by Shell Martin

Created on: December 11, 2008   Last Updated: March 08, 2010

THE HORROR TRIP

It is the summer of 1998 and life is not what it should be. Our infant has been in the hospital from practically the day he was born. That was in November and it is now August. My husband's grandma is dying of cancer. Grandma does not want a funeral but would rather have one last family reunion that she can remember. The whole family agrees that this will be a celebration of life and not a sad time.

We have a couple of issues though. First, our son is in the hospital hooked up to tubes, wires, and an IV delivers powerful antibiotics directly to his heart. He is not even a year old. There is no way we can go to a family reunion without him. We have never been away from him.

The second issue is that the reunion is in Colorado and we live in Washington State. We are not rich, the baby's medical condition and hospitalization has taken its toll, but we have to find a way to go.

We have a little money; enough we think to make it there and back but not much more. We beg and plead with the doctors to help us find a way to take our son with us. Finally, the doctors agree and we work out a way to store his medication, which has to be kept refrigerated and take him with us.

We have our 1976 Chevy Suburban checked out and okayed by the mechanic. There had been a tiny radiator leak and he fixed it. We pack up and head out. It is August and it is hot. We decide to go through Idaho and then down through Utah and Wyoming. We make it as far as Spokane and the Suburban starts leaking fluid. So we put "Stop leak" in the radiator and a quart of oil in the engine and decide to keep going.

We were not making good time and we begin our drive south through Idaho as night is falling. It is dark and foggy and we are driving along a river. We have slowed to about 25 mph. It is taking hours on this leg of the journey. At least the children are asleep. We pass a small town and the fog is beginning to lift. We pick up speed a little. There are two cats fighting on the side of the road, I see them and swerve. I miss the first one but the back tire thuds over the second one. I am devastated. I have never hit anything before and I am a huge cat person. The cat is still alive and I am freaking out. We drive back to the little town and as my husband is inquiring if there is a vet, the cat pukes up blood and dies in my arms, as the four kids are plastered to the truck windows watching. This is just great. Dave wraps the cat in a garbage bag and disposes of it. The next day, our

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