Close call at the veterans hospital

Close, as they say, only counts in three things: horseshoes, hand grenades and dancin’.

Now there’s a fourth.

Making a phone call in the hot, unbearable sun on a bench at the entrance of the Mountain Home VAMC in Johnson City.

Right out of nowhere, in the middle of my phone conversation a couple of days ago with my co-author and friend Michael Manuel, I blacked out.

As in fainted.

Lost consciousness.

Entered into another dimension of nothingness that I never ever want to visit again.

It happened a bit after 2 in the afternoon—after I’d had glowing reports from the doctors at both my appointments earlier in the day.

I’m thinking I’ve got the rest of the day free. I’m going to split this popsicle (leave the premises and get on to my car and do whatever).

I’d had a good lunch.

Felt good. Looked good (I think). Acted good (hard for me but I tried).

Then that phone call before leaving the hospital.

I went outside to the front entrance of the building for a better signal.

I’m talking. Jawboning with Mike. Swapping lies. Sharing whatever other mindless stuff you share on a cell phone.

Had been chatting for about 15 or 20 minutes. It was hot outside—really hot. In the low 90s, I’d say. But I was in quasi shade about 40 feet from the front door of the building.

And then my world and mind went blank.

For how long?

Not sure but might have been 5-10 minutes.

Then I “came to”— dioriented and dizzy and scared, my world spinning, my legs rubbery and wobbly.

I got my bearings, barely, and staggered back into the air-conditioned hospital. Tried to walk, but couldn’t. Sat back down. Tried again. Clutched anything I could get my hands on while I moved. But then gave up and plopped back down.

Saw a nurse and asked for a wheelchair so I could make it back to the far end of the building to valet parking.

But she wasn’t game. Told me there was no way she’d let me drive.

Found me a wheelchair and rolled me to the ER.

Man, they work fast and efficiently and professionally in the Mountain Home VAMC ER! No messing around. They took me right in. Asked me dozens of questions. Connected me to wires and computers and all the rest of the stuff they tether you do when you’re in crisis.

Read me my “rights”—sort of.

Doc: “If your heart stops, do you want to be revived?”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Doc: “Do you want us to do chest compressions and intubate you or whatever else we need to do to get you breathing.”

Me: “Yes.”

Doc: “Do you have a living will?”

Me: “Yes, I have an advanced directive on file here.”


Hours later, they still didn’t know what had happened.

The suspected gremlins: dehydration, a reaction to one of my heart medications, a pesky UTI (which they discovered while I was in the ER).

And then—on the day that had started out so well—I was admitted to the hospital.

To a part of the place called C-1.

Wow, did they ever pamper me!

By “they,” I mean primarily the nurses on C-1—Renee, Jackie, Amy, Felicia.

Angels all of them. (I love my veterans pajamas).

Didn’t stay on C-1 very long. Got discharged the next day. And they still don’t know for sure (my opinion) why I blacked out.

But if you’re going to go dark, what better place than a big VA hospital?

Thank you again to the docs, nurses, my family and to everyone else who helped me.

I’m glad I’m a veteran. An old USAF veteran but still one who got exceptional treatment at the Mountain Home VAMC.

Y’all are the best!

Never, ever give your best friend Tylenol!

Many of you at the Johnson City Dogpark have noticed my beloved bichon frise Michael Jackson.

That’s him—with his brother Joe (my sheltie)—in the photo with this blog post.

(We named him Michael Jackson because we got him eight years ago on the day the King of Pop died.)

He’s 27 pounds of adorable, romping, playful fur.

One person recently told me a bichon is a “step above a dog.”

Well put.

But I almost killed Michael Jackson two nights ago.

He had a fever in the middle of the night—about 1 a.m.—and I gave him a 500 milligram crushed tablet of Tylenol in a spoonful of peanut butter. Actually forced him to swallow it cause he was so warm.

For whatever reason, my wife Patsy awakened about one hour later and decided to Google “dogs and Tylenol.”

We were shocked and horrified to discover that Tylenol is extremely deadly toxic for canines!

So we got dressed, scooped little MJ up into our arms and hurried to Robinson Emergency Animal Hospital.

Yes, we were told, our bichon frise could have died.

Yes, a dog that ingests Tylenol can suffer massive kidney and liver damage.

