J and I traveled the gravely, rutted road for one mile once we got off the highway and then we were there--Seneca Lake Resort--which was 300 lots filled with 300 trailers. This time was the first for me since my stroke 6 years ago that I agreed to go. It was a gargantuan step that took me out of my comfort zone of television, writing, and exercising in my own apartment. I was ready for the challenge.
As we pulled up to her trailer house, J had an addition--an attached, screened-in porch as do some of the people, and some people have ongoing projects--an extra bathroom in progress, a built-out kitchen soon to be completed, an almost expanded bedroom. And some people only have the original trailer. But all of the people enjoy camping. I mean, really enjoy camping.
I can't expect anybody who hasn't experienced a stroke to know, at exactly the point of our arrival, what dangers lie ahead. I hadn't fallen