Friday, September 25, 2009
Lessons learned
I learned a lot on this trip. The next time (and there will be a next time) I will take my pillow so I can sleep better. I will take some Motrin along to help with the sore body. If I can find the cold packs that you squeeze, I'll take them along for the sore butt. As well as some muscle rub. There is a cream that you put on your shorts to prevent friction rubs. ( Now I know not to wear underware under my cycle shorts!)I know all about friction rubs. I have two of them. They are much better today thank you very much. The last day I took full advantage of the break snacks and I felt I had much more energy for that ride. I need to ride a few more hills to learn exactly how and when to shift. The hills are what gave me a lot of problems. I came to look at them as an opportunity to stretch my legs and hydrate (walk and have a drink). That last day I only walked up 2 hills. Either I was getting better or the hills were not as bad.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The ride of a lifetime!
Day 1 camp site on the lake
Day 2 camp site on a baseball field.
Day 1 injury to my right leg.
Day 2 injury to my right leg
It was billed as the ride of a lifetime. It certainly lived up to that for me! I flew into Grand Rapids via Chicago. The flight was on time and the weather was perfect. The first camp site was by Wabasis Lake Park in Greenville. It was beautiful. We had dinner in a large circus style tent which was followed by the opening ceremony. Then it was off to bed for me as it would be my first long ride in the morning. The temperature got down to 40 that night and I was glad to have a mat for the sleeping bag.
Coffee was at 6 o’clock and breakfast at 6:30 (as it would be for the remainder of the trip). The ride today was from Greenville to Fremont. The first break was at the 15.7 mile mark, more miles than I had ever done in one day. Just about killed me but I survived. I fell off the bike at the stop sign crossing the street to the rest area and skinned up my right knee really well. Lunch was at the 27.3 mile mark at Long Lake Park. I had pasta and a salad and headed out after about an hour. There was a rest stop again at 48.3 and 61.4 miles. We ended the ride at Branstrom Park for a first day total of 67 miles. What a day. I could hardly walk to my tent to get my shower stuff. I was holding the hand rail with both hands to make it up the stairs. It was shower, dinner and bed for me tonight. I was so tired but I had a feeling of accomplishment
Day 2 was from Fremont to Stony Lake. It was a short 2.6 mile ride to a dialysis center in the rain where we had a program ceremony until 10:00. The first real break was to be at the 12.2 mile but I never made it to that stop. At about the 11 mile mark I needed a drink so I slowed down so I could stop for a drink. My foot got caught up in the stirrup and the bike fell over in what seemed like slow motion. The sprocket put a large gash behind my right calf. A few seconds later the blob started dripping out, slow at first and then faster. I had to use my bandana as a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. The backraods van came by and took me to the dialysis center to have it cleaned up. I removed the tourniquet and the blood started back up again. It was off to the ER where it took 11 stitches to close the leg up and get me on my way. The backroads van was waiting for me when I got out and I had him drop me off at as close to my fall as possible. I continued the day and finished up at about 5:30. That was 66.7 miles. What a long and painful day. Once again it was shower, dinner, and bed.
Day 3 was my chance to do a 100 mile ride. I had until mile 61 to decide if I was going to go that route or if I was going to do a metric century, 100 kilometers (65 miles). Well lunch was not agreeing with me and my legs felt like they were made of jelly, and my stitches felt like they were pulling. The 100 mile ride would have to wait. I pulled into camp about 3 o’clock. I was ready to drop. I took my shower and headed over to the massage tables to have my back worked on. Afterward it was dinner and bed. I was ready to drop. I had blisters in places that you are not supposed to get blisters.
That was almost 200 miles in a three day time span. There were many times when I wanted to quit, calling for the van and taking the easy way out. But I didn’t. I did most of my riding alone. I was way to slow for the good riders and a little faster than the other novices. I am so glad that I was asked to ride and I hope that I can do it again next year. We raised almost $700,000 for the Kidney Trust. It is a non profit that tests for kidney disease so that dialysis can be delayed or even prevented.
Coffee was at 6 o’clock and breakfast at 6:30 (as it would be for the remainder of the trip). The ride today was from Greenville to Fremont. The first break was at the 15.7 mile mark, more miles than I had ever done in one day. Just about killed me but I survived. I fell off the bike at the stop sign crossing the street to the rest area and skinned up my right knee really well. Lunch was at the 27.3 mile mark at Long Lake Park. I had pasta and a salad and headed out after about an hour. There was a rest stop again at 48.3 and 61.4 miles. We ended the ride at Branstrom Park for a first day total of 67 miles. What a day. I could hardly walk to my tent to get my shower stuff. I was holding the hand rail with both hands to make it up the stairs. It was shower, dinner and bed for me tonight. I was so tired but I had a feeling of accomplishment
Day 2 was from Fremont to Stony Lake. It was a short 2.6 mile ride to a dialysis center in the rain where we had a program ceremony until 10:00. The first real break was to be at the 12.2 mile but I never made it to that stop. At about the 11 mile mark I needed a drink so I slowed down so I could stop for a drink. My foot got caught up in the stirrup and the bike fell over in what seemed like slow motion. The sprocket put a large gash behind my right calf. A few seconds later the blob started dripping out, slow at first and then faster. I had to use my bandana as a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. The backraods van came by and took me to the dialysis center to have it cleaned up. I removed the tourniquet and the blood started back up again. It was off to the ER where it took 11 stitches to close the leg up and get me on my way. The backroads van was waiting for me when I got out and I had him drop me off at as close to my fall as possible. I continued the day and finished up at about 5:30. That was 66.7 miles. What a long and painful day. Once again it was shower, dinner, and bed.
