All,

Sitemeter tells me people still visit this site. Probably from a sense of nostalgia, and I thank all of you for checking in here from time to time.

I’m working a lot of shifts, going to a lot of meetings, and still trying to have a semblance of a life. This leaves no time for original writing here.

The meetings: our Gigantic Corporate Overlord has graciously agreed to part with a Princely Sum of Cash, and in March we break ground on a new ED. Nice! (Figures off the top of my head: currently we have about 96 beds in 24K sq. feet and see 96K/yr, and we’re going to 81 rooms and 48K sq. ft.).

In case you missed that, we’re not scheduled to get the same number of beds as rooms, but a bunch of our current beds are hall beds. I hate hall beds. And, many of the new rooms are to be designed to ‘double up’ so we can put 2 beds in 1 treatment room, so we’re going to net more than we have now.

Additionally, 2 CT’s, an MRI, and 24 hour sono. And a designed environment rather than the hodgepodge of assumed spaces we currently have. (When I describe our current condition it sounds like I’m down on it, but I’m not. It’s functional. And our staff is terrific. Fortunately they’re going to make the move too)!

Bizarrely, I am one of three docs to work with the team that engages the architects, and it’s a fun if time consuming process. It’s fun to play ‘what if’ with these differently trained pros, and I feel like the time I’m spending there is worthwhile. I get to help design the ED I hope to retire in, and not many get to say that.

And did I mention we’re remodeling the kitchen in the homestead? No? We (had) a mostly original 1986 kitchen that was awesome 10 years ago when we moved in, but now is worn and dated. Well, was. Now it’s torn out to the walls. Our former bulkheads (fir-downs in Texas) were pulled out so we can go all the way to the ceiling, but they contained a lot of wires and plumbing (which are being moved).  It’s very expensive entertainment watching the trades do their thing, and a tiny part of me wants to be one of them. Yes, my brain, thanks…

Speaking of the trades, the electricians liked our garden trolls, and decided they needed to be fed. Heh.

More to come.

So, I started with this (actually happened):

I (well my friend) accidentally pulled his truck and laden trailer over your yard last night.

I very sincerely apologize for this. I will gladly repair any sprinkler system damage, or other damage to the lawn.

I do not anticipate this ever happening again. Both my wife I value your friendship and your being better neighbors than I am.

Apologies. Please let me know what needs repair.

I got this back:
Read the rest of this entry »

I have a few things I really like. Vacation trips to SoCal (nearly always to Disneyland), silly and trivial but fun events there, and a nearly Holy Grail trip to In-N-Out Burger are some of my favorites. I’m easy to please, really. Attainable fun and gastronomic happiness in one trip. Bliss.

(I’m not an expert on pleasure. I’m the weirdest extrovert you’ll meet, in that I will include everyone very happily in my public life, and by that I mean I have a blog, I tell people about all the superficial things in my life (I just had my pond filled in, and I have bored everyone at work with that), I’ve blogged a lot of things people know about, and I keep my private life and friends private. You might be surprised that things happen I don’t blog. You might not. It depends on what you know of me.)

Therefore, things I like I tend to Really Like. This explains why I go to the same places for fun. I’m sure there’s a psychological problem/answer there.

As if by magic, one of the forbidden SoCal-only objects has been deposited in my world: In-N-Out has come to Mohammed. (I’m not Mohammed, it’s a metaphor, no bombings please). My anticipation, thrill really, was shared by the family. To say we’ve followed the construction and timeline of this Parthenon of Patties would be an understatement. Never in the history of our collective, extended family has one fast food joint focused our attention so meatily.

I had the Forbidden Burger tonight! And, it was a burger. Away from its normal surroundings, the pseudo-exotic locale, it was a decent burger, average fries, and a good milkshake. (My choice is not for the calorie conscious).

I felt like I finally had a date with the Prom Queen and found out she’s a shallow, dumb person who also isn’t into me. (I’m not personalizing this intentionally, except it’s personal). I could taste the disappointment. Pun intended.

My title isn’t quite right. I wanted it, I got it, and the failure was mine. It was a good burger, perfectly adequate, served with a smile, and as close in taste as a 1,500 mile breach can be. It’s that it wasn’t eaten There, in The Place. And therefore it wasn’t right. Dang it.

Now I’ve diminished something I liked, a lot, and have learned the big lesson. Don’t screw up the things you like, and where you like things is a huge component as to why they’re liked.

I’ve lost something I’ve loved, and now at best I can like it again, in its rightful place, someday. Context matters.

That would have been a better title. I just had to work through it.

About a month ago I bought a micro-tractor to have around the micro homestead, which is a lot of fun. (It’s a Kubota BX25, which I’d link to but their site is apparently Flash based, and therefore stinks and is unlinkable).

So, a little tiny tractor with a tiny loader and backhoe. It’s stupidly fun. I had no idea digging things with a backhoe would be so satisfying. I’m not going to give up the day job to do it, but it’s really a barrel of monkeys.

