I Almost Drove Away in My Dream

I brought Nicky to Camping World with me, because of course I did.

She’s not just my dog — she’s my emotional support cannonball.

And if we’re shopping for our future, she gets a vote.

We met our salesman, Mike — a kind, patient, golden-retriever-in-human-form who actually listened. He made it fun. Safe. Even a little magical. He had that rare gift of believing in your dream without trying to sell it to you.

And this was the dream.

Not just a vehicle. Not just a vacation plan.

My home.

My mobility.

My freedom.

The way to see the world and get to the Mayo Clinic — the one place that might actually help me, with doctors who specialize in cases like mine.

This wasn’t luxury. This wasn’t fantasy.

This was possibility.

For healing. For independence. For life.

I wanted my dad to come with me.

To walk through the lot and say, “That’s a good one, Dana.”

To look at me and see what I see: this is everything.

But he wasn’t there. And I still had to choose.

At first, I thought I wanted a van. Sleek. Compact. Reasonable.

But then I looked down at Nicky — my growing, bouncing, chaos wolf of love — and I just knew:

There’s no way we’ll both fit in there happily.

So we found it.

A Class C RV called The Freedom.

Can you believe that? That’s what it was actually called.

The second I stepped inside, it felt right.

Not like a showroom. Not like a stranger’s RV.

Like home.

I was nervous about driving it — terrified, actually.

But Mike believed in me.

And the minute I pulled it out of the lot, something clicked.

It felt like driving a pickup.

It felt like I could do this.

And I did everything right.

I applied.

I negotiated.

I got the warrenty negotiated into the deal.

I paid six months of insurance up front.

I believed in this so hard I could see us — me and Nicky — parked on a cliff in Utah or chasing sunsets in New Mexico or sipping coffee in the Mayo Clinic parking lot knowing help was just steps away.

And then one person…

One person said no.

And just like that, I’m not driving away today.

I’m not smiling.

I’m crying.

Because I got so close.

But you know what?

I’m still trying.

I’m not letting this dream go.

Not today. Not ever.

Because this wasn’t just a purchase.

This was a declaration.

That I want to live.

That I want to go.

That I believe I can have a life that holds beauty and health and art and joy — even with all the hard stuff.

So maybe today ends in tears.

But that RV?

That freedom?

She’s still waiting for me.

And Nicky? She still fits perfectly in the passenger seat.

With Love,

Dana & Nicky