Day 3 was my chance to do a 100 mile ride. I had until mile 61 to decide if I was going to go that route or if I was going to do a metric century, 100 kilometers (65 miles). Well lunch was not agreeing with me and my legs felt like they were made of jelly, and my stitches felt like they were pulling. The 100 mile ride would have to wait. I pulled into camp about 3 o’clock. I was ready to drop. I took my shower and headed over to the massage tables to have my back worked on. Afterward it was dinner and bed. I was ready to drop. I had blisters in places that you are not supposed to get blisters.
That was almost 200 miles in a three day time span. There were many times when I wanted to quit, calling for the van and taking the easy way out. But I didn’t. I did most of my riding alone. I was way to slow for the good riders and a little faster than the other novices. I am so glad that I was asked to ride and I hope that I can do it again next year. We raised almost $700,000 for the Kidney Trust. It is a non profit that tests for kidney disease so that dialysis can be delayed or even prevented.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Tour DaVita
I will be representing San Antonio Kidney Disease Access Center in the Tour DaVita starting this weekend. This is a fund raising and education awareness event that is sponsored by DaVita. I will be biking 250 miles in 3 days in the hills of Grand Rapids Michigan. The first day is 70 miles, the second day is 70 miles, the third day is 100 miles, and then it is a wake up and a short 10 mile ride to the finish. The nights will be spent camping in tents. I looked at the weather and it should be very good for biking. I will be taking my camera with me and take pictures along the way. I’m not sure of the site but I heard that a web site is set up for folk to follow the tour on line from the comforts of home. I leave at 0720 in the morning and will return on Wednesday evening. I hope to have fun and promote education in the communities that we are riding through. Wish me luck!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Tree Tag and Bicycle Dodgeball
Remember my ramblings about hair brained ideas. I think that when kids are bored they come up with interesting ways to entertain them selves. Especially if there is a group wondering what to do.
On one such occasion the Mullins boys and some other neighborhood boys were doing just that; trying to think up a new game to keep us occupied. We were bored with just plain tag. It was too easy. How about tree climbing? Too boring as well. (Now comes the hair brained idea.) How about tree tag? Excellent idea!
We sat down and made up a quick set of rules. We wanted to keep it simple so there were only two rules. No tag backs and no touching the ground. With that we were off. There was a perfect tree behind the house that had limbs that spread way out. At the base of the tree we did the usual “enie, meni, myni, mo” to see who is it. Well I was it first.
The rest of the boys climbed the tree while I counted to fifty. What a site that must have been to see all of us jumping around the tree, leaping from branch to branch like a bunch of monkeys. I started up the tree looking for easy prey. Donnie was the closest so it was off to the races so to speak.
We were all leaping and swinging from branch to branch. Climbing high and leaping low. We were having such a good time. Until. Donnie made a leap to a branch to avoid being tagged. His hands slipped from the branch and he fell flat on his back! All we heard was a loud “aughhhh” and then nothing else.
We scrambled out of the tree and gathered around his unmoving body. I stared down at his un breathing body and exclaimed “he’s dead”. I knew what I had to do, find an adult. I took off across the neighborhood to get Fran. Fran was the Mom of one of the kids we played with. She was about five feet tall and went about 175 pounds. I busted into her house and shouted “Donnie’s dead!” I told her where he was and we both took off running. She beat me there!
We looked down at Donnie and his eyes were closed and he was still unmoving. “He’s dead” I stated as a matter of fact. Donnie opened his eyes and said “Who’s dead?” Fran checked him out to make sure he was not hurt. He just had the wind knocked out of him. At least this time there were no serious damage to anyone….unlike that that other time…
We made up another game to help pass the time. We combined riding our bike with dodge ball. What a great game. One person was on one side of the street and a second on the other. Then we rode our bikes back and forth while the ball was thrown across. We could play this game for hours.
One summer day we were playing and I wasn’t paying attention. The ball went across the street, hit the curb and started to roll back. I looked at the thrower and was making faces because they had missed the person in front of me. About that time my front tire hit the ball and stopped it on a dime. Unfortunately the rest of the bike did not stop and the back end of the bike went up and over me. I went up and over the handlebars and the back tire found my face. I landed part on the grass and part on the curb. What a mess I was.
I was told that I got up and was cussing the bike loudly. This brought my Dad to the door to see what was going on. There I stood with two bloody knees, two bloody elbows and a bloody nose. My Dad took me into the house to clean me up. He rinsed a wash cloth to wipe my nose. When he did this his eyes got wide. I wasn’t crying up to this point. After I saw the look in my Dads eyes I knew that something was not quite right. The floodgates opened and there was no stopping it. When Dad wiped my nose he saw that the upper lip was missing.
Dad took me to the hospital where it just so happened to be an aspiring plastic surgeon on duty. When he saw my lip he rubbed his hands together and started his work. My upper lip looked like hamburger meat. Many hours and many sutures later my lip was pieced back together. That is when they noticed the swelling on my right forearm. Over to x-ray we go. Both bones broke clean.
By the time I got home I looked like I was back from war. I had bandages on both knees and elbows, a cast on my right arm and gauze taped across my face. I had to chew with my mouth open and my siblings complained to Dad and I had to eat in the kitchen for the next few weeks. Talk about insult to injury!
I often look back on those days and wonder how did I ever make it to adulthood? What imagination we had. Now a days it video games, computer and television that keeps the kids entertained. I’m not so sure I would call that progress.
