After The Deadliest Catch
After last night’s Deadliest Catch I have a better idea of what Captain Phil Harris has going on. Screw all the erroneous reports online, the clouds broke yesterday. Short of hearing the doctor actually saying “this is what happened”, from what they showed on DC, it was a thromboembolism as I mentioned last week. No punctured lung (as originally, widely reported), no broken ribs, no heart attack. And for those who are batting around crazy ideas of what’s going on, let me put this is simple terms:
In Phil’s case, it would appear that he had thromboemboli that traveled to his lungs, which then led to the symptoms described for a pulmonary embolism last week. (There is a difference between a thromboembolism and a pulmonary embolism, but for space’s sake, I ask you to Google). Whether it was a PE or a thrombo is sort of academic. Once that clot hits the lungs, life is hell. Nobody feels good.
Is my take 100% accurate? No, because I was neither the nurse on duty or even in attendance nor did any doctor jump on screen and say “this is the deal, folks.” Speculation is a terrible thing, but some of the things I’ve read online are so wildly wrong, it’s frightening that those spreading the info claim to be medical professionals. I risk adding to the misinformation highway by stating what it SOUNDS like happened, but at least my terminology is correct and the cause and effect are logical. Not so with much of what I’ve read other places.
I’ve watched the episode four times now and I can only go on what Phil said to Murray on the phone. He tells Murray the doc says a clot broke free from a vessel in his leg, traveled through his heart, and landed in his lung. That’s what he said and that’s a far cry from some of the other theories I’ve read. For all the “pulmonary aneurysm” theorists out there, just…no. M’kay? PA’s are rare, PE’s are not. And every PE patient I’ve had presented with most of Phil’s symptoms. As was said last night on the show, Phil hitting the table was just some other terrible thing that happened. No broken ribs or punctured lungs or aneurysms or…
Moving on, sorta.
My heart ached for the Harris boys men boys as they waited and worried. Their exhaustion is common among families. At a long distance, it’s intensified. You’re not there, you don’t see what’s going on, you can’t ask the docs and nurses all the questions you have. You’re adrift at sea. Even when families are IN THE ROOM, the confusion and stress and uncertainty cause comprehension skills to fall. Plus, you’re talking about medical issues that most people aren’t familiar with. As a nurse, I get it when I’m standing next to the doctor and the patient, but make that patient a family member and I get a little stupid. That’s what love does to us. It’s normal.
Jake and Josh, and even Murray and the rest of the crew handled this quite well. Murray, you have my vote for most level-headed in an emergency. Great instinct and common sense, too. When it comes time to decide whether or not to pull the plug on me, my family should call you.
On the North American, Capt. Sten’s deck is essentially gone and he heads in for repairs. Costly, but necessary. The deckhands get a break.
The Time Bandit’s Johnathan and Andy Hillstrand take on a greenhorn since brother Neal is off the deck for good. It’s a blessing and a curse. One one hand, it’s fresh blood and crab fishing is a young man’s game, or so someone says. On the other hand, the newbie has to learn the ins and outs of the boat. Of course, he lucked out and ended up on a vessel with a sauna.
The Northwestern tackled a lost anchor and almost upended the boat trying to retrieve it. Watching the Hansen brothers work together is something to see. Sig owns the wheelhouse and Edgar owns the deck. End of discussion. Honestly, I think family get-togethers could be sort of scary if one crossed into the other’s territory. “Edgar, I told you I was handing out the presents. Go sit your ass down now!” “Sig, if you don’t get these damn chaturbate cameras off my ass, it’ll be yours in a sling in two seconds!”
On the Wizard, Capt. Keith finally fired Moi and picked up new deckhand Cooper, who brings the superstitious skipper Cup-O-Noodles. There was also a big ass leak on board, which didn’t make the trip any easier for anyone.
Sadly, I don’t remember much about what happened with the Early Dawn, even after seeing the latest episode lo these many times. It’s not that I don’t love them, it’s just not their turn, I guess. Soon, gentlemen, soon.
After The Catch also proved to be as fascinating as it usually is. Coast Guard rescue helicopter pilot Laura Guth was, for me, the highlight of the episode. Her rescue of the crew from the Alaskan Monarch a few years back has been featured on Deadliest Catch, After The Catch, Savages Seas, and a few of those extreme video shows. As she stated, there’s a lot of training these pilots endure to be able to navigate their way safely to, over, and from rescue sites, but nothing prepared her for that particular rescue. The ever-present Mike Rowe asked her how she keeps her “poop in a group” (best line of the show) in such situations, to which she replied, it’s all in the training and compartmentalization. Rescue workers and medical professionals will tell you this is the only way to survive what they do. If we lost it during a rescue or at the bedside or in the OR, we’ve lost the big battle to save a life.
