Jodag.NET

I have high blood pressure, it runs in my family.  I was officially diagnosed today by my doctor and I’ve got mixed emotions about this.  A) (good) I’m glad a potential long term medical condition has been identified and is in the process of being treated. B) (neutral) I’m likely going to be on medication for the rest of my life.  C) (bad) This is just another reminder, a pretty prominent one at that of my own mortality.

I had six vials of blood drawn today, and I’ve still got many more tests to run before all is said and done with this diagnosis.  El doctoro expects all the results to be normal as I’m pretty healthy, active and (relatively) young.  So, in the end it will be chalked up to genetics.  I’ve got my dad to thank for this apparently.

Thanks dad.

I bought an Enya CD after I got all this crappy news and am listening to that right now.  Music plays a huge part in calming me down.  I know I’m high strung but I also know listening to classical music and beautiful vocals like Enya relaxes me.  I can feel my pressure dropping already, or at least I feel more serene at the moment.

That and the fact that I got some potentially good news about the gimp and the pimp maybe being able to make CoS ‘08 trip today.  It’s all about timing; the gimp might need a later launch date than what is currently scheduled and the pimp might be able to get time off later than what is currently scheduled.  So, with just about a month to go before the trip, again all the variables are up in the air which just does wonders for my blood pressure.

Thanks guys.

In memory of our honored dead on Memorial day, I want to salute Sgt. Merlin German, USMC. 

Merlin was an inspiration and a saint.  With burns over 97 percent of his body he survived and thrived for three years after being given no chance to live.  Merlin was injured in Iraq by an IED and flown home so that his family could say goodbye to him before he died.  He didn’t accept that as his lot in life, he fought.  He fought bravely and selflessly for three years before succumbing to his wounds last month.

He danced with his mom and founded a charity for burnt children during those three years, all while recovering from his horrific wounds.  His life was a triumph, his triumph was an inspiration and his inspiration will continue on. 

What have I done these last three years that compares in any way?

On this Memorial Day, keep them all in your thoughts.

You can read more about Sgt. German here.

I have a unique job, there’s no doubt. The things I do and the way they get done are not commonplace in the world. The things I see and the people that are dealt with in various ways are (thankfully) not the norm.

I think I want to start writing about my job, because it entertains me and it is quite different from what you do for a living.  It may entertain or enlighten you. This might give you a perspective on me, maybe good or maybe bad, who knows. I’m not really sure how I’m going to go about this though, as some of the stuff I deal with is confidential until the courtroom proceedings are done, some deal with patient privacy laws and some are just not my cup of tea.

For instance last Saturday at work I was bouncing a big boy’s face off the hardball when he tried to fight. Then this Saturday I saw the worst femur fracture that I’ve seen yet. I get a wide variety of things to deal with at work and at any time I am expected to be able to deal with anything from breaking up a domestic violence in progress when I was just trying to get a snack at the local gas station to stopping bleeding coming from both femoral arteries.

I need to figure out how I’m going to do this and 1) maintain my anonymity 2) maintain all patient privacy and other legalities involving people charged with crimes and 3) find the time to write about work regularly. There’s definitely plenty of content to write about, but time is the scarce commodity.

Seriously though, today the guy’s leg was pointed backwards. I have never seen a spirally fractured femur before this.  Plenty of regular old femurs broken in half here and there, but this one was something else.  I can’t imagine the pain the patient was dealing with.  Thankfully, the airsquad was on scene pretty quick, but there was nothing quick or easy about setting a sager splint on there after straightening the leg.  I’ll remember this one, that’s for sure.

Things like today are why when I ride my dirtbike on patrol I ride slow and steady.  Throughout my 20,000 acre beat I carry all the ghosts of what I’ve seen, who was hurt and who didn’t make it.  Each one of them urges and reminds me to take it easy; slow is smooth, smooth is fast.

Ouch. In a range of X-Y scores, I got 1X and 1X+1 for the two photos entered into the contest.

Four months ago in Chicago I saw mom’s grave. There’s alot to be said about that, but the thing that sticks out most is how hard it was to find. I knew the cemetary it was in, so that was easy but finding the grave itself wasn’t.

At the office in the cemetery I asked for her by the names I thought she would be buried under. First, Linda Borden, her maiden name. Nothing. Next Linda Mole, nothing. Now, you have to keep in mind that this is an older cemetary and maybe newer ones are different but this one had all it’s files in large dusty old tomes. So to look up Borden, the clerk needed to get the “B” book and Molae the “M” book. So the clerk seems pissy already. The other thing to keep in mind that a son who misses his mom and has never seen her grave is trying his best but failing miserably not to cry like a baby the whole time.

So next I ask for Linda Grant. After a snippy comment from the clerk she brought out the “G” book. Lo and behold, there she was. She hadn’t carried the Grant name for at least 8 years before she died. But it was a touching last wish of hers to be buried with the name of two of her children. Tears that have been saved for 20 years went out the window at that point while the clerk showed me on the map where to find the grave.

