...and airplanes

Yesterday I went to the club and two of my best friends said “Do you want to go for an airplane ride?”

“Why yes, yes I would!” I responded

It was wonderful; we experienced the magic of flight.

They were honing their instrument approach skills.

Airplanes are wonderful devices. I have loved them as long as I can remember. My grandma Haynes would take me to the Shreveport Regional airport when I was three or four years old. On the way she drove that Volkswagen through as many puddles as possible. I recall laughing a like a maniac every time the water would splash. We would park and marvel at the magical mechanical dance of aircraft. 

When I was eight playing war my friend Todd always wanted to be a Marine and I always wanted to be an Air Force guy. When I was 19 I became an airman. As a combat controller I had one of the greatest jobs in the Air Force. http://tinyurl.com/okqpuyz

The people are what make CCT so awesome. Jumping out of airplanes and blowing stuff up is pretty cool and if you like being around aircraft then it is close to nirvana. I was able to jump out of many airplanes which means that you get to ride in the airplane, inspect the aircraft and later, as a jumpmaster hang out the side while in flight.  I traveled the world by military airlift.  I was a passenger on trips from Japan to Washington State and Japan to Australia in a C-130. Very time consuming.  I was also able to travel extensively on commercial flights dragging bags through the airport terminals of the world.  These were fun but controlling air traffic had a level of satisfaction that is hard to match.  Being a central part in the sometimes violent dance of man and machine is addicting.  I was able to watch airplanes take off and land at runways all over the world.  From Bung Lung, Cambodia to Fort Bragg, NC and many points in between.  I even got a ride in an F-16! 

Randy Blythe inspired me to finish my degree and apply to undergraduate pilot training. I didn't make the cut. The Soviet Union had just fallen apart. Stupid commies, bunch of quitters. I put in for three rounds of the selection board. On one of them there were 63 applicants and 3 got accepted.  Competition was stiff.  I was weighed, measured, and found wanting.  That is why they are the best. I was 28 and needed a waiver for my age.  I never considered learning how to fly on my own. That's what rich people and farmers do. “Park the Bentley next to the yacht and go flying.” was my paradigm.

Nearly ten years later, returning from a deployment to Kadena AB, Japan I saw a sign for the Aero Club. I signed up for a Discovery flight. I knew this was something I wanted to do. I landed, took my Harley off order, and put in for 30 days of leave and said “I want to do that for a living.”  Again, I have an AWESOME wife.  I spent my summer vacation in 1998 flying.  I flew 50 hours in one month and completed my private pilot training.  Naoya Tamanaha was my most excellent instructor.  He is a local, Okinawa to the core.  The precision that he applied to all areas of his life was amplified in his passionate dedication to aviation.  His patience was astonishing.  Then again he would not let me slide with “good enough” if he saw I could do better.

I was blessed with a full military career.  I continued to enthusiastically enjoy being a combat controller for several more years. Towards the end of my tour it became clear that my body was not up to par for the life of a special operations paratrooper. Realizing that I was a detriment rather than an asset to my team hurt my fragile ego but allowed me to transition to the next phase of my life. Upon retirement, we committed to pursuing the life of a professional aviator.  I went from living a dream life to living the dream. I have an awesome supportive wife. 

After our flight, I went back to the club and hung out with a group of airplane freaks and we talked about airplanes.  We occasionally work on the airplanes, and we certainly talk about working…and airplanes. 

Road Rash

The toxic sweat from chemo causes a rash. Three days with no Lapatinib I seem to be sweating human sweat again.

Road rash are wounds received when you don't properly dress for pavement surfing. I've been a fool on skateboards, bicycles and motorcycles. The pain of having your flesh rapidly removed by friction is shocking. As the shock wears off you realize the extent of the damage as blood begins to flow.  The entertainment continues days later when you discover all of the imbedded pebbles, glass and dirt that threaten infection.  Wounds can be managed. 