Yes, “Jackson” (as we call him) needed to be hospitalized, medicated and put on an immediate IV.

Two days, a lot of anguish and several hundred dollars later, our beloved dog is back home and doing pretty well. He’s not 100 percent back to his old self but we hope he’s getting there.

Moral of the story: Never give your dog Tylenol.

A friend, a regular at the dogpark, also told me yesterday that grapes or raisins or dark chocolate can also be deadly for a dog.

So be careful—fellow dog lovers—what your pet swallows.

Dogs don’t always benefit from what helps us humans.

Secrets to the Airstream

About our 1969 Airstream Tradewind:

Setup: Unhitch trailer. Unhook 2-inch ball. Crank up jack. Note the level bubble on side of trailer. Bubble should be in middle if trailer is level. Also note level bubble above propane tanks near tongue of trailer. Everything level? If so, apply screw jacks to back bumper and tongue. No need to put jacks under frame. Level blocks go under tires if they are needed.

Leveling trailer important for the A/C and refrigerator.

First thing to do is connect to electricity. Pigtail cord is stored in back bumper. Plug cord into campground outlet. Might have to buy an adapter to fit RV outlet.

Trailer has a 30-amp breaker located in bathroom oak cabinet; has its own little gray box. This 1 breaker will cut all 120-volt power to whole trailer.

From 30-amp breaker, power feeds to front of trailer to cabinet on R side of control center (above bed). Grey box has 3 breakers. 1 breaker is dedicated to A/C. Other breakers run electrical outlets on right side of trailer and left side of trailer. Also one of the breakers supplies power to the power converter.

When 120-volt power is one and converter is on, converter is supplying power to lights and charging battery and radio up front.

2 small fuses located next to converter (in panel on side of trailer and near back of trailer). Each is 30 amp.

When hooked up to 120-volt power, this supplies power to A/C and all receptacles (outlets).

The 120-volts goes to converter, which breaks it down to 12 volts. All lighting in camper and radio is 12-volt. If lights go dim, something wrong w converter; check fuses.

Water:
Hook up water hose. 2 water sources on trailer. Water source from campground is shore water. Hook up water hose to back rear of trailer. (Put water filter between hose and hookup location, located on lower part of fram on back L side.

Then open back hatch (compartment that has battery). On L side is an orange orange valve. If lever is vertical, it’s off. To turn valve on, lever will be horizontal; this releases water into trailer. Pressure gauge is to right of orange lever; pressure reducer valve is set for 50 psi.

Water not flowing. Test it. Make sure water pump in center control panel in front of trailer (above bed) is off. The button for this is the 3rd button from L. It’s the only button that has an old label marker. Turn button on if we want to use water from fresh water tank.

Check hot water heater. See monitor in bathroom on wall to R. If red light is on, power is on to hot water heater. If light not on, go outside and open hot water heater door (rear side of trailer) and see on/off switch. Turn switch on if red light inside trailer is off.

Rear bumper. Open compartment for storing sewer line. Look for RV sewer hookup. Hook one end of sewer hose to RV sewer intake; hook other end of sewer hose to trailer. Once that is locked into place, open the black (sewer) holding tank on trailer. Do this by opening central compartment rear door. To lower L side, see a black T handle. Don’t pull out; pull up! This releases door for sewer wast to travel from black holding tank of trailer to campground septic tank. (Be sure to put freshener in black tank of trailer).

Fresh water tank: will water in this tank go stale? Combat this by adding freshener to fresh water tank. Maybe add a tablet or 2 of freshener.


Radio:
On R side of battery compartment, there’s a fuse panel. Has little glass round fuses in it (30 amp round fuses). Some of the fuses are rectangular with 2 little prongs at their base; others are little cylindrical fuses) Buy some extra fuses just in case.

Radio is 12 volts. Has a removable face on front. Make sure radio is off. If radio is on, it’s drawing power from battery.

SRC is the source button on radio. Hold SRC button down to turn radio off. Also has buttons for seek/tune to change channels.

There’s an ejectable face on radio. Lower R hand black button. Push button in to eject the face. Radio face pops out and kills power to radio lights.

Gas:
2 propane tanks. Between tanks is regulator. Has a black switch (little lever) that regulates gas from 1 tank to the other. Keep tank knobs turned on.

