Sunday, June 18, 2006

Father's Day

Father's Day Where would I be without my father. I'm not being factitious at all, its a true to life question I'm posing.Father's tend to be wonderful people. Typically, caring providers who look out for the greater interests of a family. Protectors, disciplinarians, seekers and gathers alike.In my case I have some very profound memories of growing up that, through the years, have provided me with a depth of respect, admiration, and true affection for my father. Over these past 40+ years, life experiences, taught and learned, along with some truly outstanding and commendable actions, have helped me to become the person I am now. Probably more so than I may have ever acknowledged, the guidance, presence and love of my father shed the most light on the paths I have taken. Let me explain...Some of my earliest memories of being in my fathers presence probably arise from archived pictures rather than direct memory. At around age 5 I remember riding around in a pedal powered toy fire truck. About the same time I remember concrete being poured for a garage and lots and lots of gardening work. Baseball mits and afternoon catches. Cringing at those fateful words of "did you finish your homework?" "Yes, Dad." "Bring it to me so I can check it." Then instantly having that sinking feeling because I knew I'd not finished yet or had made an unknown mistake.I remember my father bringing loads and loads of work home with him. He'd always have office work at night and on the weekends as well. He'd lay on the livingroom floor with a yellow legal pad and write for hours on end. Memo's strewn about here and there reviewing all forms of application and background. As I got older I remember him being on the phone for hours on end and wonder to myself how his ear didn't just dislodge from his head.Then the teenage years arrived. I was involved in many activities; boy scouts, swimming, school sports, summer camps, etc etc. I was not exactly an outgoing person at this point. In retrospect I'd gather that all of these activities brought about my eventual personality flip-flop towards who I am now.Some of the most acute memories of my father surround a varied set of happenings:1st - We were on a family trip to California. I'd venture to say it was the early 70's. We visited San Diego, Disneyland, and then started driving up US 1 along the coastline. The views were amazing, the road windy and exciting for a child. At points we'd climb higher and higher above the ocean and could see for miles. At one point it became a challenge to look for cars that had left the roadway and crashed hundreds of feet below. The water now gently rusting the steel hulks and returning them from whenst they came. The underlying reason for those wasting hulks were lost on my sister and me. To my parents though, it must have been blantantly clear.We rounded one turn and suddenly my father pulled off the road onto the dirt shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he'd caught a glimpse of a person in need of help. Ever so casually he walked away from the car, leaving mom, sis, and me behind. Another car came by, my father spoke to them from a distance and they sped away in a fury. For the longest time, I watched as my father stood looking out at the ocean, to me just talking to the clouds and rising surf. At times his hands in his pockets, at others he'd take a very small step further away from us and then stop. He just kept talking. We asked mom what dad was doing and she said he was talking to a nice girl who was watching the ocean. Then, a while later, a police car showed up. The police officer got out of his car, said something on his radio, went to his trunk, casually took his black shoes off and put on knee high boots. He walked over to my father, gestured, shook my fathers hand and then walked away and out of sight. My father calmly walked back to the car and we sat there for a short time. My father began telling my mother a breif story about a girl who was watching the ocean. The girl had been crying and was sitting on some rocks very close to the edge so she could get a better view of the water. Years later, I finally came to understand that a woman had been distraught and resolved herself to end life with a jump. My father, having come across this person in need, calmly went to her and began talking. He tried to reason and convince her not to end her life. The police officer showed up, thanked my father profusely and casually put his climbing boots on. From there he began to interven and try to help this woman as well. It was the casualness of the officers actions that really struck everyone. He'd done this dozens if not hundreds of times. Later that day my parents watched the news and checked the papers for any word of this woman's fate. Nothing. It was such a common occurrence that it wasn't even worthy of black ink. We like to think that the officer succeeded. Later in my life I learned through study that there's a window of opportunity in such a distraught persons life, and most likely the woman decided to step back from the edge and continue her life. It was this moment in time that my father became a hero, forever more, to me.2nd - I was 16 years old. In some form at the family dinner table we started speaking on the subject of careers. My mind was of course all over the place. I loved the thought of firefighting, medical services, heavy equipment operator, newspaper reporter, etc. My father then related a story to me that his father had related to him. The gist of the story was, each and every job/career, at some point, is the most important and powerful in the world. The anecdote provided was that my grandfather was in Staten Island waiting for the ferry to take him back to Manhattan (obviously before the Veranzano Bridge was constructed). At the head of the line was the CEO of a large corporation with a chip on his shoulder. The safety gate at the base of the ramp was drawn tightly closed in front of him. That CEO was running late and he felt that honking his horn would speed the process of getting the ferry to Manhattan faster. The CEO became incensed and began to verbally demean the gate attendant standing to the