Triple Red

When you are a double red donor, it does take longer than giving whole blood. A double red donation involves having the blood pumped from your body. The blood is put thru a centrifuge. The centrifuge removes the red blood cells. What is left, minus the white blood cells, are put back into your body. (Note the “Return” on the image.)

Prior to the trip my son and I are taking next week, I wanted to get my “Give Blood” card punched. The closet Carter Blood Care office is not open on Thursday and Friday, so Monday was the day. When I called they offered me an appointment OR a “come right in and take your chances no one will get there ahead of you.” I did not even get the chance to sit down and wait when I arrived. After reading the literature, they moved me right into the pre-screening room.

This is the room where you can lie (or tell the truth) before being told they won’t be able to take your blood today. The person helping me today was very nice. She did, however, admit to having a vein fetish since she starting working there. She claims she could not go into social settings or spend time with loved ones without trying to see if they had good veins for giving blood. (When giving blood, these veins are typically on the inner elbow.) My two cups of coffee made my blood pressure higher than I wanted. I was not disqualified yet. After she confirmed my blood was “thick” enough for a double red donation (instead of giving every 8 weeks, double red donors give every 16 weeks. They give “double” the amount of red blood cells given by whole blood donors. ) Since it has been over 4 months since I had given blood, the pre-screening questions had changed a little. They are now digging into Zika and whether you may have had contact. They are also tracking whether people have had an endoscopy within the past few months. (The screener had no good explanation why they are doing this. She said neither a “yes” or “no” answer here would throw an error code and prevent you from giving. Answering wrong to the HIV questions, would keep you from donating on that day….or ever.) It was also new for the screener to stay in the room while I answered the questions. Apparently, an “efficiency expert” (she literally told me they had been evaluated to make them run better.) had told them too much time was being wasted by potential donors waiting on staff. Today, things kept moving very nicely.

As I moved to my donor station, I met the nurse (not exactly sure of her official medical designation) who would be “taking care of me”. (In restaurants now, the waitress often says, “My name is Peaches. I will be taking care of you.” The nurse did offer me a drink, but I don’t see the waitress taking my blood….unless I had a really rare type of blood and I was part of some criminal organizations plans to acquire massive amounts of my blood type.) Her name was “Duchess”. While she played nice with me during the entire donation, I don’t think we ever really clicked. It may have been me jokingly offering to give a “triple red” (they don’t do this. It was an obvious attempt on my end to inject humor into a relationship that was not salvageable.) OR her getting irritated with her supervisor looking over her shoulder and “causing” her to make mistakes as she set everything up for my donation OR incessant rambling as I couldn’t help but comment on every part of the double red process. Whatever it was, she outwardly smiled while counting the minutes until I would be gone. (I teased her as the equipment adding 2 minutes to the time of my donation. It started saying I would be done at 10:34. When I was done, it was at 10:36. She didn’t even like the tangent I had about a GPS giving you a certain time when you will get to your destination. As you speed along, the GPS predicts you will get there more quickly. When you make potty/gas/food stops, the goal is to still get to your destination ahead of the first time predicted by the GPS–no time to eat outside of the car.) After the needle was removed, she elevated the donor bed, and she had me spewed into the snack area.

The final stop when they are convinced you are capable of walking under your own strength is the snack bar. I felt obligated to have a Gatorade and some chex mix. (I did grab a bag of peanut butter cookies for my oldest daughter – actions speak louder than words when your kids are teenagers.) The receptionist is never uncomfortable asking multiple times if you are ready to schedule you next appointment. (Next double red would be 16 weeks or sometime last half of August) I kindly refused based on some excuse about, “Tough to schedule anything with school starting up around then.”

While I am glad I give blood, today made me a little gladder. I felt treated like a customer who is there voluntarily to do something I am not getting paid for. Despite the fact Duchess and I didn’t click, I felt “fast-tracked” to the donor station. Although there were easier things to get done and marked off my list today, this is always one I can mark off knowing my list isn’t all about me.

The Incident

As we wound down a very full day of softball, we were tired. The girls had played 3 games. We were challenged to think of small talk to keep the parents of the other girls chatty, and we had to watch both the good and bad innings pass by while attempting to cheer enthusiastically for both. It was a long day and we realized some areas of our lives may have received less than adequate attention.