(Quotes include “That which does not kill me makes me stronger” Nietzsche…”or cripples you for life…”)

One of my first and more memorable experiences with road rash happened when I was a teenager. Brian and I thought it would be a great idea to combine running and skateboarding...Well maybe Brian just wanted to watch.

The idea was to run to the top of the lake Matthews reservoir and skateboard back down. The older I get the steeper the hill and farther the run. Brian road his bike and I ran.

 When we got to the top I hopped on my skateboard and started down the hill. The speed limit was 35 and I was passing cars! Curves were fun and intimidating but speed comes in the straight sections. I tucked down and really picked up momentum.  Almost immediately the speed wobbles began. This adds challenge as the board rapidly oscillates left and right. I am not sure but it probably has something to do with the physics of urethane, heat and the wheel beginning to disintegrate but, I digress.  The board stabilized as the speed picked up …bitchin’

DA Rock! I saw it too late to avoid it. The front right wheel impacted and I was tumbling. Head over heels…take two steps…tumble…take two steps…tumble. For an eternity I was in this weird cycle.  I was able to kick my skateboard off the road before I took one final roll and came to a crumpled mess.

I acted like that did not hurt. I was properly dressed for nineteen seventies running, a fashion disaster. Thin nylon running shorts, shoes and sunglasses made me look like an idiot and did very little to protect my skin.

 At home tending to my wounds I discovered new strawberries for a few days. Missing flesh on my elbows, shoulders, knees, knuckles and head made sense. My shorts were not torn but I had flesh removed from my hips. During the short time I was cart wheeling down the side of the road I was able to place many parts of my body in contact with the ground.

It took some time to recover. I don't remember how my parents took it. I do remember wearing my crash helmet the next time I tried downhill speed trails. Long sleeves, gloves, and jeans became the uniform for planned lunacy. Not to say I could not be talked into almost anything for spur of the moment excitement but I learned a lot on how to plan extreme activities. Much later I got access to skateboards that were specifically designed for downhill. It was a different experience: more fun, faster speeds and less overt hazards.

Brian was a great friend. We moved at least three more times before I graduated high school and I lost track of him.  I am sure he was the voice of reason and tried to talk me out of it. But once I committed he assisted me by carried my skateboard up the hill on his bike. As a witness to the glory of speed and the agony of defeat he was able to harass me for months.  He helped me pick up the pieces and go home.  I don’t recall ever talking him into TOO much trouble.  That is because he was smarter than me and had much more common sense. 

It is said that the Lord protects drunks and fools…and sometimes I have been doubly insured.  He was smiling on me that day.  Thank God I am alive!

Week Six and recovery

Week six was also very painful but it is over.   The sweat from Lapatanib is like toxic waste and causes an itchy rash.  The thunderstorms came and the power went out.  I did not feel any pain and slept soundly through the night.  The next morning, much to our horror, the entire area was covered in a scary rash.  We managed the results as best we could. 

I have an awesome wife!

That Monday we went in for our checkup.  The doctor was cool and let me slide on getting blood drawn through the mess.  So we will have better data next week. 

Not hammering my body with poison every day is helping the healing process.  It is great to go to bed and wake up better.  Sorry I did not give y'all an earlier update.  I hope to be able to function with out any pain medications soon.  I have an awesome wife!  We are sustained by prayer.

 

Chemo week 5

I am mightily blessed. I am spending a lot of time with my favorite person. I am receiving the finest medical care in the world. I have awesome friends and family.

Most of the rest of my hair fell out so I shaved. The pain is intense. It is really only my bones, joints, and skin that hurt. It feels like I am in a gravity storm when I move. I sleep a lot. I think that is a natural defense against too much sensory input.

  My sweat is a toxic substance. Any place it is allowed to pool for very long becomes inflamed with a rash. A very itchy rash, when combined with hypersensitivity makes not scratching very difficult.

  Nauseous is sickening. If you ever smelled anything or tasted anything that made you retch then you know who ever came up with the drug that could make that feeling stop would make a lot of money. I don't get motion sickness normally but chemo makes it so I'm borderline pukey much of the time.