side. He mocked the gatesman's overalls as compared to his three piece $1000 suit. He mocked the gatesmans shoes with their warn away soles as opposed to his loafers of italian leather. He'd ended each tirade with "Do you know who I am? I have to get to a very important meeting. I have the mind to call the Mayor." The gate attendant, clad in his dirty overalls, holely shoes, unshaven and chewing tabacco non-chalantly walked over to this very powerful man and said, "sir, you can honk and yell and scream at me in your fine shoes, expensive suit, and fancy car, but remember this, you ain't goin' nowhere until I open that gate." The CEO suddenly realized that his title, fancy clothes, the people he knew, or his position in line weren't going to get him, any faster, to Manhattan. With a profound juxtaposition, that gatesman was suddenly the most powerful man in the world to the CEO. It was with this simple story that my father taught me to respect everyone I came in contact with.3. And lastly, out of the many many acts of kindness and respect of others my father has done, its the times he's said how proud of me he is that have meant the most. Whether its because of my medical, firefighting, or daily business exploits, my father is and has always been there to tell me he loves me, gives me that kiss on the cheek, a warm hug, firm handshake or again that expression of his pride which fills my heart with warmth. I will always and forever try to achieve that pride from my father. For it will always be the standard he's set that I will try and equal in all that I do. He's taught me respect, humility, admiration of others, drive, generosity and consideration. In the end, my parents will always be the two greatest stories of my life. Without their daily presence, I would be just a shell of who I am today.I love you dad.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

A Dog, A Burger, Stuffed Sole and the Hippies

Thursday, June 15, 2006We interupt the on-going story for: A dog, a burger, stuffed sole and the hippies Current mood: creative Category: Blogging Figured today I'd take a short respit from detailing a life I lived for so long to bring you another event. Its one that I couldn't make up if I tried...it happened tonight (mostly)...So, my lovely Mary and I are on our way home from a long day at work. It was especially tough for Mary because plans she has are not coming easily (more next week) and art she composed in Photoshop was not saved properly on a CD. She brought this CD to work with her in hopes of being able to get an 11x17 photo collage printed. She discovered though, while at the print shop, that she had never finalized the CD burn, the disk remains open and, therefore, unreadable.Thankfully, our IT guy lives close by, has the program the disk was created in, and sends Mary to his house so he can remote in to his personal machine, close the disk, make it usable and thereby keep Mary on her tight schedule. 2 trips later (Mary initially grabbed the wrong disk from the office) she comes back and says, Joe (Mr. IT), tried and tried but couldn't close the disk. The disk ended up being bad. Mary at this point is nearly in tears. The day ends shortly thereafter and, as mentioned above, we head out and start for home.Conversations we partake in during commutes are always interesting when I'm around. I find the obscure and inane totally entertaining, which typically forces us to have wild conversational topics spew forth in unrelenting fashion. (She's a saint for putting up with me.)So, the conversation transitions into me describing my travel home yesterday without her. I had been but a few miles from my house when I turn onto a local bi-way and merge in behind a white Mercedes Benz, with sun roof. I'm a bit far behind this car to make it out clearly, but with a little push of a trusty pedal catch up to it. What peaked my interest was a 'blob' of sorts that was stuck to the top of the Mercedes. (I'm always up for answering the unanswered, even if the unanswered questions are a overactive and very creative imagination.) As I get closer to this car I realize this 'blob' is not a piece of space junk or horrific leftover from a bad 50's movie, but in fact it's the head of a beautiful grey weimaraner. The dog seems to be perched on the center armrest between the two front seats with its head out the top of the car. The ears are flopping wildly in the 50 mph wind. I imagine they're making a thip thip thip thip sound as the car travels down the road. After a few seconds I'm trying to find a way to grab my trusty digital camera that's in the backseat directly behind me. No luck, damn. The dog seems to be very behaved and not acting uncontrollably at all. It doesn't have its tongue out flitting in the wind dropping slobber all over the white car. It's head is pointed straight, mouth closed, ears continuing to thip thip thip all along the road. The driver then made a small gesture with his hand and down came the dog. It remained standing for a couple seconds and then sat straight upright in the passnger seat. The driver kept his arm across the armrest and continued to pet this very masterful and well behaved beast. A couple minutes go by and suddenly the turn signal starts to blink. As if the dog was also electrically tied into the car, he pops up on all fours, stands on the armrest and props his head into the wind. The dogs ears begin thipping again, and the car makes a turn off the road onto a side street. As I pass by the intersection I catch a glimpse of the master and dog continuing on their way, towards home I would imagine. The dog again removing his head (and thip thip thipping ears) from the wind and taking his place on the passenger seat waiting, with growing anticipation, for yet another turn to come.Burger, stuffed sole and the hippies.After I finish relating this colorful story to Mary we break into the inevitable discussion - what do you want for dinner tonight? Tonights an especially heavy traffic night on the Southern State. We find, 30 minutes later, what caused the delays as we pass the remnants of police and tow activity at the site of a car crash. (Damn, I think. Another crash got passed me.) Now I must say, I love