Cold Front Moving In and a Tribute

There is a cold front moving in and, unless they left at dusk, the hummingbirds
are still here.  They sure look like they weigh enough now to make the trip.
But I am not a bird.  So what do I know?  And if were one, I would more
resemble an injured or clumsy ostrich than a hummingbird.  Maybe that is
why I like them so much--they are so NOT earthbound, and I wish I could
be more free, but I can't.  Sometimes life is what it is, and one just has to
deal with it.

I am ill--have a terrible cold.  The cough wakes me up and forces me out of
bed--so that I will eat cough drops and stop coughing.  It is feeling more
like pneumonia as each day passes.  I should know.  I have had pneumonia
multiple times--and three different kinds.  In 1986, I had mycoplasmic
pneumonia--it took nearly 6 months to recover from it.  I would be fine,
and then get sick again.  I have had bacterial pneumonia many times--the
most inconvenient--my first travel assignment.  I left Wilmington NC in
November of 97 and before I left Tennessee, I had to stop at the clinic
and was given the bad news.  Since I couldn't rest--had to drive at least
7 hours per day--it was a very long trip.  The last time I had it, the strain
was viral.  I was exposed to a patient that had a dry cough, and by the
next night, I knew I had Right Upper Lobe Pneumonia.  That was the worst.
Everyone that got near that patient became sick.  We nurses said it was
SARS--but no one would listen to us.  One girl nearly died, and she was
only in her 30's.  She developed lung abcesses.  So in comparison to her,
I did well.

I went to the doctor today--an Urgent Care--with another PA.  Who didn't
listen when I said I had an extensive history of pneumonia.  She diagnosed
me with sinusitis--which does not make one cough until they feel they are
not going to be able to draw the next breath.  She gave me Zithromax,
which will help as long as I am taking it.  Maybe I can get through until I
see my doctor, who knows me and he also knows when I show up, I
usually have my diagnosis in hand.  Only occasionally have I been incorrect.
OK--enough of sick talk.

My plans for cleaning the bird feeders this weekend are now on hold.  They
can wait another week I suppose.

Now I want to pay tribute to my Uncle Gordon.  He was 17 when he enlisted
to go fight in World War II.  I believe he was Marine, but am not certain.  He
ended up as a stretcher bearer at Iwo Jima.  What he saw haunted him until he
died.  I found out later that he was in the first wave at Guadacanal and he was
also at Okinawa and a few other other island battles.  He was a flame
thrower in the cave holdouts.  I learned these facts from my cousin.  The
stretcher bearer--that was his last duty before coming home.

He lived in the mountains of Virginia, and he was mountain tough.  But
could spin a yarn and have you in stitches from laughing so hard.  And such
it was about the time he lassoed a bear.  According to the tale, he had just
gotten off from work and was driving through town when he saw this drunk
lasso this bear.  So he stopped to help the poor man, who was no match
for a bear.  He got a lasso over the bear also, but the bear took off towards
him, so he ended up turning loose of the rope and started running.  Then a third
man got a lasso over the bear, and my uncle was able to get hold of his rope
and between the three men and three trees, they held the bear there until animal
control got there.  Dramatic and funny story--now for the real tale!  My
cousin Mike enlightened me as to the facts.  The bear had wandered off
from the circus.  It was tame and trained.  After they lassoed it with three
ropes, it was a bit perturbed by the situation--especially since it hadn't
bothered a soul.  So it broke all three ropes.  About then, his trainer
arrived and snapped a chain around his neck and led him back to the circus.

Both versions are good and funny.  I am telling this because my uncle Gordon
could have shot the bear, but he didn't.  Years and years later, he went out
to cut some wood in the cold of winter.  After he finished loading his trailer,
one log moved, threatening to fall, so he stopped and got off the tractor, went
back to adjust the log, and the tractor was not quite in gear and started
rolling backwards.  He was caught between a tree and the trailer.  The pain
was so intense he passed out.  His shoulder was crushed.  He couldn't
stand up to walk, so he crawled and dragged himself towards the road.
It was quite a distance and he would pass out from the pain.  When he woke
up, he knew he had to get to the road or he was going to freeze to death.
No one knew exactly where he was.  He owned 200 acres, so that is a
lot of land to cover.  He did make it to the road, and he was found and
taken to the hospital.  He lived through the ordeal, but lost the use of one
arm.

I still miss him all these years later.  I remember being at a Christmas gathering
and feeling so alone and lost.  He came and sat beside of me and talked to
and said things would get better; I didn't believe him then, but he was right.
Being a teenager can be rough--especially if you're keeping secrets--and I
was.

Now I have a house and yard I truly love.  Even if I don't live but a few more
years, this is a wonderful place to live.  I am so in touch with nature and the
cycle of life and that is a good thing.

Here's to you, Gordon!  Our loved ones never die as long as their memories
are cherished.

All for tonight