J.P.

So I spent the weekend avoiding Twitter as much as possible. There were two reasons for this, one being that yesterday was April Fools’ Day, one of two holidays that I dislike as much as I dislike clowns. The second being that being on Twitter for extended periods of time starts to feel like this (it’s a short, 38 second video):

I almost forgot that Trump was president for 48 hours. What a wonderful feeling. Remember what it was like when Washington, D.C. wasn’t a complete swamp of chaos? When class, intelligence and dignity was more important than screaming, making money one’s God and focusing on destruction instead of unity and creation?

Maybe this will help.

I feel rested enough to tackle the upcoming week. Maybe I’ll avoid the political side of Twitter for another 24 hours and see if that makes things even better.

So with Earl out of town this weekend, the weather not being conducive to flying and it being April Fools’ Day, I decided to go for a road trip in the Jeep.  I am currently stopped at a Starbucks in Worcester, Mass. on my way home, after making my way on the “back roads” to get from Central New York to suburban Boston.

The sign above is from the intersection where one would turn to go to an apartment I lived in back in 1989 and 1990. From memory, without GPS and without any paper map, I was able to drive to all four locations that I lived at between 1988 and 1990 when I worked for Digital, then the second largest computer company in the world. Many of the old Digital (or commonly called “DEC” by non-employees, DEC standing for Digital Equipment Corporation) buildings are still for lease. Digital was purchased by Compaq in the late 1990s, which in turn was purchased by Hewlett-Packard. Had I stayed with Digital, I could be a VP at HP by now, but that was not meant to be my destiny.

I have lost contacts with all but one friend in this area and outside of Facebook I had no way to get a hold of her. I can see Earl and I coming back for a visit on another road trip and then I’ll give Donna (my friend) proper notice so we can get together for lunch or something. The OCD in me likes to plan these things out.

The direction of road trip was inspired by a dream that I had last night. Actually, the dream was right before I jumped out of bed for the day. It was a frustration dream about working for Digital but with modern technology and not knowing how to log into the network with this new equipment. When I worked for Digital, the computer at my desk was a Digital Rainbow 100+. That was supplanted by a Digital DECstation 386 running Windows/386, as we were testing Windows connectivity to our “DECnet” network products. I was a pioneer of Windows testing back in 1988. Some dialog boxes haven’t changed since then.

I had one personal demon that I needed to address while I was in Clinton, Mass.   Since I feel like a rejuvenated man after this recent surgery, I’m trying to get rid of my old baggage. I don’t have many bags to get rid of, but this one has been lurking in the back of my brain since 1990. Some things are not meant to be shared in public, and the details of this one thing fits that category, but I’ve made my peace with nature and universe, standing in the rain under the cover of the dark of night in Clinton, Mass.  No worries, no one got hurt and I got some stuff off my chest.

Other than seeing where I could navigate without electronic or paper aid, I had no plans for this trip. I ended up stopping at the Burlington Mall in Burlington, Mass. and visiting “The Art of Shaving” store, where I pampered myself with a Royal Shave from the very capable barber named Jamal. An hour of pure bliss. I’m probably more vain than I should be, but I believe that this vessel that carries my soul should be treated as nicely as possible, and spending an hour getting my face shaved, buffed, shined, cleansed, buffed, steamed and massaged is one way of enjoying my life.

Life should always be enjoyed. I’ve made it thus far, and I’m not even halfway through my lifetime journey. There’s so much more to see.

Sleet is pelting against our windows. The wind is whipping. The creek in the backyard is barely holding its own within the confines of its banks. 

Ah, the joy of spring in Central New York. 

