Friday, August 29, 2014

Don't Mess With a Boatswain's Wife
A huge navy boatswain’s mate appeared in the emergency department while I was stationed in Orlando, Florida. He said, “I think I broke my hand.” and held his hand out for me to see.
His hands were large in the first place, but when I looked, the fingers on his right hand looked to be the diameter of sausages or ring bologna. His knuckles were scraped and raw. The back of his hand was edematous and I felt sure that he had to have broken something.
As we got his records and cleaned the scrapes, he told us his story. He said, “I was at the non-commissioned officer’s club, some guy tried to “put the moves” on my wife, so I waited outside until he left the club and asked him, “What the F--- were you trying to do with my wife?
“I didn’t wait for an answer, but punched him in the face. He rolled down into a drainage ditch. I went down after him, grabbed the front of his shirt and held him so I could keep punching him in the head.
“You know, after you punch a guy’s head for a while, something gives a little and it softens, but his head didn’t.
“A couple of guys came down and dragged me off of him. They said, ‘Let go of him. You’re gonna drown him.’ I let go of that dude and they pulled me off and lifted the other guy’s head out of the water. When he came up he was spitting water and gasping for air.
“While I was holding him down and I was pushing his head under water, I was so damned drunk and so damned mad, I didn’t realize that I had been hitting the end of a concrete drainpipe and not his head. No wonder his head didn’t give.”
He gave a small chuckle and looked at his hand. “Just look at this.” Shaking his head, he showed us his hand again.

I was surprised to find out when the x-rays came back, there were no broken bones.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

What’s Up?

I’m not sure why, but it seems like this is rectum month or me. Let me explain. In the past week and a half, I have had three doctor’s appointments. The first was with my PCP, just a routine visit, but I needed blood work.  That was the tip of the iceberg. He told me that I was overdue for another colonoscopy. That’s a word that makes a person jump for joy.
I called and made and made an appointment for the scope for the following Wednesday, today actually. I picked up the dreaded prep for the test on Thursday after my urology appointment. I had been having frequent bouts of urinary tract infections. That was the reason for my first visit to the urology specialists. On the initial visit, I was told I had BPH, an enlargement of the prostate gland which narrows the urethra and doesn’t allow the urine to flow, but it backs up and stagnates in the bladder.
I was put on medications, which has helped. This was a follow-up appointment. I was seeing a young brunette Physician’s Assistant. After the interview and exam, she gave the dreaded instruction, “Drop the pants and bend over the table.” I wasn’t tremendously embarrassed. The first visit I had a lovely blonde PA do the same thing. Also I knew that I was coming. I’ve been a registered nurse for over 35 years. Everything was status quo and I will need an appointment in one year.
Sidebar: While I was there, the nurse taking my vital signs and asking questions and I were talking. I showed her my book, “Tommy Two Shoes” and told her it was a mystery. It was coincidental that Thursday was her mom’s birthday and that her mom loved mysteries. She bought it saying, “I always buy my mom a mystery book and haven’t bought one yet.” She bought a copy from me.

Now, for the real fun; I started the prep yesterday with three laxative pills, little bigger than a grain of mustard seed. Later, I had to drink a large jug of Go-lytely laxative. Adding 850 cc’s of warm tap water and the lemon flavoring to make it more palatable, I stored it in the refrigerator to chill it and not think that I’m drinking water from the Dead Sea. The lemon doesn’t mask the taste well enough to hide the salty flavor. I had to drink 8 ounces every 15 minutes until it was gone. I managed to gulp all but the last glass, but I couldn’t force myself to swallow the last glass. There was no way. I would have hurled.
By the time I was half way through, the desired results started to occur. Each time, it was a race to the commode for an explosive emptying of the bowels. Several times it was close, but no accidents. This lasted all evening and into the early part of the night.
I had a difficult time sleeping. I had a headache and was nauseated from the prep and the pain in my head. I couldn’t find a comfortable place or position to fall asleep. I was limited to Tylenol. I wasn’t able to take aspirin for the test.
My daughter, Anna, went with me to drive me home. It’s over for now. Only one polyp found and removed. My gastroenterologist said, “Make an appointment for next year.”

What a wonderful thought. Something I’ll hate to see come more than my birthday.

Monday, August 25, 2014

Can You shimmy Like My Sister Kate?

When I worked at the hospital, oft times we would share photographs, or stories of family, friends, vacations, etc. When you work elbow to elbow with someone for years, you either become enemies or friends and for me, it was always easier to try and be a friend.

Della was one of the ward clerks in the emergency department. She was always trying new recipes with odd ingredients and was unique. She had been a baker in the armed forces. She met her husband, Barry, while serving our country.  When they got out of the service, they settled in Pennsylvania. He was a weekend warrior on top of his regular job.

She liked to surprise him and she decided to hire a belly dancer for his birthday. The woman was to go to his National Guard office and dance for his birthday. It sounded cool, right.

It all worked out as she planned. The woman came to the headquarters and danced in front of her husband and all of the others who were there. She shimmied and shook, her coins jangling to the music.

When her husband returned home, he was more embarrassed than he was happy. He told Della that the belly dancer did indeed have a belly that shook like Jell-o and did not ripple sensuously like the slender women do, but that wasn’t the worst part, when she smiled, her teeth were green.

This surprise turned around and was like one of those Lucille Ball episodes. Look out Lucy, I think you have competition.

The names have been changed to protect the innocent and to confuse those who aren’t innocent.

Friday, August 22, 2014

Will You Crucify Him?

Pure without denial, Jesus went to trial

Yet the crowd yelled, “Crucify Him.”

