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Ian drove while Erin sat in the back and completed her SAMPLE history. At the hospital she gave the report, then, "She has a full bottle of Prednisone filled two weeks ago next to a half full one filled a month and a half ago. Toast was buring in the toaster when we arrived, the smoke detector didn't go off, and it took her close to five minutes to find the coat closet when we went to leave. Lives alone, apparently a son drops by to deliver meds, including an OTC epi inhaler. I've had her three or four times since New Year's."
"I'll tell the social worker," Anne signed the run report
"That's all in the report. Thanks," she said as Anne handed back the report. Erin left behind the pink hospital copy and joined Ian in the Truck.
"I didn't offend you giving the report?"
"No. You knew her."
"Laura always flips if I get involved with patient care when its her day to tech. Ready for lunch?"
"Yeah." Ian punched up their numbers from the MDT and filled in the rest of the ACR, but his thoughts drifted back to the essence of the call. Erin had done a good job of trying to lay it all out in the report. A nursing home would just add to her confusion, but clearly she was no longer able to take care of herself. "You haven't seen any live in care around here, have you?" he asked Erin.
Erin paused to squeeze past a double parked 18-wheeler before answering. "Live in care? No. Not unless its a family member. Mrs Leonardowitz . . ." she trailed off. "They're closed."
Closed for good. The Top Hill Diner sat cold and empty with two new signs posted next to the advertised specials. "Death in Family," one read, "Closing our Doors." "For Rent," read the other, with a local phone number.
"Not even a thank you for years of customer support," Ian was suddenly very angry. He hadn't realised how much he had wanted his number two special until it was denied him. They crisped their bacon without shrivelling it. Done right every time. "Why can't one thing go right today? Why can't we just get a decent two egg special with toast, home fries, and bacon? For Chris' sake, it's not that complicated," he tossed the clipboard onto the dash. "Let's see what else is open," he said tiredly. Then he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
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Friday, April 2, 2010
To be a pet, or not.
I often wonder/worry about my cats' happiness as pets. I worry more about this with Christian, since he was a stray into his adult life and so has some perspective on this - he knows what he has lost, and what he has gained, in the transition from stray to pet. Shadow, of course, has been with me since she was three month old, and so never had a chance to experience the outside world on her own.
The tally, as I understand it, is this:
Pros of being a pet:
- food is provided twice a day
- clean water is always available
- no predators
- no bad weather, aside from occasional thunder (which may be scary but can't hurt them)
- no cars
I don't add things like veterinary care, since I doubt that they understand its significance.
Cons of being a pet:
- severely constrained roaming area, with
- little to chase
- only one other cat to interact with
- no sex (though they're both neutered/spayed/fixed)
- sometimes a little too much interaction with the resident human (I'm happy to pick them up, pet them, etc a bit more than they're happy to be picked up, petted, etc. But I'm learning to read them and there haven't been any altercations.)
I think there was one other thing, but I forget what it was for the moment. And in any case, the real point of this post is this: when I open the door to enter or exit the apartment, even though they often look out the door (which leads directly into the outside world), they never try to escape. I realized the significance of this only this week, when it occurred to me that that was their vote: to stay as a pet. Which makes me happy.
The tally, as I understand it, is this:
Pros of being a pet:
- food is provided twice a day
- clean water is always available
- no predators
- no bad weather, aside from occasional thunder (which may be scary but can't hurt them)
- no cars
I don't add things like veterinary care, since I doubt that they understand its significance.
Cons of being a pet:
- severely constrained roaming area, with
- little to chase
- only one other cat to interact with
- no sex (though they're both neutered/spayed/fixed)
- sometimes a little too much interaction with the resident human (I'm happy to pick them up, pet them, etc a bit more than they're happy to be picked up, petted, etc. But I'm learning to read them and there haven't been any altercations.)
I think there was one other thing, but I forget what it was for the moment. And in any case, the real point of this post is this: when I open the door to enter or exit the apartment, even though they often look out the door (which leads directly into the outside world), they never try to escape. I realized the significance of this only this week, when it occurred to me that that was their vote: to stay as a pet. Which makes me happy.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Richmond Rail Heist #2-9
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NOTE: This entry follows entry #8
The two Southerners disappeared into the church, leaving the three Northerners alone to continue east toward Chattanooga. Some minutes later the road turned into a wood, sheltering them from the sun, and soon after they heard a horse coming up behind them. They turned to face the rider, who was hidden in the trees.
“You remember seeing a horse in that village?” Rufus asked.
“No,” said Will. “But that doesn’t mean there weren’t any.”
Jones said that there might have one in the barn, and for a minute or two conversation devolved into a discussion of whether there had been a barn at all, with Jones swearing that there had been, Rufus sure that there had only been houses and the church, and Will unable to remember. “Well, here he comes, whoever he is,” he said as the rider began to appear through the trees.
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GLOSSARY
NOTE: This entry follows entry #8
The two Southerners disappeared into the church, leaving the three Northerners alone to continue east toward Chattanooga. Some minutes later the road turned into a wood, sheltering them from the sun, and soon after they heard a horse coming up behind them. They turned to face the rider, who was hidden in the trees.
“You remember seeing a horse in that village?” Rufus asked.
“No,” said Will. “But that doesn’t mean there weren’t any.”
Jones said that there might have one in the barn, and for a minute or two conversation devolved into a discussion of whether there had been a barn at all, with Jones swearing that there had been, Rufus sure that there had only been houses and the church, and Will unable to remember. “Well, here he comes, whoever he is,” he said as the rider began to appear through the trees.