On one such occasion the Mullins boys and some other neighborhood boys were doing just that; trying to think up a new game to keep us occupied. We were bored with just plain tag. It was too easy. How about tree climbing? Too boring as well. (Now comes the hair brained idea.) How about tree tag? Excellent idea!
We sat down and made up a quick set of rules. We wanted to keep it simple so there were only two rules. No tag backs and no touching the ground. With that we were off. There was a perfect tree behind the house that had limbs that spread way out. At the base of the tree we did the usual “enie, meni, myni, mo” to see who is it. Well I was it first.
The rest of the boys climbed the tree while I counted to fifty. What a site that must have been to see all of us jumping around the tree, leaping from branch to branch like a bunch of monkeys. I started up the tree looking for easy prey. Donnie was the closest so it was off to the races so to speak.
We were all leaping and swinging from branch to branch. Climbing high and leaping low. We were having such a good time. Until. Donnie made a leap to a branch to avoid being tagged. His hands slipped from the branch and he fell flat on his back! All we heard was a loud “aughhhh” and then nothing else.
We scrambled out of the tree and gathered around his unmoving body. I stared down at his un breathing body and exclaimed “he’s dead”. I knew what I had to do, find an adult. I took off across the neighborhood to get Fran. Fran was the Mom of one of the kids we played with. She was about five feet tall and went about 175 pounds. I busted into her house and shouted “Donnie’s dead!” I told her where he was and we both took off running. She beat me there!
We looked down at Donnie and his eyes were closed and he was still unmoving. “He’s dead” I stated as a matter of fact. Donnie opened his eyes and said “Who’s dead?” Fran checked him out to make sure he was not hurt. He just had the wind knocked out of him. At least this time there were no serious damage to anyone….unlike that that other time…
We made up another game to help pass the time. We combined riding our bike with dodge ball. What a great game. One person was on one side of the street and a second on the other. Then we rode our bikes back and forth while the ball was thrown across. We could play this game for hours.
One summer day we were playing and I wasn’t paying attention. The ball went across the street, hit the curb and started to roll back. I looked at the thrower and was making faces because they had missed the person in front of me. About that time my front tire hit the ball and stopped it on a dime. Unfortunately the rest of the bike did not stop and the back end of the bike went up and over me. I went up and over the handlebars and the back tire found my face. I landed part on the grass and part on the curb. What a mess I was.
I was told that I got up and was cussing the bike loudly. This brought my Dad to the door to see what was going on. There I stood with two bloody knees, two bloody elbows and a bloody nose. My Dad took me into the house to clean me up. He rinsed a wash cloth to wipe my nose. When he did this his eyes got wide. I wasn’t crying up to this point. After I saw the look in my Dads eyes I knew that something was not quite right. The floodgates opened and there was no stopping it. When Dad wiped my nose he saw that the upper lip was missing.
Dad took me to the hospital where it just so happened to be an aspiring plastic surgeon on duty. When he saw my lip he rubbed his hands together and started his work. My upper lip looked like hamburger meat. Many hours and many sutures later my lip was pieced back together. That is when they noticed the swelling on my right forearm. Over to x-ray we go. Both bones broke clean.
By the time I got home I looked like I was back from war. I had bandages on both knees and elbows, a cast on my right arm and gauze taped across my face. I had to chew with my mouth open and my siblings complained to Dad and I had to eat in the kitchen for the next few weeks. Talk about insult to injury!
I often look back on those days and wonder how did I ever make it to adulthood? What imagination we had. Now a days it video games, computer and television that keeps the kids entertained. I’m not so sure I would call that progress.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
A Fish Story
Many years ago, before my brain was fully developed, my brother-in-law and a friend decided that we were going fishing for shark at Big Shell. Big shell is an area on Padre Island where four wheel drive vehicles are required for access. I had my Toyota truck and my brother-in-law had a Blazer. We were good to go. We did a tackle check to make sure we had all of the gear that we would need. All was in order. Next topic was what to use for bait. After much discussion, we learned that we could get buckets of blood from the slaughter house. That is precisely what we did, three buckets full! We picked up a roast that was on sale to use for the hooks. We were now good to go.
We left very early in the morning form San Antonio. When we arrived at the beach it was still dark. We drove down the beach until we found a good place to park the trucks. We were all so excited. With all of the blood and bait, we just knew that we were going to be successful. We each pulled out our rods and baited the shark hooks with the roast. Now, how to get the bait far off shore where the sharks are? We decided that the best way is to wade out, cast, and then wade back. So that’s what we did, with three buckets of blood in hand! (Remember, I did say before my brain was fully developed).
We waded out until the water was up to my chest. We all cast our lines out and then opened the buckets of blood, all three! We proceeded to dump the blood in hopes of attracting shark to the area. Keep in mind we are in the water about 300 feet from the shore and it is still dark! We start back, releasing our line as we wade back to shore. We set the drag on the reels and then kick back to wait for the big catch.
Several hours go by without any activity on the reels. The sun is up and we start to see a few trucks go by. Getting discouraged and ready to find a different area to fish, we heard one of the reel click. We all looked over at the rod. It then clicked out again. Then the tip of the rod went down and it was on! My brother-in-law raced to the rod and pulled back to set the hook! At this point we reeled in the other two rods to get them out of the way.