traffic. When I say I love traffic, I mean I LOVE traffic. I can't do without it in my life. It's my sustinance, my air, my water. I mean, what do other people do who aren't sitting in traffic? I don't get it. Everyone should be as lucky as me and avail themselves to sit in endless, hours long, traffic each and every day of their life. People can't have anything better to do with their time than sitting in traffic, can they? (Obviously my passion for traffic is driving me nuts. I believe I am the antithesis of traffic. I loathe traffic, in all its forms - sunshine traffic, rubber-necking traffic, sympathy traffic (you know, the type of traffic created in the HOV lanes, where the lone - and typically smallest - car has sympathy for everyone else who can't drive in the HOV lane, and as such needs to drive at the same speed, start and stop, along with the single occupancy brethren 5 feet away.... love those people) hill traffic, flashy emergency lights traffic, broke down traffic, ran out of gas traffic, kid puking on the side of the road traffic, rainbow siting traffic, rain, mist, snow, hail, blowing leaf traffic. Traffic of all sorts. I've made, and buried, my point.) So, my blood pressure now elevated about 3000% from traffic and not having the inkling to stay on the road any longer than I need to, I decide we'll eat at home. I move to the right lane, slow down a bit and move through the continuing merge passing the Sunken Meadow pkwy exit, and head towards Hecksher Park and Sunrise Hwy. As I get to Sunrise, what do I find clogging that roadway? More traffic. Aren't I a happy fellow. I merge onto Sunrise and then figure I'll take the 2nd exit and get on the service road passing the Toyota dealership. Hey, this is moving pretty quick. I get back onto Sunrise near the 7-11 in Oakdale, stay on the on/off ramp and get back on the service road, thereby by-passing the traffic light and a whole bunch of stopped cars on Sunrise. I make it through the next light without stopping (this is cool), and then get back onto Sunrise at the carwash, where luckily I find.....the traffic has let up... wow. This is very fortuitous. Thereafter its a cruise all the way towards home. I'm feeling better. A tap on the brakes near 112 and then keep going, full speed ahead. I'm feeling fine again. My blood pressure is down, my anxiety level has subsided, I'm one with the world. At Peace, in total harmony with my surroundings. I'm happy. I decide (because Mary didn't make a definative dinner decision she only offered more choices) that we'll eat at the Royal Oak diner tonight. Bop off sunrise at Hospital Rd and we're there. We walk in and the place is empty. I mean 6 out of 45 tables are taken. Hmm. what's up with this. (Turns out business is down sharply because of all the other new restaurants opening in our neck of the woods.) Anyway, we're here to eat and the lesser people mean faster food.Get a table, sit down and figure our order. Mary - burger (what's new). Me stuffed sole. The waitress is nice, but a bit young. She takes our order and leaves.In walks a mother and three kids (I'd guess 2-1/2, 3-1/2 and 5). I hear her ask the host for a table 'far removed from other patrons.' Where do they put her? 2 tables away. Go figure. (This doesn't look to be shaping up like anything good.). 2 high chairs later, the young mother and 3 kids out to the diner for dinner are seated and a bit noisy. I like kids, get along with them, so its no biggie. Having disorderly kids (sometimes, not all the time, is a part of parenting) As long as they don't START the food fight, I'm okay.My salad comes. Out of the corner of my eye I see a man and woman walk in following the host. Okay, nothing out of the ordinary, just a couple of cool cats dressed in tie dye and sandals. They're being shown my way. I don't pick my head up enough to take in the entire situation. I'm reading an engrossing story in this weeks Dan's Papers. Its a story relating a third hand experience involving a 1990 George Plimpton, at a fundraiser in Montauk, who's waxing rhapsodic on a true tale about a guy in the early 80's (following?) who ties a bunch of helium ballons (the weather type) to a folding lawn chair, and begins to fly into the air. If you get a chance to read it, definatly do, while not the best and a bit scattered, its an interesting story. I'll try to scan and post it here shortly.Having finished the story, Mary and I start talking about the woman embezzler from LI who turned in her boyfriend (I read between the lines as 'ex' boyfriend) who purchased a bunch of US Marshall paraphernalia and was posing as a marshall. He was subsequently arrested (and so was she). As the conversation was getting interesting, I look over and see a table full of hippies. I nearly choked (food actually fell out of my mouth).It was a gaggle. 7 in total. 3 men and 4 women. Seated along the wall were the three men - end guy was a balding thin man in his late fifties, very statuesque. He was wearing a blue tie dye shirt, black hemp pants and open toed sandals. Next to him was an older gentleman, probably in his late sixties/seventies, glasses, full head of grey hair, yellow tie dye shirt,couldn't see what he was wearing for pants but did see the shoes were again, sandals. That's when I noticed everyone was wearing sandals. Next to him was another late 50ish man, full head of black hair, glasses, formalized throw back pressed shirt of wild design, black parachute pants, sandals. Across from the men were the women. On the right end was a woman looked to be 60 with slightly greying hair, airy very light chiffon looking ribbon tied around her head. She was wearing a flowing and floor length period (60's) hemp dress. She also had a colorful riboon tied about her waist. Next to her were three similarly clad woman, with varying degress of tie dye coloring in their dresses. Each though not wearing a similar color to the others. I got the impression the women had either set this dinner up or at least spoken about what they were wearing so as not to clash (if that could be said about tie dye).If a picture could have been taken and cropped, you'd never have imagined that this wasn't taken in the late 60's...........more later.....