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Tuesday, March 30, 2010
STO'B 4-14 Dr M'Mullen
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last episode with Captain Fitton
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He held onto the crate and considered. The Spanish frigate continued to trade shots with the English brigs, and it was apparent even to him that both sides had scored some important shots. One of Badger’s upper masts leaned drunkenly; a horizontal mast, or spar, or yard aboard the other English brig hung crookedly; and turning to his left he saw that the Spaniard’s sails, peeking above clouds of white smoke, now contained several holes. None of the ships were particularly close.
Behind him and to his right lay the ruined mole, with the beach a bit further on. Some crumbling steps led from the water up to the mole. A low hum and a sudden splash not many yards away brought him back to the present: whatever the solution was, staying here was not it. “Si Dios quiere,” he told the cat, following that observation with some of the choicer oaths of his teenaged years when a cannonball smashed into the water behind him, sending up a geyser that collapsed onto his head.
Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next
last episode with Captain Fitton
GLOSSARY
last episode with Captain Fitton
GLOSSARY
He held onto the crate and considered. The Spanish frigate continued to trade shots with the English brigs, and it was apparent even to him that both sides had scored some important shots. One of Badger’s upper masts leaned drunkenly; a horizontal mast, or spar, or yard aboard the other English brig hung crookedly; and turning to his left he saw that the Spaniard’s sails, peeking above clouds of white smoke, now contained several holes. None of the ships were particularly close.
Behind him and to his right lay the ruined mole, with the beach a bit further on. Some crumbling steps led from the water up to the mole. A low hum and a sudden splash not many yards away brought him back to the present: whatever the solution was, staying here was not it. “Si Dios quiere,” he told the cat, following that observation with some of the choicer oaths of his teenaged years when a cannonball smashed into the water behind him, sending up a geyser that collapsed onto his head.
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last episode with Captain Fitton
GLOSSARY
Monday, March 29, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
STO'B 4-13 Dr M'Mullen
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last episode with Captain Fitton
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As soon as he hit the water, Patrick realised that this might not be such as good idea. The Badger, which had looked small from on deck (and positively diminutive alongside the Viceroy) now loomed over him, looking unnaturally large and shrouded in smoke. The Spaniard, now only a few dozen yard away, looked if anything bigger. She was also wreathed in smoke, and as Patrick looked at her something blinked orange and stirred in the heart of the grey-white cloud, raced across the water and vanished over Patrick’s head.
He kicked powerfully, flapping his arms and heaving himself out of the water as he looked around. The cat stood on a crate perhaps 40 yards away, scrambling to stay dry as the box pitched and heaved. “I’ll be lucky not to get a face full of claws,” Patrick said as he swam over, stopping perhaps a yard from the animal, whose increasingly panicked movements were causing the box to rock with increasing violence. “Perhaps if I simply push the crate over to the ship, or the shore,” he said. “Who could I possibly be talking to?”
He reached out and touched the box, then grasped it more firmly, steadying it. The cat, no longer threatened with falling into the water and instant dissolution, sat at the far end of the crate and stared at him. It was solid black, its pupils were wide open, making its eyes black as well, and its tail thrashed from side to side. It would have nothing to do with an offered finger, merely shuffling further away from Patrick, who gave up after one attempt. “Well,” he said, looking around and finding the Badger at last, “I suppose I’ll have to get you aboard, though I confess I have no idea how to do so.”
Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next
last episode with Captain Fitton
GLOSSARY
last episode with Captain Fitton
GLOSSARY
As soon as he hit the water, Patrick realised that this might not be such as good idea. The Badger, which had looked small from on deck (and positively diminutive alongside the Viceroy) now loomed over him, looking unnaturally large and shrouded in smoke. The Spaniard, now only a few dozen yard away, looked if anything bigger. She was also wreathed in smoke, and as Patrick looked at her something blinked orange and stirred in the heart of the grey-white cloud, raced across the water and vanished over Patrick’s head.
He kicked powerfully, flapping his arms and heaving himself out of the water as he looked around. The cat stood on a crate perhaps 40 yards away, scrambling to stay dry as the box pitched and heaved. “I’ll be lucky not to get a face full of claws,” Patrick said as he swam over, stopping perhaps a yard from the animal, whose increasingly panicked movements were causing the box to rock with increasing violence. “Perhaps if I simply push the crate over to the ship, or the shore,” he said. “Who could I possibly be talking to?”
He reached out and touched the box, then grasped it more firmly, steadying it. The cat, no longer threatened with falling into the water and instant dissolution, sat at the far end of the crate and stared at him. It was solid black, its pupils were wide open, making its eyes black as well, and its tail thrashed from side to side. It would have nothing to do with an offered finger, merely shuffling further away from Patrick, who gave up after one attempt. “Well,” he said, looking around and finding the Badger at last, “I suppose I’ll have to get you aboard, though I confess I have no idea how to do so.”
Author's Note|First Post|Previous|Next
last episode with Captain Fitton
GLOSSARY
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
The parts of a rotating light
top: the fully assembled light, showing the light, its power cord, and a mirror to be used when the light is mounted in the windshield or rear window.
middle: the light with the mirror removed and set aside.
bottom: the light with the green dome removed, revealing the electric motor in the front, the incandescent lamp in the center, and the rotating reflector toward the back. The incandescent lamp remains fixed in place while the reflector revolves around it, creating a rotating beam of light.
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