This became quite evident later that evening. My wife received a text from one of our friends who have twin children the same age as our son and who also attend the same college. The wife’s text read, “where were you tonight?” After a slightly confused look from my wife, the words penetrated the days haze. A few weeks before, these friends had asked us to attend a charity event. They had bought a table’s worth of tickets. Without thinking, my wife had accepted their invitation. After pulling her thoughts together, my wife did text back and apologize. She was very short on providing the details as to why we weren’t there.

The next day was Sunday, so as we almost always do, we attended church. Once my wife saw this couple sitting behind us a few rows did she find the need to caution me, “Don’t let them know you didn’t know about the dinner we were invited to.” As the service continued, I had my best, “We are so sorry line” all worked out. When we walked out after the service, we looked for the couple. My wife went back in and tried to see if they were still talking. They must have left early. Our need to give a personal apology was unmet.

Typically, we would not feel as guilty as we do. This family has been so good to our son at school. When they visit their kids at school, they will typically include our son when they go out to eat. . Even while going to high school together, they made extra effort to invite our son to interesting things. As I write this, I truly hope our visit to see our son at college can allow us a chance to take their son out to eat as well. Our hole may not be as deep as it feels, but doing something nice for their son might will help fill in the “guilt” hole we are carrying around.

Should We Bark At Him?

After watching my son run the Oklahoma City Marathon, the departure from Oklahoma City and 3+ hour drive had to occur. While grateful to my wife for shouldering the driving, there is very little about being a passenger during a car ride that makes you feel athletic. Sometimes I will read while riding, but my desire and comprehension was off today. So, the only thing that would really cure what was ailing me was a walk down my familiar path once we got home.

Everything was fine until I got to the bridge. Some young “ruffians” (not really, but they certainly did not seem to want to give up much of the bridge to an old man who goes out dressed THAT way) barely navigated their bikes past me before I got to the other side. And, on the other side were the collie-like twin dogs that have been voted mostly likely to “bark the fear out of you”–especially if you are walking a dog of your own. Their barking then starts a chain reaction for the next few yards.

Today, I passed their house with no leash or reason to carry one. While the dogs seemed to be relaxing, I was almost positive I heard one of the dogs say out of the corner of my ear, “Should we bark at him?” As an active believer in encouraging my imagination to stretch itself whenever possible, I explored the possibilities of whether one of them actually said this before assuming I heard things incorrectly. Once I “killed” the imagination and accepted the most logical reality, I tried to see if the ruffians were nearby playing, “Let’s see if my ventriloquist routine can get the old man.” If it was not the ruffians, the other reality is one I am choosing to only embrace in a positive way–there is a positive way, right?

Little Bit Late

As we started the day, we knew it would be a busy one. My daughters had a softball game at 10. And, following this, we were heading up to Oklahoma City for one night to see my youngest son run in a marathon. (His first and last….?) While I like to stay a little busy, I like to do it mainly in one place with all of my “things” nearby. My wife says, “It will be good for you to stretch yourself.” My retort of, “I am getting to old to become too limber.”, goes unsaid.

The day did start pleasantly. No alarm (but I don’t generally sleep in), and no dress code, so t-shirts were welcome. While we were supposed to give ourselves 40 minutes to get to their game, by the time we were loaded up, had removed my work over-worked wife from the guest list, and snacks were all packed, we were off only a few minutes late. The sky was gorgeous. The morning air was pleasant. And, the “low tire pressure” light came on.

In some cars and households, this would be written off as an anomaly. Were I you, I would probably have done the same thing. While I may be getting old, I don’t quickly forget the previous times this light has visited an otherwise “nice” day. There was the post cruise drive home from Houston. Where shortly after leaving the boat, the tire decided it wanted to take its vacation right then. There was the drive up to Ohio where after fighting a crazy night of rain, we were grateful for a cloudy but “sprinkley” morning. The light came on with me behind the wheel. My wife said, “It is probably okay.” but the pothole said, “Not so quick.” Despite the delays caused by these issues, AAA was there both times.

As I am running late and seeking wisdom on the issue, I opt to check the tires and avoid the possible scolding for being late. I pull into the QT (I avoid getting a drink now–I will hope to get one after dropping my daughters off.) and am grateful the hose seems to have all the right parts to fill my tires. I pull each of the hubcaps off prior to using the gauge previously tucked away in my glove compartment. (When tires are not your friend, the gauge is.) I would love NOT to tear the hubcaps off, but the gauge and air hose will not seal correctly if I don’t. All tires checked out but one…it was at 29 PSI…not the recommended mid 30’s. A couple quick burst of air and a confirmation from the gauge told me I was good.

