LoyalFan
3/31/2006, 10:19 PM
...I awoke at 0300 with that "uncertain" feeling in the boiler room. "Is it gas, or will I have to strip the sheets?"
Fortunately I made the right decision and made my way to the Master Poopatorium...Jeebus! I thought my entire lower half fell off.
By shortly after Noon, and post innumerable return engagements, feeling queasy and achy-breaky, I began to search diligently for some remedy.
Not having my glasses on, I nearly swigged an ocean of Calamine lotion, thinkin...hoping...praying it was that bottle of Pepto-Bismol I'd been hoarding for at least ten years. Whew!
Things went from bad to wretched when a water main at our condos broke and we were without water for a few hours. I had sufficent drinking water but flushing was a non-starter. Yech!
Finally I implored a neighbor to get him to a nationally-known chain drug store and consult the good chemist in my behalf. I made sure that worthy knew what prescription meds I'm on for my A-Fib.
Good Neighbor Charlie returned, bearing Immodium, and I greedily gobbled the first of four. Now after a nap of perhaps three hours duration, the siege seems to have ended.
The bad news? Welllllll, I'llll tellll yew.
I'm achy all ovah. I know I need to drink copious fluids lest I do badly dehydrate and reprise the "Kidney Stone That Ate Vietnam and Damned Near Killed Captain LoyalFan" which was brought on by not one, but three different innard parasites that caused me to drop from my fighting weight of 180 lbs to nearly 155 in a matter of days. Ever bounce about in a tank with a case of Ho Chi Minh's revenge?
Finally, when a highly polished Colonel flew in and asked why I hadn't shaved, one of my NCO's (and a fine horse soldier he was!) ripped the pompous puke a new one and literally carried me to the Huey to be evac'd.
Problem was that whatever drugs killed, or at least inconvenienced, one of three critters was regarded as salad dressing or gravy by the other two.
So, here it is, 2100 San Antonio Time, and I have to meet my bassin' partner at 0500 for a day on the lake, annoying the bass, 'tis hoped. (Catch and Release...always!) This means I need to do a final pre-combat check on 10-12 rods n' reels, a seriously heavy (recently trimmed from 71 lbs to a more svelte 60-ish) main tackle bag (of which I use mebbe eight ounces in a day.)
Freeze the scented surgical towels, in zip bags, after a soupcon of A-shave and water are added. Make tea, a list of snacks to pick up on the way to meet Rodney, remember to tote my Sat. meds in case we fish late...groan..., and make damned certain I've attached the strap to my glasses (no strap + 70MPH on the water=huge replacement cost and days of semi-blindness.) AND packed both grey and amber polaroid clip-ons.
Weather is predicted to be in the 80's, humid, with isolated probables and occasional maybes...I'm gonna die!
What a fine a pleasant misery is the life of a diehard hunter and phisherman!
Thanks for letting me bleed!
LoyalTheFishingFan
Fortunately I made the right decision and made my way to the Master Poopatorium...Jeebus! I thought my entire lower half fell off.
By shortly after Noon, and post innumerable return engagements, feeling queasy and achy-breaky, I began to search diligently for some remedy.
Not having my glasses on, I nearly swigged an ocean of Calamine lotion, thinkin...hoping...praying it was that bottle of Pepto-Bismol I'd been hoarding for at least ten years. Whew!
Things went from bad to wretched when a water main at our condos broke and we were without water for a few hours. I had sufficent drinking water but flushing was a non-starter. Yech!
Finally I implored a neighbor to get him to a nationally-known chain drug store and consult the good chemist in my behalf. I made sure that worthy knew what prescription meds I'm on for my A-Fib.
Good Neighbor Charlie returned, bearing Immodium, and I greedily gobbled the first of four. Now after a nap of perhaps three hours duration, the siege seems to have ended.
The bad news? Welllllll, I'llll tellll yew.
I'm achy all ovah. I know I need to drink copious fluids lest I do badly dehydrate and reprise the "Kidney Stone That Ate Vietnam and Damned Near Killed Captain LoyalFan" which was brought on by not one, but three different innard parasites that caused me to drop from my fighting weight of 180 lbs to nearly 155 in a matter of days. Ever bounce about in a tank with a case of Ho Chi Minh's revenge?
Finally, when a highly polished Colonel flew in and asked why I hadn't shaved, one of my NCO's (and a fine horse soldier he was!) ripped the pompous puke a new one and literally carried me to the Huey to be evac'd.
Problem was that whatever drugs killed, or at least inconvenienced, one of three critters was regarded as salad dressing or gravy by the other two.
So, here it is, 2100 San Antonio Time, and I have to meet my bassin' partner at 0500 for a day on the lake, annoying the bass, 'tis hoped. (Catch and Release...always!) This means I need to do a final pre-combat check on 10-12 rods n' reels, a seriously heavy (recently trimmed from 71 lbs to a more svelte 60-ish) main tackle bag (of which I use mebbe eight ounces in a day.)
Freeze the scented surgical towels, in zip bags, after a soupcon of A-shave and water are added. Make tea, a list of snacks to pick up on the way to meet Rodney, remember to tote my Sat. meds in case we fish late...groan..., and make damned certain I've attached the strap to my glasses (no strap + 70MPH on the water=huge replacement cost and days of semi-blindness.) AND packed both grey and amber polaroid clip-ons.
Weather is predicted to be in the 80's, humid, with isolated probables and occasional maybes...I'm gonna die!
What a fine a pleasant misery is the life of a diehard hunter and phisherman!
Thanks for letting me bleed!
LoyalTheFishingFan