Barabbas was set free and of Christ it would be

That the crowd called, “Crucify Him.”


When the scourging was through, they mocked King of the Jew

Crying loudly, “Crucify Him.”

Parading Christ around on the blood coated ground

They led Christ to crucify Him.


From two trials was led, thorny crowd on His head

To mobs calling “Crucify Him.”

Guards cried, “Take up your cross. You’ll not be a great loss.”

And the crowd roared, “Crucify Him.”


A spear thrust in His side, made sure that He had died

In response to “Crucify Him.”

Friends wrapped burial clothes from His head to His toes

After others crucified Him.


A great stone rolled away as He rose the third day

Of whom they cried, “Crucify Him.”

Even tomb couldn’t hold the one prophets foretold

And of men who’d crucify Him.


If you’d been in the crowd with them screaming out loud

To Pilate to “Crucify Him.

And if you, standing there with their calls would you share

With their plot to crucify Him?

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Write or Wrong

I’ve just finished the writing of the second set of stories for the Tommy Two Shoes series. I sent them to my editor for her suggestion and evaluation. Once she reviews it, the hard work starts. I will try to do rewrites and make the changes necessary to make the stories more relevant, grammatically correct, and flow better for an easy read. I love to put my ideas down for others to read, but it can be a long struggle to try and catch all mistakes and typos.
Now that I have sent it off to be proof read, I have been rewriting the memoirs from thirty-four years as a nurse, and the years as a Naval corpsman, and my college days as I studied for my bachelor of science in nursing. I am well over 250 pages and haven’t typed all of my notes as of yet. This has been a labor of love and still on-going. I am not sure if there is a market for it. Only time and my editor will help me determine that.

I have reams of short stories, notebooks of poetry, and tablets filled with my musings. And still the ideas come. I think I need a secretary who can read my writing and the salary is cheap to free. I have thought of buying one of those voice recognition programs that types the words that I say, but I have heard mixed reviews.
Once I am finished with these projects, I will tackle either of three books. One is based on the Bible stories of the fall of Jericho, the marriage of Rahab, the harlot and the lineage of David the king of Israel.
Another book could be a youth Christian novel of several stories following a young girl, her salvation, the salvation of her family, camping trips and friendship.
And the third could be a romance novel of a mean-spirited spinster that finds love through an orphaned young boy. When her heart is opened, she finds that a man who has befriended her over the years has loved her all along.
Above and beyond all of this are the poems of all sorts, but especially those of Christian themes. I hope that someday, someone will find a poem that can be turned into a hymn.

Monday, August 18, 2014

Oops, I missed Friday

I don’t know why, but I missed posting on Friday. I could blame it on old age, because I am getting older, but I did have a lot on mind. Forgetfulness is the reason that I started the blogs. I wanted to write down the stories that I heard of my family so that my kids wouldn’t have to rely on teir memories when I pass on.

Too many things that my dad and mom told me or that I saw were being lost in the bustle of day to day living and to preserve our heritage, we need to write down those stories for later generations. The stories of walking to school in deep snow drifts fighting bears is a bit of an exaggeration, but my dad, his brothers and his sisters did have to walk over a mile to school in all kinds of weather. It was a wooden, one room school and all grades were taught by one teacher.

I want to write as much as I can, because all of my mom’s family had Alzheimer ’s disease and it always something that concerns me.

I have a calendar with dates on it but I don’t look at it and I forget birthdays and anniversaries. I just missed my son and his wife’s eleventh anniversary and I am upset with myself that I missed it. I think I will hang the calendar in front of my computer screen. Maybe that way I will see and remember these things. I have a doctor’s appointment today, and I was thankful that they called last week to remind me. I don’t want to miss one of those. They’d charge me if I didn’t notify them and then I would have a devil of a time making another appointment.

I’m doing penance because I missed Friday’s post and I am doing a double post today. I apologize that I didn’t get a pot out on Friday.

It’s My Party

My daughter, Anna, decided to have some friends and family over to our home for a campfire and mountain pies. She had to work a block of time from Thursday morning until noon on Saturday. That left poor old Dad to straighten up the house, get some of the groceries, and with the help of her boy friend James, we cut and stacked firewood, set up tables and chairs, and moved the fire pit.
When she got home, she did have to wash off the table and chairs, gather the food and supplies, and bring home some ice.
My other daughter came with her husband Eric and their daughter Hannah, bringing the sandwich irons and hot dog skewers. Darrel and his wife Jaimie Johns were the others invited. It was a nearly perfect evening, a few clouds, but a lot of sunshine.
After we said the blessing, we started making mountain pies. Mountain pies are just two pieces of buttered bread with different types of fillings. The buttered bread is placed on the sandwich press, butter side against the metal. The press is made of two hinged, square, shallow cupped pieces of metal on long handles. The press is almost like a George Foreman grill, but made to use in a campfire. The press is placed on the hot coals and the bread is toasted and the fillings warm.
We had several types of fillings. Ham and cheese, pizza sauce, cheese, and pepperoni, as well as several pie fillings for dessert pies. My idea was to try to make a Reuben sandwich. Anna and James really like Reuben sandwiches and I thought, “Why not?”
We used rye bread slices, cut in half so they would fit in the presses. Between the slices, we stacked the corned beef, sauerkraut, Swiss cheese. I forgot to get Russian dressing and had to use Thousand Island dressing instead. I was anxious as my pie baked in the coals. I don’t know if anyone else tried to do a Reuben as a mountain pie or not, so this was an experiment. The pie was delicious and was the hit of the party.
I had almost forgotten how nice it could be to relax around a campfire talking, eating, and relaxing. Thanks to friends and family for reminding me just how much fun it can be.