This fish is really giving a good fight! My brother-in-law is walking up and down the beach. He reels in some line and then the drag lets out line as the fish makes a run. This is crazy! By this time there are several vehicles that have seen the struggle and have pulled over to see the catch. Over thirty minutes have gone by and the fight is still going strong! After an hour, there are about thirty to forty vehicles and people are sitting on tailgates and taking pictures.
We reach about an hour and a half into the fight and progress is being made. There is more line coming in than going out and we can start to see a shape under the water. What the hell is that! I walked out into the water and reached down and wrestled it to shore. After all of the planning, waiting and fighting, we pulled in a huge plastic bag! I laughed so hard, as did many of the crowd that had gathered! Some were very upset that they “wasted my morning” on a plastic bag. A good many had been parked for over an hour.
The plastic bag was of the type that is used offshore. The tide must have brought it into the shore and the undertow would pull it back out. Not to mention that the drag was set to lose on the reel. Inside the bag was a small fish that had become trapped. The trip wasn’t a total loss. I tossed the little fish back into the water after asking if he wanted a picture of Moby Dick. That is a fishing trip that I will always remember and always puts a smile on my face.
We left very early in the morning form San Antonio. When we arrived at the beach it was still dark. We drove down the beach until we found a good place to park the trucks. We were all so excited. With all of the blood and bait, we just knew that we were going to be successful. We each pulled out our rods and baited the shark hooks with the roast. Now, how to get the bait far off shore where the sharks are? We decided that the best way is to wade out, cast, and then wade back. So that’s what we did, with three buckets of blood in hand! (Remember, I did say before my brain was fully developed).
We waded out until the water was up to my chest. We all cast our lines out and then opened the buckets of blood, all three! We proceeded to dump the blood in hopes of attracting shark to the area. Keep in mind we are in the water about 300 feet from the shore and it is still dark! We start back, releasing our line as we wade back to shore. We set the drag on the reels and then kick back to wait for the big catch.
Several hours go by without any activity on the reels. The sun is up and we start to see a few trucks go by. Getting discouraged and ready to find a different area to fish, we heard one of the reel click. We all looked over at the rod. It then clicked out again. Then the tip of the rod went down and it was on! My brother-in-law raced to the rod and pulled back to set the hook! At this point we reeled in the other two rods to get them out of the way.
This fish is really giving a good fight! My brother-in-law is walking up and down the beach. He reels in some line and then the drag lets out line as the fish makes a run. This is crazy! By this time there are several vehicles that have seen the struggle and have pulled over to see the catch. Over thirty minutes have gone by and the fight is still going strong! After an hour, there are about thirty to forty vehicles and people are sitting on tailgates and taking pictures.
We reach about an hour and a half into the fight and progress is being made. There is more line coming in than going out and we can start to see a shape under the water. What the hell is that! I walked out into the water and reached down and wrestled it to shore. After all of the planning, waiting and fighting, we pulled in a huge plastic bag! I laughed so hard, as did many of the crowd that had gathered! Some were very upset that they “wasted my morning” on a plastic bag. A good many had been parked for over an hour.
The plastic bag was of the type that is used offshore. The tide must have brought it into the shore and the undertow would pull it back out. Not to mention that the drag was set to lose on the reel. Inside the bag was a small fish that had become trapped. The trip wasn’t a total loss. I tossed the little fish back into the water after asking if he wanted a picture of Moby Dick. That is a fishing trip that I will always remember and always puts a smile on my face.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
She's having my baby!
With all of the babies being born in the Mullins clan it got me thinking and remembering what it is like to be a first time Dad. There are so many emotions that are happening that it puts you into system overload. It is not just the birth. That is the one that is the strongest.
This rollercoaster ride started for me the two words I wanted to hear, “I’m late!” We had been trying to get pregnant for a year and it was just not happening. I even went to a specialist to see if there was a problem. I was elated but didn’t want to get my hopes up. We went and got a home pregnancy test and she did it right away. Positive! O-Kay, this is getting serious now. It is time for a visit to the doctor to confirm the results. The results came back, “Congratulations, your going to have a baby!” Hearing it from someone else made it really hit home. I’m going to be a Dad.
We went to the doctor for the ultra sound. The doctor put the warm gel on Melanie’s tiny flat stomach. “There it is” she said. It looked to me like a little peanut. “Well, what is it? Boy or Girl” I asked. It is still too early to see that. Now it was real. I could see that something was there. The next ultrasound we heard the heart beat. I was very excited.
Days, weeks and months passed and the excitement would come and go. I didn’t know how to be a Dad. Would I be a good Dad? Would the baby be normal? Would Melanie be o-Kay? All of these things were going through my thoughts. In the mean time, Melanie’s body was changing and she was having similar thoughts. There were way too many emotions happening in the apartment.
Then the big day came. We spent the day shopping and stopped off at Jason’s Deli for lunch. I ordered a large baked potato smothered with chili with beans. We got back home and Melanie started to nest. She took out all the baby clothes and held them up, give them a real good look and then fold them neatly to return to the dresser. She did this only to repeat the process again.
Twin Peaks was on the television (we never missed that show). Melanie went to the bathroom and then returned to watch the show and nest. A few minutes later, she got up again to got to the bathroom and then nested some more. This occurred a few more times until she started crying in the bathroom. “Honey, what’s wrong” I finally got it out of her. “I’m incontinent!” she cried. I called the answering service to page her doctor. A doctor called (not her doctor) and said I needed to get her to the hospital to be checked out.
I grabbed her packed bag and we headed out to the hospital. We arrived and the nurse took Melanie back right away. What was happening was her water broke but up high and it would leak out when she moved or the baby moved. It’s time we were told. Let the games begin! Phone calls were made to family and the nursing staff called the doctor.