Before and after Guth appears, the men talk about accidents and near-disasters, which makes us landlubbers glad to be safely here at home. Lost thumbs, tank dives, watching brother/son/father in peril and not being able to do anything is enough to make most of us weak in the knees. Johnathan Hillstrand sounded shaky as he recalled his son’s close call this season.
And that brings me back to something I started to say last week and then said again earlier this week. In addition to being a captain on a fishing vessel in the Vast Bering Sea (Mike Rowe!), most of these men are watching family toil on the decks. In Johnathan’s case, and in Phil’s case, too, they’re also parents trying to let their s grow and let them go. But they get caught in that trap in which most of us parents find ourselves entangled: it doesn’t matter how old our ren are, they’re still our . The responsibility to provide for them, to keep them safe, to ease their way in life is something we carry with us forever. It doesn’t just stop the day they turn 18 or 21 or 35 or even 60. You worry. And they can still drive you absolutely nuts and make you want to strangle them. Imagine juggling those emotions with the major task of navigating dangerous waters in harrowing weather. It ain’t easy, man.
Earlier tonight at our weekly cruiser event, we got to talking about Deadliest Catch. We can’t go anywhere these days without someone mentioning the show. No, LD was not wearing his cap. It just came up. (The addiction is spreading across generations.) Anyone who brought up the last few episodes talked about the inner conflicts these skippers must feel with family on board and chasing the crab. And they all said they can’t eat crab without thinking of these men.
Speaking of cruise night, I was deeply insulted tonight over my camera. I was told by someone “when you’re ready to graduate to REAL gear…” Harumph! I don’t have disposable income like this guy does and said so. I also explained that the “pro” gear is currently too heavy for me and too big for my hands. I’ve put my money into good lenses. He was still rude. Meanie. I’m okay with what I have. Just thought it was poor form for a professsssssssssssional to put me down without knowing my budget, skills, not to mention never having seen any of my work. So there!
Okay, bedtime for me. We’re going to attempt a run to the fair tomorrow after we hit Pricecostcoclub and dodge the Christmas decorations that are ALREADY out. You heard that right. Mofos just can’t seem to keep that crap under wraps until after Labor Day anymore. Soon we’ll have to work our way around the 24/7/365 displays that are about two years away yet. Mark my words…
One last aside: why do these posts always end up so damn long? I did say, once upon a time, that I was NOT obsessed. Doesn’t look that way from where I’m reading. Whatev.
Matilda the Hun
I guess it was the fever, or perhaps the repeats of Roseanne while I couldn't sleep, but I got to thinking about some of the people I met when I worked retail many years ago. One of the most memorable of those folks was none other than Matilda the Hun aka Queen Kong.
Matilda the Hun aka Queen KongFor the uninitiated, Matilda the Hun (which is how she introduced herself to me) wrestled for the Glorious Women of Wrestling (G.L.O.W.). Now, I've never been a fan of wrestling, but I was absolutely fascinated by this redheaded Amazon in the brightly colored tights who stood before me. Yes, she shopped in "uniform".
It was sheer luck that I was manning the register that day. I was supposed to be at lunch, but one of my cashiers had snuck out early, along with half the sales staff. It didn't much matter to me. It was a quiet day and I was caught up on credit application processing, account reconciliations, and all the other managerial tasks I had each day.
So, there I was, standing at the register and organizing the work area when Matilda the Hun arrived. She had a small group of people with her (it was the 80s and the height of wrestling excitement) and made her way through the store. When she finished selecting her merchandise, the group approached me. Since we were basically the only people in the jasminlive store, we had plenty of time to talk. And talk we did. I still remember her laughter and the way her hair caught the sunlight through the windows at the front of the store. Red hair does that, you know.
Anyhow, there's a small snapshot of my past life. And for the record, Matilda aka Queen Kong was never on Roseanne. That was Dot Jones as The Black Widow. Again, it's probably the fever making these weird connections, but they make sense to me.
And, yes, I know...she's also well-known in fetish circles as Queen Adrena.
Only In San Diego
Blame Mrs. Smash for sending this to me! (My comments are in the parentheses, of course.)
Only in San Diego...
Your high school had a surf team. (My high school yearbook included a photo of actual underwater basketweaving, too.)
You can correctly pronounce Tierrasanta, La Jolla, Rancho Penasquitos, San Ysidro, Otay Mesa, Jamacha, Jamul, Cuyamaca, and El Cajon.