Apparently part of having a tractor is the parts/accessorizing (yes, I concur that accessorizing is probably the wrong word for a macho tractor, but I’m new to this, remember)? So, I have bought bucket hooks and a light kit for it, from BXpanded, and they’re the object of this praise.

I tried the bucket hooks a week or so ago, and they didn’t fit as smoothly as the YouTube video made it look, so I sent them an email, and I got a response within an hour. On a Saturday afternoon. With an apology for taking an hour, as he had been mowing his lawn. Also, his advice worked perfectly.

So, great, one incident, one good outcome.

Then today, another problem. Their light kit looks terrific and went on well, but I couldn’t find the work light wires on the tractor. They’re on the wiring diagram, but I couldn’t find the wires. I called the dealer that sold it to me, and their service department gave me the wrong answer (‘it’s the power outlet’), so they proved their worth. Inexplicably I sent an email to the BXpanded folks, and then bothered to look on the innernut.

Yes the answer was there, and I hooked their nice kit up, and of course it worked. And as I parked the tractor there was a voice mail on my phone. (My sig line on emails from the phone has my cellphone number in it). It was the BXpanded fellow, who wanted to help me find the wires.

Yeah, the BXpanded guy called me to help, though I only sent an email asking for a general hint. It doesn’t get any better than that. And, the lights helped me a bunch tonight while using the backhoe.

So, BXpanded.com, recommended highly.

There is a minor downside to having a micro-tractor: My wife has taken to calling me Mr. Douglas. Yeah.

I can’t imagine why:

Yeah, Africa Hot. But worse, except not in Africa. So, better! What’s the problem?

Bob’s my son, and today most of the family got to witness his swearing into the Texas Bar by the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court (along with about 400 new colleagues). It was a good, brief ceremony, and as we didn’t get to see him graduate from Law School this was our Graduation event for him.

Afterward we had a nice lunch, and I beat the odds by driving home without my mother in law giving me driving tips.

Life is good!

It’s a bad economy and a poor employment situation, especially for lawyers. It has been for a couple of years, but for my son the drought has broken, at least temporarily. A job! In law! And in Fort Worth.

The job does not pay a ton of money, and since law firms aren’t stupid it’s for a ‘trial period’ (pardon the pun), but it’ll get him some experience, some income, and get him some contacts in their world. So, winning!

Kudos to Bob!

I had little doubt as he’d already passed the Florida Bar, but today he got his Texas results.

We’re as proud of him as we can be. Now, about that legal job you have waiting for him…

Dear Mom and Dad,
thanks for not throttling me when I deserved it, and for letting me find myself. I literally wouldn’t be where I am today without you.

It’s our (your Sons and our families’) pleasure to help celebrate your Marriage.

Happy 50th Aniversary!

Our family is odd.  Avert your eyes if the idea of a family joke is too harsh for your gentle retinas.

So, tonight came not only the Winter Solstice but additionally a lunar eclipse.  Astronomic fun.  Not enough fun for the family.

The responsible party will rename anonymous, but it was decided: Darling Daughter (DD) will be brought to believe the following:

• the solstice and eclipse are tonight (true)
• the eclipse is visible with the naked eye (true)
• doing so is dangerous due to the excess of UV rays bouncing off the moon during the eclipse (false)
• viewing the eclipse is made safer for the eyes by wearing sunglasses (false but funny).

A comically large cardboard box with a pinhole in it (to be worn on the head) was initially thought to to be the tease, but was eventually discarded for the more practicable sunglasses.

DD was initially very hesitant to believe, but the other four of us, wearing our sunglasses, proved too much even for her highly developed skepticism.  So, she happily donned her shades, and we all watched the lunar eclipse together.

At some point, a photograph was in order (we were in on it, that’s why we’re shadeless):

Live long, and prosper.

About 5 minutes after this we let her off the hook, but not before the pic.

Showing good sport, DD insisted I blog this as “It’s really funny.  Mean, but funny”.

Nobody loves you more, sweetie.  Thanks for playing along with us.

Yes, he’s my brother, the smart one. Here he gives an interview to GoRacing TV (new to me) about his book, and why you should definitely buy one for Christmas. Oaky, he didn’t say that, but it’d make an appreciated gift to an aspirng racer…

The interview starts at 1:10

The book can be ordered through the web site or through Amazon. (I get nothing from the book sales except satisfaction that my brother the Aerospace Genius has achieved his career dreams).

My wife said tonight “We need to diversify”.

I pointed out we maintain several calibers…

She didn’t answer.

Did I say something wrong?

So, I was going to get an MRI of my shoulder (no worries, minor problem).

This started with the expert placement of contrast into my shoulder under flouroscopy (and Conray tastes like magnesium). Yes, you can taste the contrast even though it’s injected elsewhere in the body. (Conray was so the radiologist knew where the gadolinium was going, for better delineation of the shoulder structures for the radiologist).