We got settled in a room and family started to arrive. The room was crowded and getting loud. I asked the nurse if there was any way we could move these people out. “Time for an exam, everyone to the waiting room.” The room was quiet, except for the groans of labor pains. Then when Melanie’s head just about spun around, I asked the nurse for the epidural.
Into the room walks what appears to be a red headed freckle face kid of 13 years old. Melanie looked up and said “You’re the doctor?” “Have you ever done these before?” This is when the doctor replied “Well, this is my first time without the book.” I will state for the record that that is the worse time to be joking with a woman. I really thought she was going to get up out of the bed and strangle him! I assisted the doctor holding Melanie while he started the epidural. “Can we just get this started and quit talking?” I swear that is not the woman I married. “It’s done, you’ll fell better is just a second.”
Now we have calm to the high seas. Remember the potato I ate earlier? The beans are starting to work. I would excuse myself to the bathroom to get relief. Then come back and start “coaching” again. Until I heard those little words of love, “if you tell me how to breath one more time I’ll kill you!” Those classes were a big help, not!
The doctor comes into the room. Hey, that’s not our doctor. “Sorry, your doctor is in New York at the Governors’ Ball.” He delivers Ashley and lets me cut the cord. The nurses take the baby away to clean her up and make sure that she is doing fine. I stayed with Melanie to make sure she was good. The nurse brought Ashley over and Melanie held her for the first time. My eyes were watering and I was trying to hold it together.
I went down to the waiting room to tell the family of the birth of my precious baby girl. I look in the waiting room and my mother and mother-in-law are sitting next to each other. That is when it hit me. I started bawling like a baby. They both got up and started towards me. “What’s wrong?” they said in unison. I was crying so hard at this point I could hardly speak. Then I finally got it out. “She’s beautiful!”
That was the first time my daughter made me cry. It has not been the last and I know there are more tears to come. This is a rollercoaster of emotion called life. Welcome aboard!
This rollercoaster ride started for me the two words I wanted to hear, “I’m late!” We had been trying to get pregnant for a year and it was just not happening. I even went to a specialist to see if there was a problem. I was elated but didn’t want to get my hopes up. We went and got a home pregnancy test and she did it right away. Positive! O-Kay, this is getting serious now. It is time for a visit to the doctor to confirm the results. The results came back, “Congratulations, your going to have a baby!” Hearing it from someone else made it really hit home. I’m going to be a Dad.
We went to the doctor for the ultra sound. The doctor put the warm gel on Melanie’s tiny flat stomach. “There it is” she said. It looked to me like a little peanut. “Well, what is it? Boy or Girl” I asked. It is still too early to see that. Now it was real. I could see that something was there. The next ultrasound we heard the heart beat. I was very excited.
Days, weeks and months passed and the excitement would come and go. I didn’t know how to be a Dad. Would I be a good Dad? Would the baby be normal? Would Melanie be o-Kay? All of these things were going through my thoughts. In the mean time, Melanie’s body was changing and she was having similar thoughts. There were way too many emotions happening in the apartment.
Then the big day came. We spent the day shopping and stopped off at Jason’s Deli for lunch. I ordered a large baked potato smothered with chili with beans. We got back home and Melanie started to nest. She took out all the baby clothes and held them up, give them a real good look and then fold them neatly to return to the dresser. She did this only to repeat the process again.
Twin Peaks was on the television (we never missed that show). Melanie went to the bathroom and then returned to watch the show and nest. A few minutes later, she got up again to got to the bathroom and then nested some more. This occurred a few more times until she started crying in the bathroom. “Honey, what’s wrong” I finally got it out of her. “I’m incontinent!” she cried. I called the answering service to page her doctor. A doctor called (not her doctor) and said I needed to get her to the hospital to be checked out.
I grabbed her packed bag and we headed out to the hospital. We arrived and the nurse took Melanie back right away. What was happening was her water broke but up high and it would leak out when she moved or the baby moved. It’s time we were told. Let the games begin! Phone calls were made to family and the nursing staff called the doctor.
We got settled in a room and family started to arrive. The room was crowded and getting loud. I asked the nurse if there was any way we could move these people out. “Time for an exam, everyone to the waiting room.” The room was quiet, except for the groans of labor pains. Then when Melanie’s head just about spun around, I asked the nurse for the epidural.
Into the room walks what appears to be a red headed freckle face kid of 13 years old. Melanie looked up and said “You’re the doctor?” “Have you ever done these before?” This is when the doctor replied “Well, this is my first time without the book.” I will state for the record that that is the worse time to be joking with a woman. I really thought she was going to get up out of the bed and strangle him! I assisted the doctor holding Melanie while he started the epidural. “Can we just get this started and quit talking?” I swear that is not the woman I married. “It’s done, you’ll fell better is just a second.”
Now we have calm to the high seas. Remember the potato I ate earlier? The beans are starting to work. I would excuse myself to the bathroom to get relief. Then come back and start “coaching” again. Until I heard those little words of love, “if you tell me how to breath one more time I’ll kill you!” Those classes were a big help, not!
The doctor comes into the room. Hey, that’s not our doctor. “Sorry, your doctor is in New York at the Governors’ Ball.” He delivers Ashley and lets me cut the cord. The nurses take the baby away to clean her up and make sure that she is doing fine. I stayed with Melanie to make sure she was good. The nurse brought Ashley over and Melanie held her for the first time. My eyes were watering and I was trying to hold it together.
