Alabama

Too many volunteers? Or Too many cooks in the kitchen.

~ Ron Walker ~ 20 Comments

I was mowing a small section of the lawn Tuesday morning. It wasn’t real hot, but I hadn’t felt 100% for a couple of days. Didn’t take me 10 minutes, but it was really humid out there. I got through, came inside and checked my blood pressure and pulse. Pulse was 88bpm and I thought that was odd as I never run over 65-70 after exertion due to the meds they have me on to control my heartbeat. BP was slightly elevated. I decided to lay down for a nap. After an hour, I got up and felt awful. Shaky.

Pulse at that time was 120 and BP 191/102 way above normal for me (120/80). So even though I’m not one to complain, often waiting until it’s nearly too late to seek help, I decided to do it differently this time. I had Michelle call the paramedics to check me out since my heart felt funny and there was tightness in my chest and throat.

Keystone Medics, I’ll need a bigger yard.

Let me start by saying. I am a staunch supporter of medical personnel. They are the front-line defense in times of emergency. I am, however, very intolerant of inefficiency and stupidity. So I call it as I see it, as fairly as possible. I have blogged before regarding volunteer emergency services here in Alabama. I have given praise in the past and criticism as well if deserved. Sitting here, not feeling all that well, I did hear some of the traffic on the police scanner here on the desk. I thought it was a lot of chatter for one call to check out a person with chest pains, but didn’t think any more of it. I figured, either they like to talk a lot, or I must be a celebrity and didn’t know it. It sounded like an awful lot of radio traffic for one call. The first unit paramedic drove past the house which the address was plainly marked on the mail box by the driveway in 6-inch letters 4121. He thought the call was 4131, Michelle had to run outside and flag him back toward the house. Then the true Keystone syndrome kicked in. Three, count them, THREE ambulances arrive and fill the front yard. So we now have three ambulances and a paramedic truck. We told them on the phone it was chest pains, and that we needed a unit for assessment. So rational people would expect a medic unit and maybe one ambulance. However, the med units here also transport. Basically, I had four ambulances in the yard.

The men on the primary (first in the house) unit hooked me up and determined I was indeed in Atrial fibrillation status. Since I was ambulatory, and they didn’t transport to the city 10 miles from us, I opted to have Michelle drive me.

12 guys standing around.

I thought perhaps having moved some miles from our last residence close to a small city with it’s own fire department I wouldn’t be seeing volunteer units racing to each and every call. Apparently being just outside the city limits, we fall into the first arrive, first paid category. I have mentioned before, volunteer fire units get around $32 each time a member rolls and arrives at a call. So anyone and everyone within fuel tank range apparently decided to try to collect on my single medical call. What if, someone several miles away, had been in cardiac arrest or had a limb amputated and had to wait for one of these speed racers to leave my residence and get to them. I mean, really. Three ambulances and a paramedic unit that doubles as an ambulance for one call? Anyhow, once I was checked out, Michelle and I thanked everyone, which took a while with about 12 guys standing around. The neighbors next door came over. We rarely see them, but I guess it looked like a mass shooting might have occurred and people love to gossip.

I would then begin the adventure in the hospital that was overcrowded, but that will be the next post. Gives me a little something for post material, and keeps this one from being so long. Suffice it to say, I am back home after a 26-hour stay at the large hospital in the capital city, 10 miles from here. I’m fine now with the Atrial fibrillation under control but just worn out.

On the bright side, the “Chaplain Truck” didn’t show up. I might have suffered a cardiac event at the sight.

Correction: Michelle says there was a tanker fire truck and another paramedic truck. Total of 6 units in the yard.

“Pepe” The Rescue Chihuahua.

~ Ron Walker ~ 8 Comments
Pepe

“Pepe”, is our new rescue. A long haired Chihuahua breed that may be as old as 16. Michelle received a call from someone in the trailer park where we lived about Pepe and his pending doom.

It seems Pepe belongs to the elderly lady that everyone calls Granny. After suffering a stroke recently, her daughter has offered to let her live with them. Pepe however, could not go with Granny. Granny has been the owner of Pepe for about seven years. It was not known how old he may have been when she acquired him, but they say he was quite old.

Sad that no one wants an older dog. Sad that an elderly person has to let go of a companion she’s had for seven years. If a home was not found for Pepe soon, the daughter was going to surrender Pepe to the pound, where he would most likely be put to sleep due to his age. We knew Pepe from hearing him out in his yard. Pepe has a screeching cry when he wants to come back in. My first impression when we moved there, was someone was torturing a dog.

Granny was about to cry when we picked up Pepe from her. She sent his small round bed and some food, and a sign that a granddaughter had made for Pepe. Of course, the cutest part was the misspelling of his name by a child. I’m afraid I was about to have tears appear myself while the exchange was taking place. We promised to let her come see him anytime since we are going to allow him to become a permanent part of our pet family. We grew attached to him just seeing him on walks when he would run to the fence to greet us.