  I am a vampire. The sun makes me break out in the same horrible rash so I stay out of the Sun. All of these symptoms or side effects are the cumulative result of heavy metal poisoning combined with Lapatinib.

  Eight days and a wake until this round of chemo is done. Then 6 weeks to recover before the surgery. I look forward to being done with this program. I pray to God that this will remove the cancer from my body.  I'm at peace with whatever happens.

 What do you call a doe that has her eyes popped out when she gets run over?

No eye deer.

A little girl calls the fire department and says 'My house is on fire.'

The dispatcher says 'Remain calm, how do we get there?"

'Big red truck, duh.' little girl says.

Tip your waitresses, I'll be here all week.

One minute

“One minute” growled the jump master

His single index finger aggressively shoved in my face.

“How the hell did I get here?”

1985 C-130 1500,' T-10 Friar DZ Fort Benning, Georgia

This was not my first jump. I have experience. I am no one jump chump. Although I don't remember the first and the second I didn't follow instructions and it hurt. The landing, not the jump.  I did it PFL (Pretty Funky Landing) rather than the recommended PLF (Parachute Landing Fall).

  And I thought the black hat on the swing land trainer was just messin' with us. The Swing-land trainer is basically a parachute harness on a rope. The trainee climbs a platform and swings off. Somewhere mid-arc the black hat releases you and you try to land properly. This requires that you get into the landing attitude. Feet and knees together, knees slightly bent. Head and arms like a boxer covering up. The mental attitude is: “if I do this right; it will hurt. If I do this wrong; this will really hurt and maybe break something.”

  His index finger woke me from my daydream. I look a little bit like Barney Fife, wide eyed and scared. But as I turned around to pass the jump signal back I put on my best scary guy face. One minute!” I shouted. Good, the dude behind me looks more terrified than I am.

  That minute past so fast, and yet, so slow. Before I knew it I was standing in the door. 'This is awesome!' I thought. Just then, a tap on the rear and I took the great leap of faith.

  Our team had arrived a few weeks earlier. Fresh out of air traffic control school we were ready to conquer. No one told the Army. Our awesome team leader had apparently never worked in a joint environment. He went into the head office and informed them that his team had been standing around for several hours waiting to in-process. Soon we were running around Fort Benning in the summer heat doing details. It might have been for the best. Every time we were bored we tended to get in trouble.

“1001 1002 1003 1004” Snap dack a doddle ker flack and the parachute opened. “This is so cool.” I thought as I checked the canopy and attempted to slip into the wind. A round parachute can be deformed by pulling the risers and you can steer a little. Mainly you are at the mercy of the wind, your jumpmaster, the aircrew and the accuracy of the data they have...but mostly the wind.

  A few seconds in the air but they were sweet. Prepare to land. Don't reach, don't anticipate. First the balls of your feet hit, then rapidly followed by you calf, thigh and back. The Army called it your push up muscle when in fact it was your latissimi dorsi. Never argue with the Army when you are in their school.

 Surrounded by black hats I picked up my chute and moved out to the collection point. As long as you moved out like you had a purpose they wouldn't hassle you. Unless they were bored…but that is another story

Week four refelections

My faith and my marriage continue to grow. I am geting to spend a lot of time with my favorite person. 

Chemotherapy is painful. My major two brand(s) are heavy metal poisoning. The daily pills are a different kind of poison. My bones ache. Just this week the pain gremlins discovered knocking on my joints with a ball peen hammer would be fun. The hypersensitivity of my body makes all the itchy parts really itchy. My hair was supposed to fall out this week but it has not. I'm probably one of the few people that has more hair during chemo than I did before.
I am a vampire. The Sun will cause me to break out in hives. I have been doing a lot of sleeping. I am not sure if that isn't a self protection mechanism. Too much pain and I'm going to sleep.
http://tinyurl.com/muv2ulo mine is not that bad
Thanks for the prayers good thoughts, and all the help. I will write more when I am conscious more. Love y'all.