I went down to the waiting room to tell the family of the birth of my precious baby girl. I look in the waiting room and my mother and mother-in-law are sitting next to each other. That is when it hit me. I started bawling like a baby. They both got up and started towards me. “What’s wrong?” they said in unison. I was crying so hard at this point I could hardly speak. Then I finally got it out. “She’s beautiful!”
That was the first time my daughter made me cry. It has not been the last and I know there are more tears to come. This is a rollercoaster of emotion called life. Welcome aboard!
Friday, September 11, 2009
Anatomy Class Fart
I was watching my daughter Ashley the other day do her homework. One of the subjects was Human Anatomy. It brought back memories of nursing school and of an incident that occurred during class. I busted out laughing at the memory and I’m sure my family thought I was crazy.
I took my Anatomy class in the evenings. The professor’s name was Mr. T (His last name was too hard to pronounce). He was one of the best teachers that I had at San Antonio College. He kept things interesting. There were always lots of activities in class to make sure that the learning objectives were met.
We were studying the respiratory system and going over the different terms for lung volumes. Mr. T had a machine at the front of the class that would measure the volumes. He asked for a volunteer to come up and have the lung volumes measured. There was a petite young blonde that volunteered.
Mr. T explained the process. “You take in as much breath as you can and then blow into this tube forcing out as much air as you can as fast as you can.” The cute blonde smiled and said o-Kay. She took in a breath and blew it out through the tube. Mr. T looked at the read out and said his grandmother could do better than that! Not wanting to look bad in front of the class, she took in another deep breath and blew as hard as she could.
While she was blowing out her breath she was bearing down and the unthinkable happened. The class was all quiet. Mr. T looked around the class amazed. “Come on! You have to have heard that!” he shouted, barely able to contain himself. “She farted!” My buddy Jason and I lost it, as did everyone else in the class, except the blonde. She turned red and quietly walked back to her seat.
I’m not sure what life’s lesson is for this story. I’m just glad that she volunteered before I did. I got an A in that class, and a really great story.
I took my Anatomy class in the evenings. The professor’s name was Mr. T (His last name was too hard to pronounce). He was one of the best teachers that I had at San Antonio College. He kept things interesting. There were always lots of activities in class to make sure that the learning objectives were met.
We were studying the respiratory system and going over the different terms for lung volumes. Mr. T had a machine at the front of the class that would measure the volumes. He asked for a volunteer to come up and have the lung volumes measured. There was a petite young blonde that volunteered.
Mr. T explained the process. “You take in as much breath as you can and then blow into this tube forcing out as much air as you can as fast as you can.” The cute blonde smiled and said o-Kay. She took in a breath and blew it out through the tube. Mr. T looked at the read out and said his grandmother could do better than that! Not wanting to look bad in front of the class, she took in another deep breath and blew as hard as she could.
While she was blowing out her breath she was bearing down and the unthinkable happened. The class was all quiet. Mr. T looked around the class amazed. “Come on! You have to have heard that!” he shouted, barely able to contain himself. “She farted!” My buddy Jason and I lost it, as did everyone else in the class, except the blonde. She turned red and quietly walked back to her seat.
I’m not sure what life’s lesson is for this story. I’m just glad that she volunteered before I did. I got an A in that class, and a really great story.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Starry starry night
Have you ever had a hair brained idea? As kids we had them all the time. Sometimes we had to ask for permission and it was at that point we were told all the problems with the plan. That is why our Dad was so cool. Usually, if it wouldn’t cause any permanent damage he would let us do what ever it was we ask to do.
One such occasion was when we wanted to star gaze on a clear night when there were meteor showers expected. During the early 1970’s there were not many outside lights to interfere with the night sky. When there were no clouds to block the view, the stars went on for ever. I had no idea there were that many stars in the sky.
“Dad, can we watch the meteor shower tonight” we asked. “No problem” was the reply. “But we want to stay up all night and count the falling stars” “No problem.” “We want to spend the night on the roof!” “You want to do what?” I’m sure at that point Dad thought we had lost our minds.
Our house was not like the typical house here in the states. It was made entirely of concrete and the roof was flat. Dad thought about it for a few seconds. (I’m sure we caught him off guard) He started to run through his list; we don’t have a ladder to get up there. We don’t need one Dad. We use the wall to climb up. You might roll off in your sleep. We will make a pallet between the pipes that stick up. For every argument against it we managed to come up with an answer. We were very determined.
In the end we won out. As the sun started to set, the three boys started dragging blankets and pillows up the side of the house. I could only imagine what the neighbors were thinking. What are those Mullins boys up to now? The big surprise came when not only did the Mullins boys climb up to the roof, so did our Dad.
We lay up on the roof that night for hours with Dad, watching the falling stars and just talking about nothing. Dad would point out different stars, planets and UFO’s. When he knew we would be safe between the vent pipes, Dad climbed down and went inside with the girls. I’m not sure how soon after he climbed down we all fell asleep.
We woke in the morning safe and sound. Tossed the bedding off the roof and climbed down. We had counted more shooting stars than I ever knew existed. It was not long after that experience that Dad brought home a big book on astronomy. We would go through the book and point out things that we saw that night.
That was the first time we spent the night on the roof but not the last. It was just one of many hair brained ideas we were able to convince Dad into letting us do. That time spent with Dad that night was priceless.
One such occasion was when we wanted to star gaze on a clear night when there were meteor showers expected. During the early 1970’s there were not many outside lights to interfere with the night sky. When there were no clouds to block the view, the stars went on for ever. I had no idea there were that many stars in the sky.