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Saved - Or, What Its Really Like

Wednesday, June 14, 2006Saved (the TV Show) - or What it's REALLY Like to be a Medic? Current mood: energetic So, I've been asked a couple of questions in the theme of SAVED (the TV Show) and feel the best way to answer this would be through some form (knowing how I tend to express myself) of multi-part exploration of life to date. So, to everyone its going to be either - here it is for your reading pleasure, or here's your turn to scream in agony.What a REAL medic does in his/her day. I'll use first-hand experience. There are so many days to pick from so I guess I'll need to adjust a bit and go for the partner type first and then maybe go into things on an individual basis later on. But, we'll see.Let me describe my close friend Joe (we were partners for the better part of a year, with each describing the other as the best partner we've ever had.)My first day with Joe - We started at 5AM, so we met outside the shop at 4:45 or so. We were working a 24 (one day) together. Joe and I had known each other from lifeguarding at the beach. We seen each other in passing and had seen each other at a few parties here and there. That though was about 10 years before we were ever formally introduced, but we had a general understanding of each other.Some back story. Joe's a smart guy, really smart guy. He's a pain in the ass as well. His philosophy in life could be summed up to be, do as little work as possible while also getting paid as much as possible at the same time. Enviable in certain aspects, in others not-so-much. I guess we each have strong and soft points. I'm perfect, so I don't have any soft points (yeah, imagine that). He's a medic for say 10 years or so prior to this day. Me at the time of our first meeting, 18 years.Today is a day that we are put together because Joe's regular partner bangs in sick. We're staitioned out of a small sub-station in Amityville, NY. We punch our time cards at 5 on the dot, go up on the air (radio) and say we're in the process of doing our starting rig check. (This process involves going through the rig in detailed format to make sure we not only have every piece of equipment the State of NY mandates we have, but also the equipment we're supposed to carry prescribed by our medical director, and finally the equipment we, as medics carry with us for our personal edification.) The basic equipment is: O2, splints, backboards, stretcher, bandages, BVM, suction, light medical kit with tape and airways, sheets, linens, etc, etc. You get the picture. Then the advanced equipment, needles, IV solutions, 87 medications, narcotics/triplicates, intubation kits, etc etc. You again get the picture. Then its personal equipment. For me that meant carrying my own stocked and fully equiped supply bag. It contained everything I knew I'd need in a grab and go format soft sided case. It was used for emergencies and auto-accidents only. The remainder of the time I'd use the cheesy bags the company would supply.The check-out process would typically last about 25 minutes as I said. We'd then radio 'available' and receive our scheduled 'critical transports' for the day. The firm we worked for had been contracted by various hospitals and cardilogy teams to do all of their in-bound critical transports from ICU's/CCU's at smaller surrounding hospitals (which could mean up to 90 miles away) and bring them to the larger heart centers (Winthrop University Hospital and St.Francis Hospital - both on Long Island). Our first 'job' of the day would be scheduled for 6:15 pickup so we could have the patient into the various cath labs or surgery by 7:30.After having received our initial assignment, it was off to breakfast, which typically consisted of either a bagel place or a deli.That first morning Joe and I started at the same time and location along with another crew in another rig. We were assigned to the same hospital and therefore had the same in-bound pick-up times. The sending hospital was fairly local, so we had about 25 minutes to grab a bite and go. Joe and his 'friend' in the other rig decided we'd go to a local bagel place. We wore flight suit type uniforms. Pockets all over the place (legs, thighs, knees, chest, arms, etc.) Most of us kept an IV line and various needles, medications and IV pump tubing, Steth and personal BP cuff, scissors, hemostats, on our person all the times. On a good day we'd start out weighing about 28lbs more than when we arrived because of all the equipment we carried. These flight suits were the all the rage, grey with reflective maroon banding on them. (If I find a pic of me in one I'll post it). Underneath our uniforms we'd typically wear something season dependant. Typically though we'd have a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, or mock turtle neck on, and finally paratroopers boots.So, in we pull to the bagel place. 2 white ambulances with a maroon stripe down the side in a not-so-good section of town. In we walk and look at the counter. The three others (we were crews of 2) got behind me and let me order first. It wasn't an appealing place, but I'd seen worse, (I figured this place was tradition for them). The lone storeowner goes and puts my buttered bagel and OJ into a bag, I pay and turn around to find no partner, no ambulance, no other ambulance. Gone. WTF. I walked outside and looked up and down the blvd. Nothing. - So THIS is how things are going to be? I walked inside and called disptach and asked them to have my rig return to pick up the needed partner.20 minutes later here come 2 ambulances and they think its the funniest thing ever. Hahahaha. I climb in and Joe is beside himself laughing. Its now daylight, so I have my shades on and give him the 'beware' look over the rim of the glasses. We're off to the hospital.At the hospital I get out and say to Joe..."That's 1, you don't want anymore, believe me." To which Joe responds with a chortle and then a general laugh at my expense with the other crew. If he only knew.We grab the patient. Joe's playing medic on this one so he checks my every move. Lines set up right, he reminds me how to bleed an IV line (which I glance at him with a 'DUH' and then follow it with a dirty look. But fine I say to myself, he doesn't know me and there are a few weasles out there.) Joe is acting a little apprehensive (for all I knew though he could've been like this always) because the guy were transporting is getting 180 mgms of Tridal. ( That's liquid nitroglycerin, going striaght into his veins and vaso-dilating anything it comes in contact with. Mind you, the highest amount I'd ever seen given in all my years was 220 mgms. The stuff could stop a bull in its tracks. It managed considerable heart pain by opening the arteries bringing needed blood and oxygen to the heart muscle, the the muscle could get more O2, and therefore stop hurting) He doesn't want that amount of medication interupted even for a second. Fine, I'll deal with Joe later. We'll then play the 'what we know and don't know' game. (for info, we typically carried a 4 channel Imed pump as standard equipment, always mounted to the stretcher).The patient is a little apprehensive about what he's about to go through - turns out a CABG-5 - and starts getting a little chest pain. I'd already looked through the orders while Joe was flirting and find he's able to get as high as 190 mgms, so I up the med a bit and the pain clears. Joe sees me do this and asks what I'm doing. I tell him and he starts to ball me out for upping the meds without him there. I said, "you're getting report, I looked at the chart while you were flirting, then cleared it with