Plumbing:
Drain system for winterizing Main water drain is in closet to R of hot water heater. (See 2 valves). There’s also a drain for fresh water tank—located in little box next to head of bed.

Buy a fire extinguisher!

Farewell to Crawford Alexander

We buried my brother-in-law yesterday.

His name was Crawford Alexander.

He was 68.

Same age as me.

His name was Crawford. Same name as my son.

He had two daughters. Same as me.

He loved journalism—same as me. He was a prolific reader of the local newspaper. He read every single word—from the front page to the back page. Because he read so much he was always INFORMED and SMART about what happened in his community and the rest of the world. Nothing took him by surprise.

Years ago, Crawford had worked and lived in Charlotte, N.C.—same as me.

He loved dogs—same as me. For a long time he and his beloved old labrador retriever “Bill” were best friends. Did he ever love that dog! He talked about Bill and even reminisced fondly about Bill’s granddaddy.

He died Wednesday shortly after I visited him in ICU at the Johnson City Medical Center.

He had become ill earlier that day. So ill and weak that my sister Cheryl called 911.

They rushed him to the hospital in an ambulance and tried desperately to save him.

But to no avail.

He departed this world late Wednesday night.

We are all still in shock. Stunned. Baffled.

Because Crawford was always the strong one—the one our family called upon to lift, move, haul or do the heavy (sometimes backbreaking, unseemly) work of taking care of our parents when they became hill.

Who you gonna call?

It was always Crawford.

My sister shared with me that when he suddently fell ill—after being so healthy and strong and vibrant all his life—Crawford asked her “What happened to me?”

“I don’t know, honey,” (or words to that effect) she responded through tears.

Today, one day after his funeral service—where his coffin was wrapped in an American flag—we are all asking why. Why Crawford? Why at this time? Why did he have to die? Surely he had 10, 20, maybe even 30 more years or longer left to live… (After all, his father lived to be 94).

When my sister Cheryl asked me to say a few words at where we laid Crawford to rest, I tried to think of a song that would define their marriage.

For they had been together only a few short years—after tying the knot, as I recall, in Boone, N.C.

But WAY, WAY, WAY before that, Cheryl and Crawford had been sweethearts as teenagers.

Then life happened. They followed separate paths. Had gotten married to someone else and then divorced.

And then, just a few years ago, found each other again.

The romance was rekindled. They were happy as two love birds who’d somehow bumped into each other after decades of being apart.

Suddenly they were chirping and flapping their wings joyously and soaring high. Taking trips together, taking care of a household together, dreaming together, building and remodeling together, making a blended family work, leaning on each other.

And, most importantly, loving each other.

Ok, back to that song I mentioned earlier. I recited a few lines of it yesterday at Crawford’s service. It’s by Johnny Cash and June Carter. Here tis:

Mom's Day

Mom, I know you left this world in July 2013. But you are still with me.

You were there that very first breath I took.

I was with you the day you died.

And so many, many years in between.

You were the best mom in the world!

Loving, kind, sweet, gentle, giving, selfless.

I heard a sermon today. Minister says Mother's Day is joyous. But it's also painful for some.

Yes, I hurt that you're gone.

But I'm still forever grateful and honored you were my mom.

Happy Mother's Day 2017, Mom!

(With this blog post are a few photos. The single is of my mom--Dixie Nadine Jenkins Timbs. The group shot, from left, consists of some other wonderful moms: Elizabeth Timbs Sherling, Nell McQueen (not a mom but still one of my favorite aunts of all time); my mom; Dorothy Timbs Yeung.)

And here's a video showing Mom in her younger years.

Beard net

Saw something yesterday at a pizza place I'd never, ever seen before. (And I thought I'd seen it all!)

A man behind the counter--obviously in charge cause he was handling the money and barking orders to his fellow employees working the dough, sauce and ovens--had a hairnet on his beard.

I learned later that evening that he was actually wearing a "beard net."

Who knew?!

Did that person really say this?

A neighbor told me she recently visited a restaurant in Johnson City, Tenn., called The Mediterranean.

One of the servers there shared this startling tidbit with her.

"A customer asked me what my ancestry was and I said Muslim."

"Are you a terrorist," the man asked the young Muslim woman.

"No," she said, keeping a lid on her anger. "Are you a member of the KKK?"

Way to go, Muslim server woman!