In Memory Of

Somewhere, there are the bones of thousands of soldiers that were never accounted for. How they died is unknown, and all that is left is the memories of those that lost a family member; and as time goes on, the memories fade. Few remember the bright, promising young man that left in 1943 to Europe, or the Pacific, and never returned. His peers are all gone, and any children are now grandparents, or great-grandparents. 

This is the day we remember all that never came home. For those that encounter someone that doesn't have a clue about his day, educate them. They enjoy their barbeque, or cold beer, and don't know the significance of the day that is for remembering those that died so they could be free.  

After the Procedure

After 40 hours with only little Jell-O in my system, almost a gallon of water mixed with a witches-brew of glycols, with salts, my colonoscopy is over. I was supposed to drink the entire gallon, but I had to quit at around the last sixteen ounces. The stuff is brutal to drink, regardless of what anyone tells you. I did learn from a nurse that there is another way, which uses over the counter laxatives and water. She said it yields the same results, and is approved by the doctor that performed my colonoscopy. That's a good thing. 

The prep was a little different than the last procedure. One week stop on some medications, (blood thinners and such) three days without seeds, vegetables, and anything that is slow leaving the colon; one day clear liquids only; and a start at 4:00 pm with the prep liquid. Eight ounces every thirty minutes until the first half gallon is gone. Repeat the procedure starting at 10:00 pm, which leads to prepping to 1:30 am, and draining over the next few hours. With my 8:00 show up time, that left time for a cat-nap.

The results were good. No polyps, some diverticulosis (an inherited things according to the doctor) and a 7 year respite until the next procedure. That was welcome news, and according to the photos provided by the doctor, my colon is as shiny as a new car. I'm impressed. Then again, it was power washed twice in the last twelve hours before the procedure. As I told my wife before the second half: "The wash is over, but now it's time for the rinse cycle."

So it's over, I'm happy with the results, and with my calcium scan two weeks ago, I'm in good health for now. That test revealed no plaque in my heart, and a zero risk of heart disease. I'll take both, continue my bastardized health regimen, and go on as best as I can. The good lord has taken me this far for a reason, and it's up to me to continue.

Dealing With a Water Pump

We had a large project that took years to complete. We were a subcontractor, but even subcontractors had to list someone with TxDot as the supervisor. That was my job, and it meant more than one crew, and multiple locations. 

During the project, I would shift people to overcome downtime due to rain, and to pump water from an excavation. That's where Bob came in. 

We had a headwall for a box culvert partially completed. The footing was poured, but the walls weren't formed. I took Bob to the locations, with a water pump, which we placed near the excavation, and he connected to hoses already in place. I left a can of gasoline, and some oil, and went to check on another crew. 

After over an hour, I needed to go check on Bob, and see if the water was pumped down below the footing. It usually took about an hour, and if everything was as it was supposed to be, I could place some hands on site to start tying the reinforcing rod for the walls. Everything wasn't as it was supposed to be. 

I found Bob pulling on the pull rope, and trying to start the pump. Exhausted wasn't a good description. It was Summer, his face was red, and his pulls on the rope showed he was out of steam. 

I asked Bob if he ever had the pump running. I pretty well knew he hadn't. The water was still at the same level as when I left over an hour before. He told me it wouldn't start. 

"Does is have gas?"

"Yes. I filled the tank."

"Did you check the oil?"

Bob got that look where you already know the answer.

He immediately checked the oil, and found it was a little low Since he had put a short 2 x 4 under the pump to keep it from sinking, it had placed the pump a little out of level, and the low-oil shut-off had prevented the pump from starting.

Within a minute, we had added a little oil, leveled the pump, made sure the pump was primed, and the water was soon dropping in the excavation.

So, we lost an hour, and after that, Bob pretty well knew to check the oil before attempting to start a small engine. He already knew that, but for some reason, Bob wasn't really there that morning. That would happen every now and then, but usually he was a good hand, and was good to have on a crew.

 

They Moved My Appointment

My new appointment time for my colonoscopy is Monday the 18th at 8:00 am show-up time. It's a new place for me, but the doctor has the same name as a gastroenterologist that treated me during my gall-bladder fiasco in 2009. Maybe it's the same doctor, but I don't think so. He looks too young, so I have the feeling he's following in his father's footsteps to peer into the colons of patients. 

I will have to drink a gallon of a liquid that remarkably tastes like what I envision as the taste of battery acid. Truthfully, at the end of the gallon, I will probably again have the feeling I did drink a gallon of battery acid. I've done this before, and from what I've heard, the pills that do the same thing are not being used any longer due to incomplete cleaning. So, it's a gallon of liquid split over hours of sitting, and cleansing. 

Thinking about this, I remember a Dave Berry column about his procedure. Here it is for you enjoyment. 

Link

F.O.D.

I knew someone that was in the Naval Reserve years ago. He would have a two week duty every year, and his specialty was working on jet engines. Sometimes part of the engine would come in enclosed, with F.O.D. written on the enclosure. This meant "foreign object damage", and would detail the cause, such as rocks, or birds or one that caught their attention: "Human F.O.D. That one wasn't repaired. The odor was enough to ensure it was considered unsalvageable, and it was disposed of. 

Apparently, someone snuck onto a Denver runway, and a commercial jet sucked them into the engine, which caused it to explode, and a subsequent fire caused the occupants to be evacuated on the runway. I call it death by jet, and wonder what was on the mind of the unfortunate victim. I'm sure the engine will be replaced, and what's not salvageable disposed of. 

I saw a video of the accident. The person climbed a fence, sauntered out onto the runway, and directly in front of the starboard engine when the video ended. It was as though they were oblivious to where they were. Maybe so. The jet would have been traveling at near 200 mph, and someone not aware of their surroundings would have only moments to get out of the way.