his nurse, so get your facts before you speak." He returned an "oh" and gave me the look of 'sorry'. (I thought that one look was pretty cool because we all tend to be the type 'a' of type 'a's.') All the way through the hosp I'm doing my normal thing of talking up the patient and trying to figure a way, or subject matter, that would work to calm them down. Joe on the other hand is always reviewing the passing crowds. He was a flirter. It was always stop here for this or to speak with that nurse. I was fine with that, but I wasn't of the same midset. I was doing this because I LOVED emergency medicine. I got a kick out of it. I got my jollies from it. The sicker the patient the more interesting the call. I wanted to do every single job I could get my hands on. This was the biggest 'issue' Joe and I would have with each other. He'd rather sleep. Since I could NEVER sleep in a rig, down time was torture to me. But I did bring books with me and would be studying for some new medical test, class, or seminar, so I put the time to good use. (I also washed the ambulance which Joe would NEVER bring himself to do.)So, we were off. The drive to the other hospital was uneventfull. Bring the guy up to the OR, drop him off, give a couple of reports, strip the stretcher, get new linens, abscond with some padded chucks (you could never have enough of them), and we left.We go available. Another in-bound job from further out, Stony Brook to Winthrop. Joe grabbed some zz's while heading out to the other hosp. Get to the CCU, the guys fine, no lines to speak of, we grab and go. I'm speaking with the guy as Joe is driving. History, meds, report, report, report (I tended to write allot about each patient because of the ever growing litigious nature of society. I'd always be ordering more continuation forms.) My chicken scratch novel over, I sat and talked with the patient face to face (another rarity in the business. Most medics sit behind their patient in a jump seat and talk to the back of the patients head.) During this conversation Joe has this puzzled look on his face which I see when his eyes cast to the back of the ambulance through the rear-view. I scoot up to the pass-thru door in our van 'bus' and ask why the funky face. He says "you're talking too much." "What?" "You're talking to your patient. What's up with that?" "I always talk to my patients." "Weird," he says.Get to the hospital, transfer the patient over, give report, new linens, hi hi wave wave and we leave. Its now about noon and we're cleared for lunch. Joe gets on the radio and arranges to meet his friends (you remember, the two dorks we started with that morning) to meet at a diner in Farmingdale on 110. So, we go over there and sit in a booth and order lunch.Joe starts into this technical conversation with his friend about medical terminology. They're spouting this and that and laughing all the time. I chow down on my chef salad. I'm starting to get the feeling like they're carrying on with this inside discussion. Almost to the tune of, we're smarter than him and our antics will put him in his place. They then ask the stupid questions, going around the table, trying to stump me. They ask the trick questions on drug interactions, and then launch into a whole diatribe about how you should be able to use morphine more heavily in conjunction with pressors, turn to me and say, what do you think. I said, 'Sure, sounds good." They start to laugh like hienas....until I interject "that is of course until you consider the contraindications, let alone the admonition from our medical director, or for that matter prior clearance from the attending. Then its just a flat our STUPID idea in that setting. (score one dropped jaw for me). They needed to shake that one off.Then it became the very quick but intense battle of "I went to this college and worked under him," game. Around the table they went. Smirking, they get to me. Where'd you learn. I answered with "give me a time frame gentlemen and I'll list them all for you, but understand this, I've been at this a lllooonnnggg time." Then, intrigued, they compared cert numbers. "Lowest number doesn't have to pay his portion of the bill." I retort with "Thanks guys, lets do this again." Stunned, they say "prove it." Which I do.Then the looks change a bit. They want to querry me on science. Politics, current events. We sat there for an hour. By the end of this initiation, I'd been granted entry into their 'club' of sorts. Little did they know how much of a mistake that would be.Joe and I spent the remainder of the day handling emergency jobs in private homes, nursing homes, transports between hospitals, transports into the city. He was exhausted. By shifts end we'd done 22 jobs and we didn't sleep at all (other than for a few zz's while one drove).As we handed off our rig to the next 24 crew, Joe turned to me and said, ya'know, you're not that bad to work with." I returned the gesture but added "remember, you still have 1 strike. 2 more and the shit is going to fly hard and fast." He looked puzzled and then got this impish grin as if to say, "I'll work on that in 2 days when we're back together during our 12 hour tour." stay tuned, more on the real medics, Joe and a typical day.

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Saved

SAVED - FX Monday's 10PM what can I say except UGH.Let me start out by saying the first episode seemed like a re-write out of the movie Mother Jugs and Speed (1978), Harvey Keitel, Bill Cosby, Raquel Welch. If this is where the writers are going to take us, I can only say don't waste your time watching it.The premise of Daddy's an overbearing doctor, the kid was on the right track to become a doctor and then passions (and habits) took over and steered the nubile chosen one on a different course, is a weak and totally predicatble theme line. You can imagine where that relationship is going and the conflicts the writers will develop from here on out. As such, the apple hasn't become an orange, yet, and has just fallen down the hill a bit to become a nutured crab-apple - read 'paramedic'. And so the story is set. Gung ho, semi know-it-all with gambling habit kid grows up to become the 2nd best thing (if you think of things with an operational/field tone.)I'll have to watch it again with a more discreet eye, but lets see where to start:1.No seatbelts, WTF2. 02 kit with a mask attached, open, regulator on, tank cracked, sheesh.3. They need to get their code 1's and 3's straight. What's the use of having a code status if everywhere you go is lights and sirens.4. Who in gods name is playing their dispatcher. That must be one slow company to hand out all that verbage over the radio.5. The lack of hustle, I can understand. You don't run to everything. You speed walk fine, but they seemed to mosey their way around. The letters and nasty phone calls one would receive if you did that in the real world would get you a severe thrashing by the higher ups.6. Leaving the bus running with the lights on at a scene? WTF again. Un less its an auto-accident, you never leave keys, and the bus running.7. Keys, again. You park at a city hospital and leave the keys in the rig, and the rig open? Yeah, let's see how long those narcotics in the drug pack last.8. not making family events, yeah, happens all the time. 9. driving around with stuffed animals in the rig, yeah, happens.I'll talk more this weekend. If they need a technical adviser I'm here, but THEY NEED A TECHNICAL ADVISOR who's not ancient (that's a supposition on my part that they actually might have one...which I doubt.I'm calm, I'm calm.. where's my happy place. Find your happy place.Ugh, I'm all upset now just thinking about it.