So we packed his bed, and Tupperware container of food she wanted to send with him, and the sign.

Pepe is fitting right in with everyone else in the household. He doesn’t seem upset, but that is the way dogs are. I’m sure he is sad and confused not seeing Granny. He curls up on Annabelle’s bed if he gets there first. Something about seeing a small fluffy dog in her Great Dane bed, doesn’t impress her.

It’s great he is fitting in, no snapping or food aggression. He does however have the habit of giving out his howl around three am each night. That will sure wake you from a good slumber. He just wants to get in bed with you. I can forgive him that, after what he is going through. Granny had mentioned the three am habit, but I took the remark as some levity to avoid crying. She was correct, he has an internal clock for three am.

Comments, always welcome.

Livestreaming for fun.

~ Ron Walker ~ 18 Comments

I have always wanted to set up a camera, just to watch different birds up close. Now, I can share the birds with those that enjoy just watching them. Of course, a recording of the live stream will be on YouTube as well, for those that enjoy watching small birds work on their nest. I set the camera up this morning, Starting when she left the nest, it took about 15 minutes to install the webcam. As soon as I was through and back in the office, she reappeared working steadily.

This little bird (I think a sparrow?) has been working all morning. The previous owners said they removed the nest several times during the year, but they keep rebuilding it each time. There is another nest built in the opposite corner of the porch roof about 8 feet away. It is about three inches taller. When we moved here it had five eggs in it. Apparently unfertilized and left by the previous occupant that season.

It’s a Monday morning, sunny and a pleasant 57F. I think I am going to enjoy watching this little family grow. As I said, bird identifications is not my forte, so if anyone knows what type this is, please let me know. I’m guessing a sparrow. I may add a small paper or plastic ruler to the wall above the nest to give some sense of size.

The view will cycle from time to time, but always have a small view of the birds, until something interesting occurs. Most of the time, it will be the little bird.

For fun, suggest a name for the nest, and bird if you’d like. Subscribe, if you’d like to know when the feed goes live each time.

Comments, always welcomed.

No damn peace anywhere, anymore.

~ Ron Walker ~ 27 Comments

Blame it on the pandemic, blame the solar winds. Hell, blame it on the chem trails, or maybe Karma finally located my forwarding address. What ever it is, it just seems to follow me at times.

Our neighborhood is a quiet one. There is an area about a mile away that is a little, shall we say, different. Working class and retirees live here in our neighborhood. Our only difference, is we live on the corner leading into our neighborhood which is the corner of two well travelled roads. Therefore, if you break down, or you’re up to mischief, this is very convenient to you.

Last night, around 8pm, the dogs in the entryway went crazy barking. I was relaxing and watching TV. They were highly agitated, and I heard a light knocking on the door. I asked through the door who it was. A male voice said he needed some help. The dogs were crowded right behind me growling. Thinking anyone up to no good would have been wary of doing anything bad after hearing such large dogs, I opened the door a little. There is a super strong security/storm door with shatterproof glass next.

There stood a black male, about 5’7″ around 30-40 years of age. Stocky with a thick jacket on, and a beanie type cap. He said his woman had put him out on the road, and he needed a ride home. I couldn’t tell if he was crazy, drunk, high, or just slow in the head. He seemed out of sorts. I told him I couldn’t give him a ride anywhere. Then he asked if he could come in and use my phone. I told him I was sorry, but no he needed to leave, or I could call 911 and get him some help. He stepped out into the yard, and I closed the door.

He returned and knocked on the door again while I was standing there. I told him he needed to leave my property, that I was calling 911 to get him a ride. He then reached out and grabbed the handle to the security door, trying to open it. I told him to step back, or the dogs would eat him. I called 911 while standing there, and he reached in his left jacket pocket. Of course, I’m that guy… My hand went to the small of my back where I carry my weapon when I answer the door.

I gripped the handle just in case he pulled out a weapon. He pulls out a damn cell phone, that is when the hair on my neck stood up. He was just possibly trying to get entry to the house through the pretense of needing a phone. I think he was just mentally loose in the head or really high on something. No criminal would try to force their way into a home with three large dogs snarling ahead of them. Plus, a wary criminal would have noticed me reaching around behind my back.

While waiting for the Police to arrive, which only took about two minutes. He looked around the porch moving a shutter there that was leaning against the wall waiting to be painted, as if looking for something he might like. Upon the arrival of the Police, they informed me that they recognized him when they pulled up, they had dealt with him before. They left with him and that ended the night of excitement. Naturally, the security cam for the porch had died a week before and not been replaced yet. So we can’t share any video of that crazy moment.

It seems nowhere is free from trouble. I just want to relax. On the bright side, it may never happen again. But who knows. I will be getting another camera up on the porch, pronto.

Comments always welcome.