I followed the map but found no grave. I searched high and low where it was supposed to be to no avail. There was no Linda Grant buried there that I saw. So, I returned to the office to ask again. Another, nicer clerk helped this time while the first one sat in back looking even pissier than before. This clerk explained that there was no gravestone marker for my mom, but showed me how to find it based on nearby gravestones.

I didn’t know that there were unmarked graves in the world, I thought that was something that happened in the old west, not in present day society.

So, I found it.

I’ve got poison oak again for the first time since 2004. This time, after hearing about Jared’s troubles with the oak and the drugs (steroids) doctors prescribed for it I went to the doctor for some meds. If you’re unaware, I despise poison oak with a passion of a thousand suns. Between the oak and sunburns I can’t decide which I’d rather die from but they are basically my worst nightmares.

Anyway, yeah steroids are neat. I can feel a surge of sustained energy about 1/2 an hour after taking them. It’s something of a rush. I might have to hold on to a few of them in case I do the old Baker To Vegas run this year. So that’s about it. I just wanted to put in a little note about the oak so I remember it in the future. Much like I remember the 2004 oak episode.

That’s about it. Welcome to 2007, if I can keep this trend up I won’t get any more oak until 2010.

Wow. Trauma. Lots of trauma lately. Is this a bad sign for the High Sierra Trail trip? Or just some bad luck here and there lately? This is my right calf. The yellow tint you see is not my normal skin tone, it’s the receding bruise line.

Referred to an orthopedic surgeon, as it is a broken finger. The bottom 1/3rd of the finger is spirally fractured, 4-6 weeks of elevation, medication and relaxation. So, the only thing the doctor really did for me is prescribe painkillers. I knew it was broke, had a pretty good idea on where/how it was broke and was already taping it to my middle finger as a psuedo-splint. Whatever, he was a cool guy. Lets see what my boss wants me to do while my trigger finger is borked.

I might have alot of time to catch up on some old PC/XBOX/PS2 games before the Xbox 360 comes out, as I’m out of work?

Pain is an excellent teacher. No matter who you are, how much you make, or how cool you are pain can and will teach you. It will teach you your limits, both physically and mentally. It will teach you respect and if your smart it can teach you fear. Don’t be content with these lessons though, learn more than it will teach. Learn that you can do anything up to that limit you just learned. Learn how to get around, through and over that limit. Learn what it is to be alive. Pain is an excellent teacher, just learn what you can and need to then move on to other lessons.

I forgot how much of a pussy I am when it comes to physical pain. I torqued my right hand’s booger finger on the Split mountain hike one week ago today. I was planning on avoiding seeing a doctor unless the damn thing didn’t start feeling better. It was swollen, black and blue and it looked worse than it felt. Last night, loading a car up with some misc bags, I happened to swipe the bad finger against the car. I cried. I decided to see a doctor.

So, after trying to figure out where, and who my doctor is, then trying to figure out why I never changed my doc from Orange county to somewhere local, I finally got in to see someone. He got some Xray’s done and now I am just waiting on the results from that. Here’s my feeling about what is going on in that there finger.

That artistic rendering is what I think is wrong. The red line indicates where I think the break is. Last night when I swiped the finger against the car, I hit the left side of my finger, and I swear I could feel the bone trying it’s best to snap on out of my skin at the bottom outside portion of my finger and in the middle inside section of it. I haven’t cried in along time, this was fucking pain. But, I’m a pansy with pain, so who really knows, it may just be a splinter.

At least my legs have recovered enough so that I can walk without looking like a lame duck.

I’ve learned alot of lessons from pain. I’m learning some interesting ones in the background of this finger pain, those are the ones I keep to myself though. I don’t know what to do with these other lessons. The choice between comfort (translate to safety for this quote) and freedom (Liberty is another word for fredom) is one that the mighty Benjamin Franklin once weighed in on by stating, “They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.”

It’s an easy trade though, safety is appealing and Freedom is kinda scary.

I think I’m just kinda babbling now, waiting for the news and some kind of painkiller hopefully. Wonder what I’d I write when I’m on a painkiller? I’ll update later with the finger info.

I have a new bitch. It goes by the name of Split Mountain. The peak may just well be the most awe inspiring piece of earth I have ever stood upon. The views from up there are what I can honestly only describe as fucking jaw dropping. The fact that I had no camera to attempt to document the journey and the goal just makes me sad and angry, because I’m not sure if my poor little body has enough life left in t to ever make another attempt on that son of a bitch mountain again.

Basic stats:

Total time: 17 hours of hiking

Total mileage: 16 or so miles

Total elevation gain: 7600 feet (and a subsequent 7600 feet of elevation loss on the way back).

Total broken fingers: 1

Total blisters: 3 or so

Total pain: Yes

I can’t keep up with Gant. I wish he was younger than me so I could blame my excessive age. Right now though, I’m just happy I made it to the top and down safely.

I already want to go back, any takers?