Saturday, June 10, 2006

Yesterday

Saturday, June 10, 2006yesterday Current mood: cheerful so, i went to my niece's moving up day yesterday. it was a cute ceremony and a couple of funny things happened: one girl fell off the stage while trying to come back down the stairs; another (who I found out reads my blog) lost her shoe on the way up onto the stage and didn't miss a beat. She was going to walk through without letting it affect her. Unfortunely, her teachers felt otherwise and proceeded to follow her across the stage to give her the shoe back. At the end of the stage, she stopped, takes the shoe, sticks it on her foot, waves to the audience and proceeds down the steps (to applause). When on the floor, she again gives a curt wave to the audience, who again responds with applause; When Amanda's turn came, I, as usual, felt the need to scream at the top of my lungs "AAAA_MMMM_AAAA_NNNN_DDDD_AAAA" (yes, everyone turned to me and gave a frown-full look - but I'm used to that). I also found I was able to make the rubber soled shoe squeeking sound against the tiled floor. That entertained me for the better part of a 1/2 hour. (I'm just this very proud unc who tries to take an active role in her and the others lives).I also was speaking with my nephew when he heard that I have a blog. He asked what it was about and I explained it to him. The look on his face was very strange. He couldn't make the connection that I had a life before he was born and what that life had encompassed. He was also very struck by the fact that 2 of his uncles could end up at the same place (plane crash) and him not know about it. Then he was further struck by the fact that I referred to it as a very sad event in my life. I believe he knows me best for being that fun-loving, no holds barred type of guy who always wants to do new and exciting things and be somewhat....irreverent, I guess would be the best word. I think the seriousness of what I said really sank in. Strange how life runs in circles sometimes. Old events become new again.I was then struck by a rememberence of events gone by. The most prominent thought was of my 40th b'day party, where the kids all attended and I ended up sobbing, uncontrollably, because of 1 gift. Its a great and treasured memory, that night.Mary (wifey) set up this shindi for me, but kept me in the dark. All I knew of what was going to happen was that I needed an overnight bag with clothes. I said sure, why not. We left a car at the parents house and were picked up, late no less, by a car service. Off we went down the southern state and belt parkway. Here's where things started to go whacky in my head. To this point, I'd firmly believed that I couldn't be surprised. I'd certainly express surprise with whatever happened, but I'd be able to figure things out ahead of each step. As we approached JFK, I thought, hey, we're spending the night at Disney (my favorite theme park to this day - always had a desire to work there in some capacity, probably facilities designer, project manager, property manager, or EMS Systems director). Its a fun place for me to be. Maybe someday I'll explore my inner workings to figure that one out. so anyway... We pass JFK...hmmm, what's happening here, I thought. Maybe we're flying out to somewhere other than Fla. Maybe we're headed to Newark to go to Vegas. We continue on and head past the Veranzano. Hmm, okay we're going to a show, and she's tried to put me off the path by asking for an overnight bag. We head into lower Manhattan. Then we're in the southern tip of the island in front of the South Street Seaport. But we don't stop, we make a left to head west. Then we pull up in front of a hotel. Wow, doorman service.. Its the ... I can't remember, but anyway, its now defunct. Walk into this plush lobby and check in. Hmm, nice place. We're staying in a suite on the 4th floor. The bags are brought up to the room for us and we're given a tour. (Mind you, I've stayed in some nice places before where you get the tour, but nothing like this. The tour consists of taking us through the 4 room suite which includes a parlour, the master bedroom, the sitting area, in-room business center, and grand bath (with true marble jacuzzi) 2 double basin wash areas, 2 standing showers and 2 wash closets (thanks britan). Oh, it also includes a makeup area in-between the 2 full size clothes pantries, with each one containing a warming rack for the over-sized complinetary monogrammed terry cloth bathrobes. Sheesh, she really slurged on this one. Our view from the 8' tall french windows was of an interior courtyard, which in more temperate weather was used as an outdoor lounge with fountain.I was very much impressed. It takes allot to impress me, but very little to make me happy. This was first rate. While not being on a presidential suite level, it was one that'd be used for royalty and high government officials.Our first thoughts of the early evening were where to eat. She felt we'd play it by ear. We were in the financial district which placed us close to some very good food. Chinese restaurants, steak and fish houses let alone the 24 hour deli. I'd always wanted to take Mary to Fraunce's Tavern. Its a great little restaurant near the battery with a great deal of history and really good food. Its one of those "George Washington Slept Here" places. The tables next to the windows have these awesome over-stuffed wing-back chairs at ach table. You get to watch the neighborhood through great reproduction windows.We had a great dinner, finished it off with an awesome '83 Taylor Fladgate. We went back to the hotel and visited the bar. Had a decent Dow with some cookies. The bar was wonderful. Each table was a board game table. Chess, checkers, cards of all types, books and papers were there for your enjoyment. Service was very attentive but invisible (the best kind). Then we went back to the room for some enjoyment. (While I wasn't feeling all to well because of RA, I was able to take a 45 minute hot bath. My 6'5" frame fit fully into this massive marble jacuzzi. I also used each and every bath and body product they had layed out. Bath beads, toning