There are four distinct seasons: Summer, Not Quite Summer, Almost Summer, and Oh Hey Look Its Summer Again.
Chula-juana is a real town.
Your house is worth more than some small countries. (Or one month's rent is equal to a year's worth of house payments anywhere else.)
You know what MB, OB, and PB stand for. (Not to mention IB.)
Every street name is either in Spanish or Spanish related, and you're surprised when other areas don't have this. (Except for new developments, where they insist on cutesy names like Fox something or other.)
You can determine the accuracy of someone's "I'm ghetto" claim by knowing their high school. For example, El Camino High School or Crawford High School.
You see weather forecasts for four different climate zones in the same county, and aren't remotely surprised. The Micro Climate Weather (a common phrase for local "meteorologists", and a true necessity when you consider San Diego county -- which is the approximate size of Connecticut -- has something like 13 of the 17 world climates).
You've gone to Mt. Helix in July and known you still need a jacket. (Same can be said for Mt. Soledad quite often, especially if you aren't walking around. And don't even get me started on how hot it gets up in the MOUNTAIN mountains. It's inversion layers and other such stuff.)
You've tailgated at Qualcomm Stadium, and for jasminelive bonus points, also tailgated when it was Jack Murphy Stadium. (I have more experience with Jack Murphy days than the Q, but I still get the points.)
You have a favorite -- the WAP or the Zoo. (Or you claim a bit of each because they're both so unique.)
You've been on a field trip to see an Imax movie at the Reuben H. Fleet Science Center. (I get bonus points because I've been going there since it was the "Space" center.)
You still call it the Del Mar Fair. (Yep, just like I still call Costco "Price Club".)
You say "I'm going to the track" and people know what you mean. (Or you say "I'm going to Del Mar" and people also know what you mean.)
You understand what May Gray and June Gloom are. (And then there's July Fry with a dash of pepper. Don't ask. Just nod and pretend you get the joke.)
A famous skateboarder/surfer lives in your town. (Or you know local musicians who also dabble in skate/surf, or who have achieved world fame and yet you sit around drinking beer with them because they're just living the life of a San Diegan.)
There's a North County, a South County, and an East County but no Central County. (And you know it doesn't matter because "central" San Diego is so...)
"Mossy Nissan! Mossy Nissan! Mossy Nissan Moves You!" (As much as that sticks in your head, all you really want to do is punch Forbes Riley in the nose because she's so obnoxious in those Mor commercials.)
You know what it means when two guys are walking in Hillcrest. (And you don't really care. It's the guy with the ginormous lobe expanders and the spike through the nose that makes you look. But only on occasion.)
You know what it means when a girl in a short skirt is walking on El Cajon Blvd. (And you don't really care. Unless she's your sister/mom/best friend.)
You've been stuck in the Horton Plaza parking structure traffic after a Padres game. (Or Hazard Center, Mission Valley, Fashion Valley, or just about anywhere remotely near Petco Park or Qualcomm Stadium.)
You know what "The Merge" is, and will plan your entire day around not being on it during rush hour. (That goes double for "The Split". Or you know all the ever-changing backroads between your house and wherever you need to get to avoid the traffic...or worse still, you leave extra early and hang out wherever you're going just so you won't be stuck in traffic.)
You've been to Belmont Park. (Bonus points if you remember Jeff and Jer's Whirl til You Hurl contest on the Big Dipper. Nobody expected it to last as long as it did.)
You've taken the Coaster and laughed at people sitting in traffic on the 5. (I admit to never having done this. It's shameful. Truly shameful. But in my defense, I don't live on the coast and the Coaster doesn't go where I need to go anyway.)
You know the difference between Clairemont Mesa, Kearny Mesa, and Mira Mesa -- and maybe you remember Serra Mesa, too! (I have friends who live there.)
You've gone to Sea World on a warm day and sat in the first few rows at the Shamu Show to get cooled off. (And then spent the next hour freezing because a strong breeze suddenly whipped up.)
You've been delayed at the Border Checkpoints on the 5 and the 15. (Or half your patients complain about the wait.)
There are more bands than people. (And it's hard to get people out to see the great local talent, thereby making it harder for the musicians to make money or get booked.)
Your house doesn't have air conditioning. (Or it does and you rarely run it because it costs too much or causes a rolling "gray" out.)
You know it's San Diegan, not San Diegoan, or San Diegoite. (And some of the worst of us offenders will call each other "Sand Dogs".)
Everyone has their favorite beach. (And it will differ depending on whether or not you have s with you.)
No matter what the weather is, there is always someone walking around in a t-shirt, shorts, and flip flops. (Don't forget the baseball cap.)
You live on, near or are surrounded by hills. (Yep.)
