Thoughts in a Cement Mixer
As I sat trying to urge myself to get out of bed after waking up, thought of what I should write about churned in my head. I should have tried to write something last evening after church, but a combination of low energy and a lack of ideas prevented me from writing. This morning a trailing thought from my dream flowed by. The dream was about me parking my car and walking. It began to snow and I decided to return, but couldn’t find my car. I don’t know what happened then. I woke up. I didn’t want to write about that.
Friday and Saturday I fried sausage at the annual Ohiopyle Pancake, Buckwheat Cake & Sausage festival. Of course my body complained, but there are other men who are the same age or in worse health than me, so I continue to go. This was the 75th anniversary of the festival and I’ve worked nearly fifty of them. My son Andrew and his family and my daughter Anna and her husband came out and we ate together. I saw my dietician Alex who came out with his friends and enjoyed the food as well.
The work of frying sausage isn’t strenuous, but the leaning over the griddles is hard on the back and legs. Each griddle is about eighteen inches deep by twenty-eight inches wide and there are twelve griddles, six on each side. The heat of the first six griddles is kept low, starting the cooking process. The sausage patties are then passed over to the second set of griddles to finish the frying process. Forty-two patties fit tightly on each griddle. The meat patties must be watched carefully so they don’t burn or stick to the surface of the griddles.
The flames beneath the griddles must be monitored or the griddles will get to hot. Sometimes if the air current changes direction or strength, it can quickly affect the flames and the heat. What causes us to return year after year? It’s the camaraderie. It’s the friendships that have developed over the many years. Some friends have passed away, others have filled in, and new bonds have developed.

Breaking Out the Flannels
Now that the days are getting shorter, the nights are becoming longer, and the temperatures are turning cooler, I guess it’s time for me to pull off the cotton percale bed sheets and replace them with the flannel ones that have been stored away all summer. Is it just me or does it feel that we just pulled off the flannel sheets a month ago? Maybe it was a month and a half ago. I know that’s not so because I’ve washed and replaced the cotton sheets more than several times this summer. I can vividly remember hanging them out on the clothes line to dry in the warm sun many times. I can see them billowing out in the breeze, like the sails on a ship.
It’s discouraging to know autumn is fast slipping away and the winter winds and snow will be here before we know it. I’m blest with several sets of flannel sheets, a wood burner, and clothes lines in the basement so I don’t have to dry my sheets outside in the winter like my mom did. I can change the flannels when I need to and not have to dry them in an electric clothes dryer. Tonight I will snuggle down into the warmth of a fresh flannel sheet beneath a thick quilt and a fluffy coverlet.
I haven’t pulled my flannel underwear out yet. The flannel underwear used to be called Dr. Denton’s. They had long sleeves and long legs. The distinguishing characteristic of the Doctor Denton’s was that they had a button-up or a fold-down flap in the rear to allow easy access when going to the bathroom. Long-Johns are similar, but have a fold-over, able-to-button-closed opening. The long-Johns that I have are red. I have both kinds of them as well as underclothing of separate tops and bottom pieces. The flannel drawers will stay folded in a drawer until hunting season, then I’ll pull them out. They’ll be needed when I want to keep warm as I go hunting for venison. It’s always a blessing to stay warm when I try to get and have the extra meat on hand. If I can get another deer this year, I won’t have to go to the store in inclement weather, the meat will be leaner, and I know how the meat was handled.

Old Sew and Sew
I was watching a television program where two veterinarians were doing an operation and were sewing up the incision when they were finished. One vet asked the other whether she remembered the first time she did surgery. Her answer was, “Yes, and I felt so nervous and shaky.”
I tried to think of the first time I ever had to suture a laceration shut when I was a Corpsman in the United States Navy and I couldn’t. I had no recollection of the injury or the wound that needed closure. I do know that it was one aspect that I enjoyed doing and one thing that I was unable to do as a nurse. Each laceration was a challenge. Each wound required me to think of the best way to handle it and sew it closed.
Was it a deep wound that required several layers of suturing? Was there any skin or muscle missing? What was the age of the person? Did the wound need extensive cleaning? Were there any skin tabs that needed to be trimmed to make a smooth closure? What kind of suture material did I need? Would I need help?
In the emergency department at the Naval Training Center in Orlando, Florida there was always a physician on duty who often checked the wound before the repair and after to insure that proper procedure was followed and the wound was closed correctly. The only time the physician was required to do the repair was when it was on the face or hand of a woman for cosmetic reasons.
Often physicians would use a “papoose board” to restrain youngsters while they sutured them. It was a flat board with adjustable straps to keep the child from moving during the procedure. Many times I was able to talk and explain what was going to happen and didn’t have to fasten the kid down. I enjoyed that.
One case I remember that was too severe and I was not comfortable to handle was a long deep cut. A Man tried to jump over a hurricane fence and made a deep gash in his forearm. I didn’t want to tackle it. I asked the emergency room doctor to have a look at it. He smugly said, “Finally found one you couldn’t handle?”
When I lifted the bandage, he said, “Put a moist dressing on it and call the surgeon on call.”