lotion, facial peel, cucumber extract, you name it, I used it. I was toned, perfumed, moisturized, peel and rejuvinated. Swung one of the bathrobs onto me and exited looking like I was in spa heaven.)The next day we left the room late morning for some breakfast in the lounge. What a wonderful menu they had. Fresh bakery, oatmeal, fruit, mixed drinks. It was all so enjoyable. Back up to the room for a short nap. Then we were picked up about 1 for a trip to a show. Now, the car service we hired was supposed to be there a little before 1. They didn't arrive. Mary was beside herself. The driver had gotten lost, his car broke down, they didn't have the amount of drivers they needed. Any excuse was made until we couldn' wait any longer. Mary turned her bitch mode to full strength, walked away and came back and said they'd fix it by the time the show had ended. We asked the conceirge to arrange for an immediate car. The car arrived 2 minutes later and we were off in a flash. Arriving 5 minutes before curtain, we entered and had 3rd row isle seats at Mama Mia. It was wonderful. Up dancing around throughout the show, toe tapping, knee shaking, sing-a-long. Its my favorite show to date on the great street of lights. (My runner up is Wicked).As the show finishes, Mary gets on her phone and calls the car service. They promise us the car is at the theatre, directly across from the entrance. We exit and don't see anything. She calls again. This call is to the driver's cell phone. I'm looking. As Mary places the call, I see a black tux'd driver standing in front of his limo pick up his phone and gesture towards our theatre. Couldn't be. Turns out the company sent the biggest baddest super duper stretch limo they had. The thing had to be clearly 45' long. Champagne and full stocked bar was offered to us. There we sat looking at this huge thing. We walked across the street quickly and the driver quickly went around to curbside and opened the door. Since he was parked in front of another theatre (which was currently cueing for the next show) the people standing about seemed oddly curious. As we approached, cameras started flashing and I could swear I heard the word 'autograph please' over the din of passing traffic. I couldn't do anything but break a smile.We started through Manhattan. Its an odd experience being in one of those limos when its not prom season. People always tend to try and look inside. Its even stranger when you roll down the rear window and fawn like you're in the midst of a power call. People staring to see who's inside. I got a kick.The driver then asked if we were still going to dinner. I wasn't especially hungry at that time and Mary shot back, yes. She said she'd made reservations at one of our favorite restaurants, Cafe Grappa, on Hempstead Turnpike and Front Street. It was now 5ish and we were leaving the city for Long Island. I put up a bit of a tuss since Cafe can get a bit crowded for tables from 6-9. I relented though, since Mary stated the owners (she knows them from previous lifetimes) had constructed some unique dishes for me for that evening for my birthday dinner.We pulled up in front of Grappa at about 5:45 ish. Mary had been oddly nervous throughout the trip home, but I'd chaulked it up to her whole car service issue - she tends to hold onto those things for a period of time until she lets go.We pull into Grappa and head inside. We're greated by the hostess who knows Mary as well and proceeds to grab 2 menu's and walk us towards our table. I'm looking around taking in the people that are there. Its weird because they're all looking at me. Hey, I'm a big guy and these things happen all the time. 6"5" and you stick out.We're now walking toward the back of the place and I figured they've set up a table in this semi-private area for us to eat. Mary can be devious sometimes and her talents were in full tilt this weekend, I had to admit. It'd been one of the best birthday surprises I'd ever had. (She'd tried to pull of some surprise birthdays in the past, but each had to be cancelled because of bad weather (sucks to be bron in December).I get about three steps from the doorway leading to the rear private room and I notice a face I hadn't seen for a long time. Eileen Tublin was there. Hmm, that's odd. My mind now reeling a bit trying to place this face, a name and then trying to reason through what was happening, then I hear "Surpise". I had to stop. My feet wouldn't let me walk another step. What the heck was going on here. I said to myself, there's a couple people I know... No more than a couple... What the heck. I've now realized that Mary has put something small together. I'm not recognizing all the faces in the room, and I figure she's invited a couple tables worth of friends for a celebration. How's the restaurant going to fit us in this rom with the other party going on. Then I inspect all the faces in the room. I'm slowly figuring out that I can put names to each face. Then it strikes me... I know everyone. The room is full of my closest friends and family. 75 of them. I'm dumbfounded. I'm litterally, for the first time in my life, speechless.Other than saying hi and shaking hands and giving kisses, I'm at a loss. I just can't believe what this turned out to be. I find Mary's eyes and gesture my amazement. She says at that point she knew she'd surprised me. I'd been oblivious to the entire weekend. She'd conspired with everyone not to let me know a blessed thing. (If you ever need a surprise party planned and thrown, Mary is the one to call.)The night was spent visiting each and every table and spending time speaking with everyone. I had a blast. There were gifts galore and people traveled from far and wide to be there. The two crowning events of the night were the following:1. Amanda - My dear amanda. She'd recently gone down to DC to vii the supreme court. It wasn't a class trip or an excursion, but the result of a formal introduction to a supreme court justice. Amanda in the 4th grade had started taking afterschool classes in science and law at the local university. She's a bit...advanced. She's in fact the smartest person I