Am I overly paranoid for even stopping and checking it out? Maybe. Are we the victims of our own past and forever held fully or partially captive by our past experiences? In my case, definitely. Am I glad I didn’t ramble on to my daughters endlessly about the dash light and all that was going on in my head prior to stopping? Yes. Let them play their game and let me be the adult trying to look out for them as long as I can

New Home For Herbs

My daughter has wanted an herb garden for quite some time. She has suggested I rip up some plants from an area she believed was ideal. Once some transplanted plants from last falls projects were deemed “dead”, I let her know I had a place for her herbs.

When she finally had some time available after church last Sunday afternoon, we ran the necessary errands to get the “stuff”. We needed to go the Sprout’s for groceries, but we found a nice selection of herbs as well. (Our 15% discount due to our “adopted sons” employment was helpful.) We gathered our spiced up soil and a couple more herbs at Home Depot. I considered getting landscaping stones to build an elevated bed before deciding to check out a few bricks from our “building materials that didn’t get used when the house was built” bank.

As can be seen in the first picture shown with my daughter, the chosen area does have a grade. We ended up putting bricks over the bottom half of the rectangle. My daughter was impressed with how I used a level to confirm the bricks were mostly level across the course (Architecture definition – a continuous horizontal layer of brick, stone, or other material in a building). A sheet of weed mat was spread across the bed area before the full course of bricks was installed. Due to the grade change, we needed to run a 1/2 course of bricks on the top half of the bed to make sure there was enough soil available for planting there. My daughter truly took ownership of the project. She realized creating a planting bed is more than digging a few holes.

It seemed to have been a good weekend to do the planting. The days following were quite cool and rainy. The remaining issue is whether the sprinkler system will give the plants adequate drinks when the rain leaves. I truly hope the sage, parsley, basil, dill, rosemary, thyme, mint and dill (maybe a peppermint will join them) serve my daughter and the other women (and men) of the household well.

Other Side Of The Leash

Prior to our house becoming a “dog” house, my sympathy for leash bearers with bipeds trailing behind them was not great. I thought, “Poor doggie. He is locked up all day. He just wants a little time to be free and do what God made him to do.” As I continue to give our dog walks (I told my son I am Plan B or C. He is Plan A.), I do notice more dog habits and how the relationship of those on both ends of the leash might possibly be misunderstood.

The dog wants a firm hand. It is his job to attempt to dictate the speed of the walk and the distraction along the way. If he sees and/or smells a squirrel, it is the job of the biped to prevent the dog from dragging him off the paved sidewalk and into the bushes. If a small child or a trusting adult, says, “What a beautiful dog! Can I pet him?”, it is the bipeds job to determine on whether this is presently or EVER a good idea. If in the case of our dog, the dog likes to walk with a “pull toy” in their mouth, it is the bipeds job to pick up the toy when it is dropped. Our choice, however, is whether we accommodate the dog’s side glance with mouth open as a valid invitation to “help” us carry the toy yet again. After playing the game multiple times within a 100 yard stretch, the toy seems to fit in our hands better than it fits in his mouth.

The biped wants to take a walk without the leash wearing calluses on their hands. When a standard leash is WAY to long to trust the quadruped with the range it permits, the leash is wrapped multiple times around the bipeds hand/wrist/arm/hand-of-other-arm. As the walking pace is set, there is a constant need to “encourage” the dog to not smell all scents to their source. On the occasion (these occasions are many) when the dog needs to relieve himself, the biped finds his leash tugging is ignored. The pause is brief unless the “little green bag” needs pulled out to gather the pieces of fertilizer awarded to the yard of one of our neighbors. The biped does feel varying levels of guilt as the quadruped attempts to outrun the leash. As the leash tightens on the dog’s neck, biped can walk/run faster to prevent the neck from being restricted OR they can choose not to look down and see the leash’s tauntness. (Alternatively, the collar could be swapped for more of a harness style. It would allow the tauntness of the leash to force the dog to turn to the side instead of being allowed to forge ahead while fighting for leash-restricted air.)

While we waited many years to get a dog and the accompanying leash, I have been surprised how the family has taken to the challenge. The walks may be shorter than the dog desires and less frequent than we believe appropriate. The quadruped may give us the more mature puppy dog eyes when we fail to properly attend to his needs in the time frame he prefers. The creature on the other side of the leash has become yet another instrument God has used to help us learn the lessons better experienced than read.

