Out of My Mind–Part One

The Length of the ride in the ambulance to the Contagious Disease Hospital is all I remember. I don’t recall how fast they drove or if a siren sounded. The attendants moved me into the hospital, and slid me off the cart to a bed in a room alone. The room seemed dark but I didn’t care one bit. My head pounded, and it hurt like heck to move my neck.  My throat felt like fire and I couldn’t swallow. The fever made me delirious. I wanted to sleep, and make it all go away.

A steady stream of doctors and nurses came throughout the night to examine me. Each one asked the same questions. Each one tested the stiffness of my neck. One nurse stuck a glass thermometer into my mouth another stuck a needle into my hand and taped it there. She hung a bag with fluid and started it flowing. A male nurse inserted a catheter. I wished they would leave me alone and let me sleep. When they finally left, I lay in a hospital gown tossing and turning, the fever cooking me from within; my arm tied to the bed so I couldn’t jerk the needle out.

After what seemed like an eternity, two nurses came. They rolled me to the edge to spread a rubber mattress on the bed. A male aid came with a tub full of ice cubes. I wondered what they were going to do, but didn’t really care. I was hot and my mind was everywhere.

The aid began pumping ice water into the rubber mattress under me. At first the coolness felt good. After awhile on the chilling bed I began to shiver uncontrollably. The nurses kept replacing the water in the mattress, the aid brought more ice. My teeth chattered from the cold, my body shook uncontrollably. Lying on the ice mattress made me cold, but the fire in my body raged on. They threw a blanket over me to help, but I kept shivering under the covers.

Many weeks later, I learned that my body temperature went over one-hundred-five degrees as the virus worked its evil in my body. The torture of the ice mattress was necessary to save me. As uncomfortable as it was, I couldn’t care less.

During the endless hours of delirium, visions of Mendel and football tryouts played through my mind. I needed to get out of this place to make it to the tryouts. Plans for an escape filled my mind.  Each time a doctor came to check my condition I asked if I’d be home in time for the tryouts. None of them ever answered.

THE FLU SUCKS

Tamiflu medicine pill by a Swiss company Roche...

Image via Wikipedia

Get a flu shot. That is the recommendation for old guys every year. I got mine in September, and guess what? I got the flu on New Year’s eve.  I spent the week chiding Grandma Peggy for not having her shot this year. She got a real serious dose of some virus which put her into misery. So much so, that she let me take her to see a doctor. He spent 5 minutes assessing the situation, said “Yep you have the flu.” He handed her a complimentary squirt of bacterial gel as he fled the room. He wasn’t wasting any time getting out of harms way.

She started feeling lousy on Tuesday evening,  By Wednesday night she was miserable, and on Thursday, she felt like dying. That’s when she relented and agreed to see her doctor. All this time, I’m thinking “Thank GOD I got my flu shot.”

The following day, Friday,  was New Year’s eve. We had called off the party we planned, and were spending a quiet evening watching TV. By this time, the Tamiflu was working in Peggy’s favor, and she felt considerably better. Then the crap hit the fan. It started with sniffles and throat clearing. Then the nose started running like a faucet. The dripping was interrupted only by uncontrolled sneezes that came in fours, fives, and sixes.

So much for the flu shot.

It is now four days later, and I’m feeling a little better, but need a nap by the afternoon.

I guess I have to admit, that the flu shot did do some good, since my case was less virulent than Peggy’s, but crappy enough to spoil New Year’s Day.

Thirty Miles Per Burger

Grumpa Joe Pulling Into the Job

Grumpa Joe Pulling Into the Job

In the last two days, I have heard how the government handling of federal highway funds is being squandered on things such as bicycle paths. I agree that we need safe bridges and good roads, but I disagree that we don’t need bike paths.