interact with. During these college level classes she's needed to interact with scientitsts and lawyers towards completing her semester ending reports. A very close friend of the family Mel (Eileen's husband) even went so far as to go to the class and conduct in-session lectures and study sessions. He's a well established maritime attorney. He went to Kings Point and is part of their board of alumni. He interacts with senators, congressmen/women, generals, admirals, etc. Through coincidence, my fathers friend is an alumnus of Kings Point as well, who is personal friends with Justice O'Connor. One thing leads to another and a personal meeting with Justic O'Connor is set up with Amanda, during the 6th grade. Amanda met personally, and alone, for about 45 minutes with the Justice in her chanbers. Then the went into the court and sat while arguments on two cases were heard. She got to sit in the Justic's reserved seating area.When this experience was in the planning stages, I had wanted to be the person to bring her to DC. I'm enamoured with the Supreme Court and the Justices. I tried anything I could. Dropped hints, causually brought the issue up...etc etc. Just wasn't in the cards. My father and sister went down.A week before they left, I asked Amanda to get me a post-card from the court and have a picture taken outside the courthouse (because they d not allow any cameras inside the courthouse) for my edification.At my party Amanda hands me a wrapped package. I opened it to find its a picture of Amanda and Justice O'Connor in the justices chambers. Also, there's a picture of the exterior of the court. And finally, an embossed note card from the 'Chambers of Justic Sandra Day O'Connor'. Inscribed on the note card is "To Douglas Metzger, Best Wishes, Sandra Day O'Conor." Thi package is framed in a very statuesque antique frame with red white and blue matting cut -ins.I couldn't help but read it and begin to weep. I then sobbed.. Then full on bawled my eyes out in front of everyone. (Amanda became frieghtened by this and it took me a few months to convince her those were tears of joy rather than sorrow.) It was and is the nicest and most precious gift anyone has ever given me. Its hung proudly in my house where each day I come by and still look at it.2. Food fight. It started early in life. I think I was 9 or so. My maternal grandmother had a streak in her. She was german to the core. One thanksgiving we're at her house for dinner and she's in an awful mood because my grandfather (my mentor) was making these below the breath comments to her about this and that. We're sitting down and eating and grandpa makes a comment about the lack of mashed sweet potatos. Grandma abruptly turns around and says, " no sweet potatos...I have potatos here... Have some.. " and with that takes a whopping spoonful and launches them across the table at my grandfather. SMACK . In the face they hit him. That started what will be my first food fight. Those became so inrained in our future habits that each family dinner would include some form of flying food-stuff. I have now carried forward with this tradition (and in so, added my wife's family to the fray).So, here I am, drying my eyes from crying and the cake is presented to me. A decent looking sheet cake (though I personally hate sheetcakes). I go to the front of the gathering, make an off the cuff speech and toast and proceed to cut the cake. Mary is assisting and as Mary takes the first piece, traditon holds that she feeds it to me. (I guess this traditon was founded on the premise that if the cake is poisoned, the host will be the first to die sampling it, and therefore show the attendees its either fit for sustinence or doom.) Now as she goes to feed it to me, she needs to hold the plate close to my mouth for fear the piece will fall to the floor. We exchange that knowing glance which says, 'no tricks tonight or else' look. Then WHAP. The entire piece of cake and plate smacks me in the face. I was both confused and blinded by icing. Mary and I had this non-verbal communication going and she returned the message of 'I won't play tonight' glance back. I reached down to grab a napkin and wipe away my face. My hand ended on top of a head, then a shirt, then a napkin was placed there. I took it and cleared an eye. Through the gauzy flitered light because of thick whipped cream in the eyeball, I saw Mary with a horrified look. This conveyed to me that she didn't undertake the antics. I looked around and found my other two neices now laughing to no end. Turns out, they sneaked behind Mary and I and succinctly and firmly smacked Mary's hand upwards and into my face.Well a short chase ensued with the two girls in their 20's now hiding under tables with napkins over their heads. The short but ferocious cake battle took place, confined only to the participants.So, that was my best birthday ever.

Thursday, June 1, 2006

OMG

Thursday, June 01, 2006OMG!! Current mood: Puzzled So, I just received an emergency phone call from a client property. Turns out that a bush in front of the building where they live is "smoking" with 'small bits' of fire visible. The caller wanted me to dispatch a maintenance person to the building to put the smoking bush 'out.'Now, you have to understand, I'm 2 states away at this point. A maintenance person at this time of day is 45 minutes away.I, calmly now, asked "did you call the fire department?" To which was responded to me, "no, should I? Can't someone come by and dump a pot full of water on it, its only a bush." Me - "Ma'am, again, anyone I could send is 45 minutes away. I'd call the FD."Her - "I'm afraid to call the FD, because I don't know how to do it." (she owns the apartment and is 35)Me - "Ma'am, its very easy, hang up with me and dial 9-1-1"Her - " but that is for crimes, this isn't a crime."Me - " Ma'am, they handle any type of emergency, even fire's"Her - "when did they start putting fires out, I thought they carried guns"Me - "Ma'am, there's a fire outside the building you're in right now, you're calling me. I'm trying to help. Please hang up and call 9-1-1."Her - 'click'I wish I was making this up.