“Dad, can we watch the meteor shower tonight” we asked. “No problem” was the reply. “But we want to stay up all night and count the falling stars” “No problem.” “We want to spend the night on the roof!” “You want to do what?” I’m sure at that point Dad thought we had lost our minds.
Our house was not like the typical house here in the states. It was made entirely of concrete and the roof was flat. Dad thought about it for a few seconds. (I’m sure we caught him off guard) He started to run through his list; we don’t have a ladder to get up there. We don’t need one Dad. We use the wall to climb up. You might roll off in your sleep. We will make a pallet between the pipes that stick up. For every argument against it we managed to come up with an answer. We were very determined.
In the end we won out. As the sun started to set, the three boys started dragging blankets and pillows up the side of the house. I could only imagine what the neighbors were thinking. What are those Mullins boys up to now? The big surprise came when not only did the Mullins boys climb up to the roof, so did our Dad.
We lay up on the roof that night for hours with Dad, watching the falling stars and just talking about nothing. Dad would point out different stars, planets and UFO’s. When he knew we would be safe between the vent pipes, Dad climbed down and went inside with the girls. I’m not sure how soon after he climbed down we all fell asleep.
We woke in the morning safe and sound. Tossed the bedding off the roof and climbed down. We had counted more shooting stars than I ever knew existed. It was not long after that experience that Dad brought home a big book on astronomy. We would go through the book and point out things that we saw that night.
That was the first time we spent the night on the roof but not the last. It was just one of many hair brained ideas we were able to convince Dad into letting us do. That time spent with Dad that night was priceless.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Funerals and Old friends
Why does it take a funeral or some other drastic event to bring old friends together? Or even family for that matter. I was reading the paper this morning and I always check the obituaries (just to make sure I’m not in there) and I saw a name that is familiar. Johnny Nance. So I read the obituary and I recognize one of the names, Lynette, his mother. I was almost certain. Then when my Dad called I knew it was his high school friend.
I had met Johnny Nance several times. It was usually due to an unfortunate circumstance, such as a funeral of parents. Now the old high school friends will get together once again only this time it is one of their own who will be laid to rest. After each of the previous occasions I would hear everyone tell each other that they shouldn’t wait to meet under these circumstances. Yet they always do.
This is yet another milestone in life. When your friends are dying of natural causes it should give cause to reflect on where you are at in life. Life is too short as it is and the circle is almost complete. Don’t wait until it’s too late.
In this day and age it is easy to keep in touch with old friends. There are cell phones with no long distance charges, e-mail, and the internet with many social network sites. If you haven’t kept in touch with your old friends, look them up and drop them a line. Chances are they still think about the good old days as well. Make the time to reconnect and slow down. Who knows, the next time the high school friends get together it might be you they are talking about.
I had met Johnny Nance several times. It was usually due to an unfortunate circumstance, such as a funeral of parents. Now the old high school friends will get together once again only this time it is one of their own who will be laid to rest. After each of the previous occasions I would hear everyone tell each other that they shouldn’t wait to meet under these circumstances. Yet they always do.
This is yet another milestone in life. When your friends are dying of natural causes it should give cause to reflect on where you are at in life. Life is too short as it is and the circle is almost complete. Don’t wait until it’s too late.
In this day and age it is easy to keep in touch with old friends. There are cell phones with no long distance charges, e-mail, and the internet with many social network sites. If you haven’t kept in touch with your old friends, look them up and drop them a line. Chances are they still think about the good old days as well. Make the time to reconnect and slow down. Who knows, the next time the high school friends get together it might be you they are talking about.
Friday, September 4, 2009
The $1500 question
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So your walking on a sidewalk at school and you look down. Something catches your eye. It looks like trash but it doesn't look like trash. You pick it up to examine it and then your eyes get very big. You start counting...$100....$200...$300.. $400.............$1000.............$1500! $1500 in a roll of cash. No one is around. It is the last bell of the day and your Mom is waiting to pick you up. What do you do? What......do......you.....do?
Well, if you are my son, you take the wad of cash to the school office and tell them you found this on the ground and maybe someone is looking for it. I'm so proud of him! He has been wanting a laptop computer and trying to figure out ways to get one and then all of that money just lands in his hands. He does the right thing and turns it in. I can't honestly say that I would have done that. I guess I'm raising him right. I'm not sure what happens to the money if no one claims it.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
C Rations
Summer on Okinawa was always a fun time for our family. Summer meant lots of free time to explore our surroundings and see just what is there for young boys to do. Our favorite pastime was to explore the boonies. We would spend countless hours running around and seeing where the trails led, or making our own trails. This really came in handy one afternoon.
Being around military all the time, we had had several occasions to have C rations. For those of you who have not had the pleasure to eat C rations, let me explain. The C ration is a food pack that was developed for the military for meals in the field. Today they are known as MRE, meals ready to eat. The MRE is in pouches while the old C ration came in cans. As kids, we loved them. It was like eating a gourmet meal.
The Marines would do survival training in the boonies that we played in. One day while we were out, we saw a small group of Marines setting up a make shift camp. What caught our eye were the cases of C rations that were being hidden in the tall grass. The men went to great lengths to conceal their treasure before going out on maneuvers. This was just too tempting for five young boys.