 OOPS, So Sorry
Awhile back I made a post that one of my readers found offensive. It was never meant to stir up trouble or to cause distress. It was an inadvertent reference that was written in my usual exaggerated style to draw readers to my post. It was meant to be done in an exuberant, showy manner to catch a reader’s eye. It was not to sling slurs nor was it meant to upset anyone, especially my readers. If I could withdraw that post, I most certainly would. In my writings, I try not to offend anyone. I try to write what is happening to me, my past, or my family’s history. I will try to be more cautious and more selective in my wording and the intent behind my posts.
To my reader that became offended by my posting, I am truly sorry that I caused you any distress or ill feelings. It upsets me that I caused any type of insult or hurt. It was never meant to be that. It was only to add drama to a shared story. I humbly regret any concern you had with my writings.
It is difficult for me to think of new ideas and to compose a different story. There is only so much I am able to dredge up from my past. Sometimes I rewrite something I’ve shared before, but I don’t like to do that very often. Sometimes I stray when I write, and I am overcome with my own sense of warped humor and I believe that’s what gets me into trouble. I will try to curtail my playing with words, sticking to the facts. My posts may be a bit drier, but hopefully I won’t offend anyone else Again I must apologize to anyone that I have upset and ask for forgiveness. I’m not sure the person will read this post, but I do hope that I have the chance to apologize.
I’m crushed. I found out that I unintentionally also broke a trust. I am sick to my stomach. Trust is not easily gained. It’s a fragile thing. Once it has been broken it is almost impossible to repair. Where do I go now and what do I do to try to make amends. I know that it will never be the same. There will always be scars to mark the breach. All I can do is to try to remain a friend in days ahead. Again I am so very sorry.

All the World’s a Stage
William Shakespeare said all the world was a stage and the people in it actors, but I think that some people act more like characters. Some who would arrive at the emergency department were called “frequent flyers.” They were repeat visitors; some as drug seekers, some were actually sick, while others wanted to be the center of interest and then there were those who were just lonely.
We had a married couple who didn’t quite fall into any of these categories, but straddled several. They came close to being frequent flyers. I think they came just because they could come to the hospital and not have to pay for it. We named them Prince Charles and Princess Dianna. Charles and Dianna were their real names.
The closest thing to having a royal escort occurred when Charles came in by ambulance one night accompanied by medical attendants. Charles and Dianna carried Pennsylvania’s yellow public assistance gold card. You’ve heard the commercial, “It’s the gold card, don’t leave home without it” and this couple never did.
Before anybody complains about my comment I just want to say there are people who are unable to work due to a disability and SHOULD have assistance. But there are those people who are able bodied and intelligent who should NOT be eligible.
I feel that Charles was one of the latter. He was intelligent and if he can have sex he’s able bodied enough to find a job. At an earlier visit he told me in the triage area, ‘I was teaching the old lady how to play chess tonight before we came in.” He had to have some smarts to play chess, right.
So, let me get back to the story. Charles was brought in by ambulance. As he was moved onto our bed, I noticed that under him was one of the dirtiest, filthiest, stained sheets I’ve ever seen and he was completely naked.  The spots were not the pattern of the sheet. He explained that he and his wife were having sex when his “back went out.”
He was given x-rays, medicated, and discharged. We gave him a pair of pajama bottoms because he’d arrived “au naturale” and a patient gown to wear home. He was to bring them back. I doubt that he did. We probably doubled his wardrobe.
He and Dianna had hardly disappeared through the exit door when she came rushing back into the emergency room calling, “Where’s my sheet? Where’s my sheet? I need to put it back on the bed when we get home.”
We nurses looked at each other thinking the same thought. “Who’d put that filthy thing back onto the bed?” We shrugged, gloved up and dug through the dirty linen bag to find her sheet, giving it back inside of a plastic bag.

