’re going to a museum.  Not all of them are like that, but certain key rest areas are.  The one on Happy Jack Road (which I absolutely adore, because it is on a road that coincidentally has the same name as my late grandpa–Happy Jack McKerley), which is at the highest summit along all of I-80, is pretty great.  It has a monument to Abraham Lincoln there, a little theater with informative video, and various exhibits to read.

On I-25, at around mile marker 4-ish, there is a rest area and state welcome center.  I really like this one.  It’s got all kinds of fun exhibits about what is great about the state of Wyoming in it.  It even has a replica skeleton of a woolly mammoth inside!  Going to this rest area is pretty much the closest I ever get to being a tourist.  I get to pretend I’m in a museum or something and read all the great exhibits.  I swear, I really do try to modify my schedule and route so that if I’m passing through here, I get to stay the night at this rest area in my truck so that I can go inside in the morning and read more stuff.  I only ever have time to look around a little bit at a time.  One of these days I’ll have finally read everything in there!

But really, the welcome centers of a lot of states have interesting exhibits, too.  Wyoming just has the best one I’ve found so far.  Any of you all know of any really cool rest area/welcome centers like this?  Ones where you can park a semi-truck?  Do tell, because next time I’m through that state, I’ll have to check it out!

My husband and I passed through here back in 2005, when we were trucking together.  I really, really wanted to climb it then, but I was in terrible shape, and I couldn’t get very far.  My heart was willing, but my body wasn’t.  Cut to 2013.  Hah!  I’m in a lot better shape, and my heart was still just as willing.

I swear, every time I see some neat geological feature, or hill or pile of rocks, or fun-looking tree, I feel I MUST climb them.  I think I am still just a kid at heart.  I love the adventure, I love to get out there and just enjoy myself, and for some reason, climbing and exploring the heck out of things gives me the greatest pleasure and satisfaction.  I indulged my inner child’s compulsion to climb to the top of the arch and I took a ton of fabulous photos in the process.

And then, because I managed to do this simple thing that I hadn’t been able to do before, and because it felt so good to be able to do it, it felt so gratifying and….I dunno what all else (an accomplishment?), but because it just made me so very damn happy, I cried.  It seems like such a simple thing, really.  Wilson Arch isn’t that high up and it isn’t too terribly difficult to climb, especially if you’re in shape.  But I did it.  And I couldn’t before.  And it was so beautiful up there.  When I came down finally, my spirit was still soaring up there in the air.  I had a smile on my face for the rest of the day, and whenever I thought of that arch, I got choked up.

So, with all that build-up, I hope you enjoy these photographs as much as I enjoyed taking them.  I think I used the pinkish filter, because I forgot to take it off from earlier.  I would have liked to just use the camera itself, since the arch was fantastically colored in and of itself.  But, oh well.  I got in a hurry, I was so excited to  be climbing the thing, and just forgot.

Oh, and in case you think it is a dumb idea to be galavanting around alone, when I could fall and kill myself while hiking, you are right.  Fortunately, there were several people there, and if I had fallen, there would have been many witnesses and somebody could have alerted the authorities.  If I had been alone, I’m not sure I would have attempted it, since there were some parts that were a little slippery and rocky and places where I could have easily broken an ankle, if I wasn’t careful.  I may have been indulging my inner child, but I didn’t over-indulge her.

By the way, at the top of the rock that says Hole In The Rock, with a giant arrow, has a little black speck on the top toward the right.  If you look carefully, you’ll see that it’s a Jeep.  How on Earth they got it up there, I’ve got no idea.  But it gives you an idea of the scale of the size of that cliff/rock.  As I mentioned yesterday, Hole In The Rock  is a man-made cave that was doubled as this guy’s home and also served as a cafe.  Now it’s just a museum, with all of his weird stuff inside.

Hope you like the following photos.  I sure enjoyed taking them!

I figure I’ll break this up into 3 posts:  one for the trip through Moab, one for the rest area and The Hole In The Wall, and one for the Arch.  Since there are so many photos, I’m going to post them gallery style this time.  Enjoy!