After the coast was clear, we crept into the grass and each grabbed a case. We backed out quietly and then made off with our treasure. Crystal cave was our destination. It was a cave that was not far from where we were. We spent a few minutes to examine the goods to see what we had. Now, it has been around 35 years and I can’t remember exactly what the meals were, but I do remember the excitement that came over all of us. There were cigarettes and gum in every box! We knew that we had to get more!
Silently we made it back to the make shift camp and grabbed another load and returned it to the cave. There was still several more cases left so one more trip would do the trick. We would have all the C rations to ourselves! On the last trip, we could hear the Marines returning to camp. We knew we had to hurry. Three cases, all that’s left. As we were backing out after grabbing the loot, a shout came from across the way “Drop it!”
Five boys turned around to see eight to ten Marines bearing down fast. We dropped the load and started to run. Surely they would not chase after us. Then we heard one exclaim “they took all of them! Get ‘um!” well, that is when we knew it was on. We had pissed off the Marines and we were running for our lives. Through the boonies, five boys being chased by a mob of angry trained Marines. And we were keeping ahead! “Split up!” my brother yelled. Three went one way and my brother and I went another.
We took the Marines on a guided tour of the boonies for about 20 minutes, and then they started to catch up. We knew we had to do something fast if we were going to get away. “The wall! We have to get to the wall!” I gasped. We made our way to what we called the wall. It was the back side of Futenma housing area. Okinawa is a coral formation and that’s what the wall is, a coral formation that goes straight up for about 80 to 90 feet then turns out on it self. Donnie went up first and I was close behind. As he got closer to the top he tracked off to the right where the formation still went straight. At this point the Marines were at the bottom cussing like sailors. I didn’t think I had time to track to the right so I just went for it. Straight up. I was hanging on out over the edge when I felt my brother reach down and grab my arm from above. He pulled me up and we looked over the Marines were down at the bottom looking up. Cursing, yelling and throwing anything they could get their hands on. We knew we had won. We laid down and taunted them from a safe distance. Laughing, calling them names, and spitting. I know not very nice, but hey, we’re kids.
Later that afternoon we met up with our partners in crime and they had escaped as well through a place we called hells hole (that’s a whole other story!). During the weeks ahead, we would meet up at crystal cave and partake in a feast of C rations.
I always find myself smiling as I reflect back on our adventure that summer day. There we were, five young boys going against all those Marines. Against all the odds, and we survived. I often wonder what story those Marines told of the events that occurred that day. I shudder at the thought of what they had to eat because their rations were absconded by a small group of youths.
Being around military all the time, we had had several occasions to have C rations. For those of you who have not had the pleasure to eat C rations, let me explain. The C ration is a food pack that was developed for the military for meals in the field. Today they are known as MRE, meals ready to eat. The MRE is in pouches while the old C ration came in cans. As kids, we loved them. It was like eating a gourmet meal.
The Marines would do survival training in the boonies that we played in. One day while we were out, we saw a small group of Marines setting up a make shift camp. What caught our eye were the cases of C rations that were being hidden in the tall grass. The men went to great lengths to conceal their treasure before going out on maneuvers. This was just too tempting for five young boys.
After the coast was clear, we crept into the grass and each grabbed a case. We backed out quietly and then made off with our treasure. Crystal cave was our destination. It was a cave that was not far from where we were. We spent a few minutes to examine the goods to see what we had. Now, it has been around 35 years and I can’t remember exactly what the meals were, but I do remember the excitement that came over all of us. There were cigarettes and gum in every box! We knew that we had to get more!
Silently we made it back to the make shift camp and grabbed another load and returned it to the cave. There was still several more cases left so one more trip would do the trick. We would have all the C rations to ourselves! On the last trip, we could hear the Marines returning to camp. We knew we had to hurry. Three cases, all that’s left. As we were backing out after grabbing the loot, a shout came from across the way “Drop it!”
Five boys turned around to see eight to ten Marines bearing down fast. We dropped the load and started to run. Surely they would not chase after us. Then we heard one exclaim “they took all of them! Get ‘um!” well, that is when we knew it was on. We had pissed off the Marines and we were running for our lives. Through the boonies, five boys being chased by a mob of angry trained Marines. And we were keeping ahead! “Split up!” my brother yelled. Three went one way and my brother and I went another.
We took the Marines on a guided tour of the boonies for about 20 minutes, and then they started to catch up. We knew we had to do something fast if we were going to get away. “The wall! We have to get to the wall!” I gasped. We made our way to what we called the wall. It was the back side of Futenma housing area. Okinawa is a coral formation and that’s what the wall is, a coral formation that goes straight up for about 80 to 90 feet then turns out on it self. Donnie went up first and I was close behind. As he got closer to the top he tracked off to the right where the formation still went straight. At this point the Marines were at the bottom cussing like sailors. I didn’t think I had time to track to the right so I just went for it. Straight up. I was hanging on out over the edge when I felt my brother reach down and grab my arm from above. He pulled me up and we looked over the Marines were down at the bottom looking up. Cursing, yelling and throwing anything they could get their hands on. We knew we had won. We laid down and taunted them from a safe distance. Laughing, calling them names, and spitting. I know not very nice, but hey, we’re kids.
Later that afternoon we met up with our partners in crime and they had escaped as well through a place we called hells hole (that’s a whole other story!). During the weeks ahead, we would meet up at crystal cave and partake in a feast of C rations.
I always find myself smiling as I reflect back on our adventure that summer day. There we were, five young boys going against all those Marines. Against all the odds, and we survived. I often wonder what story those Marines told of the events that occurred that day. I shudder at the thought of what they had to eat because their rations were absconded by a small group of youths.
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