A bike rider has every right to share the road with drivers. He does carry the same responsibility as a driver and must obey the same laws. A bicycle is considered a vehicle the same as a car. Most drivers do not share this attitude, even though the laws clearly state the right. I know many avid cyclists who use a bicycle as a form of transportation. They ride to work,  take trips across states, and tour foreign countries; all on a bike. They use public highways when they ride. I also happen to live near a popular bicycle path called the Old Plank Road Trail. It is twenty miles long and connects six towns.  I walk the path regularly. I see hundreds of cyclists using the path daily. They range in age from eight to eighty. They feel safe on a path whereas they would never ride a bike on a busy public road. They get their exercise through the enjoyment of a linear park. 

Here is my argument. A bike path will keep  bicyclists off  public roads where sociopathic drivers love to score points for taking out cyclists. I have several personal experiences that I can share about how much love there is for a bicyclist by a driver.  A bicycle path promotes exercise, a much needed activity in this OBESE country. The logic would go this way:

A bike path promotes exercise,

Excercise helps maintain health

Therfore, a bicycle path helps maintain health.

With all the argument about the high cost of  health care, why pick on one thing that will help us maintain our health with a nominal investment?

Bike paths are infrastructure that don’t require as much maintenance as a highway. Thus, the money spent goes further than money spent on a federal highway.

Older and Wiser

Wow! Too many projects, too little time to get them all done. Does that sound familiar? Let me tell you something folks, it doesn’t change with age. As long as a person has his health, and mental faculties, he will continue to want to be a useful citizen of this earth. I had a question last night from one of my Lions Club friends. We touched upon the election in our discussion. He is concerned because he is a conservative in all his views, yet he is questioning about voting for an old man.

He looked at me and asked, “how old are you Joe?

“Seventy,” I replied.

“Do you feel that you have the energy and mental capacity to be president?

“Yes,” was my answer. 

The real question in my mind is whether nature will be good to me, and let me keep my health and energy as I age. I fully intend to stay healthy, and today, I am reasonably healthy, but will I stay that way for much longer? I don’t know, neither do you. Only the Lord knows what is ahead of us. All we can do is, “Remember yesterday, Dream tomorrow, Live today.” 

So what if our current conservative candidate is old? He will select a younger Vice Presidential partner, who will rise to the occasion if it is necessary.  It is also a fact that young men die too. Many of them live a higher risk life style than older men, so their chances of meeting with injury or accidental demise is probably greater. Remember Christopher Reeves, “Super Man,” broke his neck while enjoying his passion, i.e. riding a horse. More recently, Heath Ledger died of too many medicines at one time. To quote a line from the movie “Forest Gump,”

” Shit Happens.”

 Life is filled with stories about people who die when they shouldn’t.

Instead of worrying about a candidate’s age, and his prospects for surviving life, we should concentrate on which political philosophy we want our kids, and grandkids to grow up with. We should be discussing our life values and the reasons that we believe in them.

My parents were staunch Democrats. They made one “X” on their ballot. They believed in President Franklin Delano Roosevelt as the saviour of the working class. Mom and Dad, lived through the depression, they blamed President Hoover for everything that went wrong with the economy. Yet, when I think about how they taught me to live, they were as conservative as the day is long. They never spoke of conservatism, but they lived it. They wouldn’t have understood what “Green” meant, but they lived more “Green” than any modern citizen does today. Their bottom line philosophies:

“If you don’t have the money, don’t buy it.”

“When you have land, you will always be able to feed yourself.”

Mom wasn’t talking about acres or hundreds of acres, she was talking about a back yard. She made our tiny yard into a farm. She raised vegetables, chickens, flowers, and some grass too.

“Never waste.” Mom knew how to mend socks, shirts, and pants. She knew the value of re-cycling hand-me-downs, and somehow we managed to survive without knowing we were poor.

“Welfare is for people who are worse off than we are.” My Dad would have hung himself before he accepted money from the government. He came to this country with the clothes on his back, got a job, learned English, took abuse from his co-workers, and managed to feed and educate three kids.

If you believe in big government, and the philosophy that Big Brother should take care of you, that’s okay. You should vote for the Liberal.

I happen to believe that the government is way too big, and the National Debt is out of control. If you want to tax me to pay off the debt, okay. If you want to tax me to pay for more social programs, go fly a kite.

I’m voting conservative even if the candidate is 101 years old. He’d be the much wiser choice.