Damp Damage

In Texas, spring brings rains. While it is good to focus on the refilling of the water reservoirs, the excessive rains produce the inevitable flooding. And, my wife has found running after the dog when there is so much moisture in the air can be quite “dampening” to her clothing. Unfortunately, when the rains settle in for a week or so, the humidity and overall dampness elevates a couple of “normal” things to near life threatening.

Yesterday, as I was driving my daughters to school, I was grateful the rain had stopped…..if not completely stopped, just a light mist. It was so light I had turned off the windshield wiper. As I drove west on a 3 lane city street, I was in the far left lane. Right after clearing a set of train tracks, the road had a low spot. My lane was completely water free, but the car to the right of me had a different path. As he hit the low spot, my windshield was deluged with massive (when you are driving at 40 mph, any amount of water preventing safe visibility is WAY to much) amounts of water. I was trying to keep the car in my lane until I remembered where the windshield wiper switch was at. The girls gasps in the back seat elevated the pressure slightly. Instincts were still operating so what seemed like 5 seconds was likely only a fraction of one. The rapidly cleared windshield allowed the the “daughter delivery” to take place without incident. (This morning following another night of rain, I was in the middle lane. The driver in the far right lane hit the low spot again. Very temporary panic was almost immediately replaced with full windshield visibility. I think I have the reflex practically automated now–like the hand on hot surface. Old dogs can still learn new tricks!!)

Last nights grilling of hot dogs and hamburgers nearly turned into an event where I lost my face. After scraping the cooking service of the grill, I lowered the lid of the grill. I turned all 4 burners on and hit the “starter” button a couple of times. After hearing the clicking sound a couple of times without hearing the “whoosh-like” sound of the flames claiming all of the fuel within the closed grill, I thought maybe the propane tank was out of fuel. As I thought about this possibility briefly, I starting smelling propane leaking out of the cracks in the grill. Although the smell should have immediately caused me to run OR turn off the gas, I did not. Almost immediately thereafter while I was lost in my thoughts, the major WHOOSH engulfed the grill. Flames temporary claimed the propane in the storage area below the grill. My utterance of an “Uhhhhh”, the display of what could only have been a look of horror with mouth agape, and rapidly backing up 5 steps (one more step would have taken me into the pool) even caused my daughter to open the back door to check on me. Since she never worries about me on the grill, I can only guess my outdoor exclamation penetrated the walls of the house with little loss of volume. While still mentally regrouping, it was good to know the 911 call would have gone out quickly should this adventure have gone a different direction.

As the meat was loaned to the grill to be ravaged there, I willingly sacrificed the hairs on my arms to its consuming desire. In retrospect, the grill igniter or other components were a little damp to immediately perform their required function. This pitfall of humidity was a new experience BUT one not quickly forgotten.

Web Footed World

Lots of tadpoles were seen last spring when the pond overflowed the sidewalk. He appears to be a little old to have been born last year. He appears to still be in full possession of his “frog legs”.

These are not real Canadian geese. Our eccentric neighbor (I don’t know them, but if I did this, I would understand if people called me eccentric) has these 5 fake geese out in their front yard. I have not been able to confirm it, but my daughters claim they move them around every couple of days. There is also the possibility they are like the angels on Dr Who–they only move when people are not looking at them.

The toad sat innocently on the path. Some of the very small pre-tadpoles were swimming in the area. Since he was along the edge, I hope the bicycles will not find him. The only rationale for choosing this place is a preference for sidewalk over pond muck—OR, he and Mrs. Toad are spatting.

Quite the little flock of ducklings. Momma was just out of view. (The two colors of water are caused by “our” dirty water colliding with the water from another part of the subdivision.) In some parts of the world, alligators might find baby ducks a good appetizer. There are no such creatures in the area to single-handedly wipe out the whole flock (One other walker counted them and thought there were 10 of them) ….well, if there were, it would take multiple mouthfuls.

The turtle seems to be very suspicious of any photographers. I took this shot with the hopes of getting one from a little closer. He “freaked” when he heard the Iphone take its picture, so this was as good as it got. While not sure if he is a snapping turtle, his inclination to jump when hearing the snap of the camera seems to be pretty conclusive proof.

The slower of the pair was stuck being the photogenic one. The ditch that services the neighborhood during times of rain abundance is happy to play host to the ducks, cranes and whatever other fowl needs a Birdie B & B to relax at.