You hate tourists and their bad driving. GET OFF THE ROAD NORTH DAKOTA, NOBODY WANTS YOU HERE. SERIOUSLY. GO HOME. (Well...not North Dakota. It's that bimbo in the Lexus SUV who bugs the shit outta me.)
You have family and or friends who have moved to Arizona. (And it's like they moved to a different country.)
You used to, and sometimes still do ride the carousel at Seaport Village. (Whaddya looking at? You gotta problem with that?)
You know someone who doesn't own pants, and have a neighbor who doesn't seem to own a shirt. (And then there are the guys!)
You know what Santa Anas are, and that they have literally nothing to do with the city of Santa Ana. (You hate Santa Anas with a passion because they make everyone cranky.)
If the menu doesn't have California burritos on it, forget it, it's not real Mexican food. (And you don't blink twice when you see fish tacos listed either.)
If you're NOT from San Diego...That sucks. (Not really, but we are pretty damn lucky.)
Health Update
It's been a long time since I gave an update on what's going on with my back and such. There are many other things going on in my life, too. Family health issues, etc. Plus, it all ties in to my "case" and that means other problems and I hate doing nothing but yammer about the bad stuff. I guess I feel like a whiner when I do this, so I haven't blogged about it much.
Anyway, here's the thing...
I've seen the QME (qualified medical examiner) and he's ordered another MRI. My regular doc isn't doing anything to uncover the cause of my lower and mid back pain or to treat it, declaring she's done all she can and I'm just going to have to live with it. Um, not so much, hon. When I can barely get to the bathroom sometimes because of the weakness and/or pain, when I can barely GO to the bathroom, when I can't sleep...don't you think there's something significant going on? I do. And so does every other doctor I've seen. But the insurance company is only listening to the main doc. Until now.
So, the QME is stepping up to the plate. The insurance company has to go with what the QME orders. And yet, despite a year of my doc dragging her heels, they're cutting off payment (as is permissible by law, and completely, morally unconscionable if you ask me).
I'm trying to keep from stressing about this too much. Stress and back injuries do not mix well. But it weighs on my mind.
Can I go back to any sort of real work yet? No. Anything that requires me to have a schedule, requires focus and clarity of thought isn't practical at this time. I can't predict when I will have flare ups. I can't predict when I will get enough sleep. I can't predict when I'm going to be lucid. Sort of hard to plan around that, eh?
For the most part, I try to keep my thoughts to just getting around from day to day. I've let things slide that most likely shouldn't have been let go, like the research on the time limit for WC payments. But I've had to do what I've had to do just to get by, you know?
Do me a favor, if you will, and say a prayer that the new MRI (in a couple weeks) sheds light on the cause of the weakness and pain and other problems so I can get back to my old self. I miss my old life and I miss my old self.
Tribute To The King
His moves left crowds "All Shook Up". His style was different from anything most of his audience had heard. He was a white singing "black" music at a time when that sort of thing wasn't done. In fact, because of his successful blending of rhythm and blues and rock and some country twang, "race music" and "hillbilly music" labels fell to the wayside.
He changed the way Americans heard music. He paved the way for many and has been credited by countless artists as a major influence.
I wasn't always a fan, save for a song or two. But...in the last couple years, I've developed a greater appreciation of his music and his contribution to music as we know it today.
His name was Elvis Aron Presley.
Elvis would have been 72 today. Somehow, there's a part of me that believes if he were alive he'd still be rockin' and rollin'.
Merry Christmas To All
I wish I had the time and the energy to email or call each and every one of you, dear readers. I wish I had my Christmas cards weeks ago when I had first started addressing them. I wish there were more hours in the day, more days in the week(end), and an abundance of energy to accomplish all my lofty holiday aspirations. But reality dictates these goals not be met and I'm okay with that. Why? Because, for all my wishes listed above, the most important wish -- the one to which I've focused all my wishing powers -- is for all of you and yours to have the happiest of celebrations this Christmas.
May your day be filled with laughter and love and hope. Lots and lots of hope. With hope, anything is possible.
Merry Christmas, happy belated Chanukah (or whichever spelling you prefer), and/or happy/merry anything else you wish to celebrate.
Is There A "Grove-l" In The House?
Little Dude was having a quiet game of Scrabble with his grandmother the other evening and at the end of the game he was trying to place the very last of his tiles. I jumped in to help on the final two -- U and L -- and managed to find a place for the U. I couldn't see anything for the L, but, in an inspired moment, he said, "Is there a 'grove-l' in the house?"
I laughed myself silly. Yes, he found what we adults couldn't and it was a damn good word.