My kindergarten teacher, a woman by the name of Mrs. Mosher, once told us how March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. I never really understood what that was suppose to mean since we’d often have snow on the ground and how in the world were lambs suppose to do their spring like thing if there’s snow on the ground? Of course, Mrs. Mosher also told my parents that I was probably mentally retarded and wouldn’t amount to much. My mother resisted the urge to show her my consistently top notch report card for the first few years of my primary years. I didn’t color in the lines. I didn’t really want people around me that much, I tended to play alone and in my own little world, I burped in appropriately and one time I was spied drinking out of the sink in the bathroom because I was thirsty and asking for a drink of water and I was told that it wasn’t time to drink water. Oh, one more lingering nugget of kindergarten fun, I would never stay on my rug during nap time. Do children still take naps in kindergarten?  I was always thankful we didn’t have bomb raid drills during nap time, though looking back it would have made sense because in our school you were to get under your group table and put your nap rug over the back of your head. I can remember it like it was yesterday. They called them bomb raid drills but I think we were doing nuke drills, because there was a fairly new nuclear plant not too far away at the time.  In first grade we just sat under our desk during these drills. I was so thankful that the desk was going to save me from a bomb.

As the spring time sleet and wind pelted the house last night I dreamed of a high school classmate (actually she was a year behind me) that I knew only casually. No idea why I dreamed about her but I stalked her on Facebook to see if she is still alive and she is. She hasn’t changed much in 30 years, either! Good for her.  She was just there in the dream. Nothing of real significance.

I am anxious for real spring-like weather to get here. I went flying last night and it felt a little spring like, though the delay in spring weather is probably good for my last two weeks of recovery from my surgery.

But I’ll be happy when I can go outside and enjoy the warmth of the sun on my face.

I just made my first flight video using Final Cut Pro X. It looks good on my computer but it’s in the process of doing some “sharing” voodoo in the background so I don’t know how it’ll look once my ISP scans it for ad revenue opportunities, then Google and Facebook look at it for ad revenue opportunities and then I start getting Amazon suggestions to buy an airplane.

Isn’t the Internet grand? Especially when the U.S. Government is involved? A group of people that have absolutely no idea how any of this works. They just want the donations from the big companies. The world runs on green. Correction, the U.S. runs on green.

Thank goodness Facebook has added random colors to posts.

I think I’m tired. Be good to one another.

<i>This could be considered a TMI blog entry. I share this information for others that have a similar issue, as I found reading the experiences of others to be beneficial to keep my spirits up during my experience. I won’t be offended if you move on without reading.</i>.

So today I visited the very capable urologist that performed the repair surgery to my urinary system at the beginning of this month. The official procedure is called a urethroplasty. Six centimeters of tissue was taken from the inside of my mouth and used to reconstruct a damaged, scarred area of my urethra. The scarring has been there since 1980 or so. I’ve had two catheters since the surgery on the 3rd of March. A Supra-pubic catheter was inserted through my abdomen on the 28th of January (and was replaced during the second surgery). Originally placed to allow my natural parts to calm down and stop the scarring process, the Supra-pubic catheter acted as a backup in case the second catheter, a regular indwelling Foley catheter that makes most people cringe, was installed during the March surgery. That has been my means of urination for 25 days. 

The urologist took some X-rays with contrasting fluid in my catheter, around my catheter and in my bladder. And then before I knew it, the catheter was removed and the doctor had a huge smile. “The graft site is not leaking and looks wonderful. Look at that.” He showed me a picture of a normal looking urethra, something I haven’t had in 35 to 40 years. “You have no strictures”.

I was then expected to urinate using my own parts while laying on a bed under an X-ray machine with four onlookers of the process. I couldn’t do it. Nope. So they filled my bladder with saline solution to the point of where I thought I was going to explode, he saw enough on the X-ray machine to confirm everything was good and then I peed into a special toilet that measured volume, velocity and the like.

Honestly, I broke all previous records in the doctor’s office. Ever. The last record was a man that could pee 40 ml/sec. I went off the chart at 55 ml/sec. I emptied nearly 700 ml of fluid from my bladder in just over 10 seconds. 

I passed the test.

The Supra-pubic catheter will remain in place for another week. For the next seven days I urinate like a normal guy, and then I unplug this little tube hanging below my belly button to confirm that I am emptying my bladder. If I’m not emptying my bladder, there’s a problem. So far, I’ve had 14 drops of urine fall from the catheter tube after going the bathroom. Not even negligible residual urine.