I will admit to not knowing my turtles very well. My first guess is this is a baby snapping turtle (he did not seem nearly as jumping when I took the picture.). His present size was nearly identical to the turtles people used to have as pets. Do people still have turtles as pets? I thought they had some type of virus or something. Regardless, he posed before the recent rain evidenced in the toads picture.

The Young Ones Swarm

While waiting for my daughter’s softball game to start, we could not help but pause and watch the t-ball kids play. It seems whether playing soccer or t-ball or probably any other sport when kids in the 4-5 age range are involved, they pose extra challenges to coaches, referees and the fans.

The coaching staff is not sitting on the bench. Every one of them is out there on the field trying to keep the kids focused on the ball….at least at the point where the batter’s bat impacts the ball off of the tee.
It is expected the base runners will jump up and down on the bases. They will also wave at their parents in the stands. They may leave the base as they become distracted. One thing they rarely if ever need to worry about is being tagged out. “Force” outs seem to the only way you will get out. (Unless you hit the ball and forget to run to first base….then they may get tagged out.)
The coach of the team at bat needs to be very careful while putting the ball on the tee. Unexpected enthusiasm could make his head look like a ball on a tee.
The umpire is really a coach with an asterisk. In the brief time we were watching, I saw him pick up a player and move him to another part of the field. Not sure why…?
No kids are on the bench. And, no kids are in the outfield. Almost every square meter of the infield has a kid kicking up his required cloud of dust.
From the kids perspectives, getting an out is not the goal. Being the first one of the swarm to pounce on the ball is enough. If you get the ball first and make an effort to chase the base runner to the bag, your parents will probably buy you a Happy Meal.
Little kids in uniforms are kind of like when a person wears the uniform of the armed forces. The military person always looks brave. The kid just looks cute. There are pony tails (it was co-ed), neon cleats and ill fitting gloves. The batting helmets may not fit snugly and wobble a bit. They are wearing uniforms that are similar to those of major league teams but shrunk to 1/4 of their previous size. It almost gives the kids a “midget” like look. It brings a smile to your face to watch them!

If I watched more of their games, I am sure I would have noticed more. Not only did watching bring a smile, but it also brought back memories of a coach I knew 10 or 15 years ago who got the privilege of feeling the pride of coaching his own kids. And, maybe that was the best part of my brief time Saturday as a tee ball fan.

New Tea For Me

The dentist visit on Thursday was not as rosy as the visits of my youth. Since my mouth and the associated gums are now past the half century mark, new issues are emerging. My gums are not as fit as they once were. My enamel may still be the hardest substance in my body, but there is less of it now then when I began my adult journey. As the dentist fixed the necessary issues to hopefully stretch me out until 6 months hence, he gave me the lecture on sweetened drinks. So, while I thought I had done myself a favor by doing an 80/20 sweetened black mango tea mix, it now appears I need to go full 100% non-sweet…..

The local Quik Trips (QT) come in two styles. The low end style had the 6 tea options – regular, black mango, and pineapple/papaya with sweet and non-sweet version of each. The higher end locations have these flavors plus raspberry, passion fruit and maybe one other–all with sweet and non-sweet options. As a long time fan of the black mango tea with a new found need to try and eliminate any sweetener, I first attempted to get a cup of black mango tea on a recent high-end QT visit. With my taste buds and brain anticipating the flavor from previous tea purchases, I was virtually assured of being disappointed. And, of course, I was. The goal now was to find the best tasting non-sweetened tea.

I am not gifted enough to make this taste testing exciting enough to fill multiple paragraphs. I did end up trying the passion fruit non-sweetened. After a quick sip, I was intrigued enough to buy a full cup. As the drink followed me to my daughter’s softball game, my wife also had a chance to be pleased when she sampled the new flavor. Until it is not the winner, non-sweetened passion fruit tea will be my high-end QT drink of choice.

While I use this post to note my change in tea, it really is how I choose to manage my aging body. If an expert has an interest in keeping me the best me I can be and if he/she gives me advice, I would be foolish to not heed there recommendations. If an expert told me to give up a food I really liked, I would be dancing with the devil (or allowing him to pick out some music) if I did not modify my behavior based on their guidance. All during our lives, we have the ability to alter behavior based on the instructions of those who have wisdom in a specific area. Whether the advice is free or paid for, life is a series of choices. Educated choices will get you ahead more often than emotional ones. When my body practically turns to dust while I look at it in the mirror, I will error on the side of less dust….

Walking Down Life's Road With Andy