Hell…? Yes!
Is there a place called Hell? Yes, the Bible clearly states that as a fact. It was initially created for Lucifer and the other angels that tried to rebel against God. It was never designed for man, but Satan managed to get some people to follow him. But before you say, “Why would a loving God send people to Hell, let me say this. If a person owed a huge debt that he could not pay and someone out of the goodness of his heart offered to pay the full price of that debt and the debtor refused to accept the money, whose fault would it be? Would it be the gracious person who offered to accept the unpaid bill or would it be the person who refused to allow the debt to be paid on his behalf? Would the debtor blame the attempted benefactor?
Hell is a real place. It is a place of darkness where there is no light. It is a place of extreme heat and thirst. It is so hot the flames give off no light, a place where the plea for even a drop of water will go unanswered because there is none to be offered. Hell is also a place of extreme torment. It’s a place where there is constant pain, where the gnawing of the worm never ends. The nose will be constantly assaulted by the smell of sulfur smoke and brimstone without relief. The person in Hell will never have rest for eternity. Lost souls will be cast into that lake of fire where the beast, the false prophet, and Satan himself shall be tormented day and night forever and ever.
If there was a fire in a neighbor’s house wouldn’t you want them to escape the danger and flames? If you saw smoke and fire in a house that you knew was occupied, wouldn’t you pound on the door to alert those inside of the danger? If you were in a place where people were gathered and smelled smoke and saw flames, wouldn’t you shout a warning, even though they were strangers?
Isn’t that the same reason Christians share the Gospel message? Wouldn’t you want someone to offer a way to escape Hell? Don’t you want someone to share the message of a Redeemer who’s already paid the great debt that they could not pay with a neighbor, friend, or relative? Are you willing to give the Good News of a Savior with someone who has not yet accepted the free gift of Salvation?

 The Three Wise Guys
I shared a story about my brother Kenneth Beck who called the Three Wise Men, the Three Wise Guys from his Sunday school lesson with the Evangelist Thomas Engle. The amusing thing was that he entitled the Sunday school lesson this morning. His three wise men weren’t the Magi who visited Bethlehem at the birth of Jesus the Messiah. He taught a lesson from Daniel and the three men who refused to bow down to the golden image that King Nebuchadnezzar erected in his likeness and tried to compel all of his subjects to worship his image as if it was a god.
Many of the subjects in Babylon at that time were captives from surrounding countries. He took only the educated elite to improve his subjects. He made every attempt to sever the roots of these foreigners from their home country, traditions, and their religion. Cause confusion. Separate them from the familiar and cause them to cling to the imposed ideas and laws.
Three of the captive Jews Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego early in their captivity resolved not to worship the Babylonian gods, but now the King commanded that all his subjects were to bow down and worship the image that he’d erected. This crossed the line. They were being commanded to worship a god and not God. They had to decide to take a stand or to go with the crowd even though they knew it was wrong, against God’s commands.
They had faith in the Jehovah the one true God and refused to bow down to an idol of the King Nebuchadnezzar. When King Nebuchadnezzar told them to bow down or he would cast them into a burning furnace to die for their insolence. The faith in God did not waiver.
King Nebuchadnezzar was filled with fury and commanded the furnace to be stoked to seven times the normal heat. He commanded the mightiest men in his army to bind and cast Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego into the flames. The furnace was so hot the heat killed the men who threw them into the fire.
The king watched in amazement when he saw four men walking unbound and unharmed inside of the furnace. They had no hurt. He called to them come out saying, “Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, ye servants of the most high God.”
It sets a standard for people of God. When the government crosses the line and tries to force anything that goes against the Word of God, it is necessary for Christians to take a stand or follow other sheep. We must do right with the right attitude. Be resolved that when decisions need made, we will stand firm. Nonviolent resistance and non-compliance may be our first choice.