The doctor is confident that things are good to go. There was a worry of incontinence, since my scarring was so close to my bladder, but I can easily keep everything under control. Since my bladder hasn’t had to store anything since January, it’s a little weird having that feeling in my gut again, but I’m getting used to it. The doctor says my bladder will lose some of its muscle tone, as I used to have to push REALLY hard to urinate before this operation. As long as I can keep things at 18 ml/sec or higher, I’m good. And he thinks that’s not going to be a problem.

The Supra-pubic catheter comes out next Tuesday. I then have follow up appointments in July, November and then next March, just to make sure everything holds in place.

I cried with happiness, even though I’m still on healing restrictions, including absolutely no sexual activity for three more weeks. No heavy lifting. Keep your precious cargo supported with good underwear. No straddling anything for at least three weeks, longer if possible. I’ve made the decision that I’m going to replace my long-distance cycling with swimming this summer. And as soon as I have the all clear, I’ll be lifting some weights again.

I feel like a Superman. It’s time to start acting like one again.

Photo from Passenger Shaming Instagram feed. It’s just a random photo I found.

Disclaimer: I’m not linking to articles because a lot of them are click-bait and sensationalistic. The account described below has been pieced together from Twitter claims, follow-up and the like.

Yesterday, apparently two 10-year young girls were denied boarding on a United flight from Denver to Minneapolis. The reason for being denied boarding was due to the fact that they were wearing leggings, which did not meet the company’s dress code. An outspoken bystander who observed this exchange took to Twitter and started tweeting what was happening.

Of course, Twitter started blowing up with all sorts of indignant tweets. Celebrities started weighing in on how awful United. How dare United Airlines dictate what people should wear on their airplanes. But, here’s the rub. What the original tweet didn’t state, and what is often buried in the story when this incident made national news (god knows why), is that these two children were flying “non-rev”. They were flying courtesy of tickets obtained through the perk of a United employee. Many airline employees are given a certain number of slots that they can share with family members and the like, I believe one friend who was a flight attendant could have 10 people on his “non-rev” list. When you’re flying on this type of ticket, you are a representative on the airline. You are a representative of the employee. The employee represents the airline. You’re not guaranteed a seat, you’re usually flying stand-by and, which is articulated quite well in the rules of this type of travel, you must be dressed in “business casual” attire. The airlines can be rather strict about the type of dress for these types of passengers, and the attire of these two children did not meet the criteria.

End of story, right? Of course not, there’s been endless tirades and such on Twitter for the past 24 hours of how children have to follow these rules, complete ommissions of the non-rev part of the story and just a lot of drama and outrage because that’s what we have for 2017. In 2016 we had celebrities dying everyday, 2017 is the year of indignation. God, I wish the Mayans might have been half correct in 2012 and at least spooked people back into finding some common sense.

When I board a commercial flight I do my best to look good. I might be crammed into the back row of a 737 in the middle seat but I can tell you that I will still be wearing sturdy dress shoes, a nice pair of pants, a collared shirt and probably a sport coat. I believe that the way we portray ourselves speaks volumes as to how we conduct our lives and I do my best to show the world that I am here to give more than I receive, to be a leader and to do good things for the world. When you schlep up the aisle, unshowered, unshaven in a pair of sweat pants with your hair up in a bun (man or woman, doesn’t matter), get completely lost while looking for your seat in the sequentially numbered aisles, throw half your belongings in various bins along the way and then plop down, take your shoes off and put your feet up on the armrest in front of you, I can only assume that you’re taking more from the world than you’re giving it. As a fairly judgey person (I own it, I’m pretty good at it), I see you as part of the problem, not part of the solution when it comes to this world of chaos.

Now, I could hearken back to the days when people were dressed up for their flight and you got more than four peanuts in a bag you can’t open and the cost of the ticket might involve a mortgage. I believe that everyone should experience flight. As a pilot, I can tell you that there is nothing better than being able to sit in an airplane and dance amongst the clouds. But an airline flight is allowing you to do something that humans weren’t designed to do, and that’s fly through the sky at hundreds of miles per hour to get from point A to point B. And honestly, that feat alone deserves a lot of respect. Not to mention the people around you that deserve respect as well.

Dress like you respect the world, act like you respect the world and perhaps the world will respect you back.