Then comes the MRI.  Never had one, but I’ve ordered several.  I’m wearing my very fashionable gown, lie down and the two nice techs start getting me ready.  I got some sort of contraption put over the shoulder that plugs into the table (pretty cool), get bolstered into place so I can’t wiggle, and some headphones playing classic rock.

They gave me a little black bulb ‘to squeeze if there’s a problem’.  I thought that was amusing.  All this happened out in the open, and life was good.

Then came the tunnel, and the first thing I thought of, looking at the fiberglass tunnel lining with two light strips embedded in it was HAL from 2001, which is weird.  Then I realized my heart rate was up, my hands and feet were sweating.

“Wow, this isn’t going to happen to me, is it?” was the higher-brain function; ‘get me the heck outta here’ was what my midbrain was yelling.  I’m a rational guy, so I can think my way through this.

Just by putting my chin on my chest I can clearly see I’m out of the tunnel from the knees down, I can see the control room windows, I could relatively easily wriggle out.  “Not. Having. It.” sayeth the midbrain, and by this time the lower functions have decided to side with the midbrain, now I’m starting to hyperventilate, a little, and the upper brain had a realization that’s never happened before: “You’re not going to reason yourself through this, and you’re going to have a full on panic attack if you don’t get out of this tunnel”.  Doesn’t matter I’ve never had one, if it’s imminent you know it.

That amusing little black squeeze bulb then got a touch of a workout.  Quicker than I would have expected “Yes?”  Surprisingly calmly I said “I need to get out of this tunnel Right Now”.  Not being slow, and having seen this a million times before (they said later) the tray of doom began moving me out of the tunnel.

When I got out I was shaky, hands and feet dehydrating me involuntarily, and the relief to be Out Of There was palpable.  I was effusively apologetic (I think I apologized to the tunnel and the door as well as both techs, several times).  They were very nice, said not only was I not the first, I wasn’t the first today.  One offered to stand at the bedside and talk to me during the procedure, but I was pretty sure I’d shot my chance for the day, and declined, apologized my way out the door, and went home.  Humiliated.  I’m a middle aged man, a doctor, I knew what this would be like, and it went almost as poorly as it possibly could.

I had no idea this was even possible for me.  I’ve worn all kinds of restrictive masks/headgear, been in several spots tighter than that, etc.  No reason to think my brain would stage a tunnel coup.

I’ll also say I now have more empathy for those who tell me they’re claustrophobic in the MRI tunnel (I have ordered sedation liberally before, and will continue to).  But, I always thought, in the back of my head, ‘what’s up with that?’, and now I now.  In spades.

So, I’m going to have to reschedule and repeat the thing, but this time I’m going to have some sedation.  It’s not for me, it’s for my midbrain.  Seems a little nervous about the tunnel of noise.

On 9-11-2001, when the first tower was struck, I was dead asleep, comfortably. I was halfway through the second month in my new job, right out of residency. I’d worked the 7p-7a on Sept 10th, and it was just another day.

My wife woke me up, as when she’d gotten home from the school run she’d turned on the TV and heard about the first plane. “A plane has hit one of the World Trade Center towers, you need to see this” is what I recall her saying, and even though I was about 45 minutes into sleep I thought ‘it has to be a light plane, bad weather, somebody trying to run VFR’, etc. But, I got up.

That’s why I was watching TV when the second plane hit the second tower. It wasn’t a mistake.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I thought about myself briefly. I was still in the Inactive Reserve then and had joked, until that moment, that “it’d take an Act of Congress to bring me back to active duty”, and I immediately realized Congress was going to be ready to do a lot of things in response to this attack.

And then, I had exactly the same response as everyone else who didn’t lose a loved one: shock, anger, disbelief.  Amusement at the line of people at the gas station in Midland, and wondering what the future would bring.  Sadness a the loss of life in the planes, the first responders, in the buildings.  Senseless loss and death brought to us by barbarians who hate us.

I’m quite disappointed in the TSA security theater when I fly today, unhappy that the `100% bag matching’ doesn’t work, and sad that we’re all inured to the realization this is the best our government can do, or has the will to do.

Prayers for the dead, and those who lost.  Respect and Love for those who defend us, and hope we’ve learned enough to prevent a recurrence.

I was having my occasional glass of red wine with dinner (it’s AMA approved, and possibly cardioprotective, plus, I like it), having a conversation with my grandson, who’s 10ish.  (I don’t now his exact age; I’m not one of Those grandparents, and to be fair, I wasn’t one of those parents, either).

Just to have some fun with him, because I figured he’d think it was silly, I decided to start spelling some words when chatting with my wife at the table.  As in “I think if I s p e l l some words h e won’t be a b l e to understand what w e are saying”.

“I can’t keep up, you spell too fast” was not the response I thought I’d get and …see title.

Fun having family visit.  I need to help him with his spelling, though.