Ugly Gun Sunday

I'm fairly confident I have everything in my basement that I would need to make one of these in a weekend, excepting a rifled barrel, and I'm not a machinist.

 Also, as I sit writing this, there is an arrogant crow strutting back and forth in my rural backyard at almost the exact distance my benchrest Winchester 52B is sighted in at. Sadly, I believe there's a season for them in NC, I don't have a hunting license and I'd rather not have a visit from the local DNR. This must be what it feels like for a cat watching from behind a window located next to a bird feeder.

On To The Next Task

The move from Iowa to North Carolina is done; unfortunately, the planned housing situation suffered unexpected setbacks, leading to a scramble to find a place to live before showing up for work. I now have the contents of my former home spread over four locations in two states, rather than the one house we had planned on. Which has led to some issues:

Where's my motorcycle jacket?

How many days will it take me to convert the piles of boxes and miscellanea in various storage areas into something with at least a degree of order?

How many different spots are the tools in that I'll need when we do get the house?

And most recently, waking me up at 0500 hours for no reason at all, where did the 30-foot ladder that I watched being loaded into the truck, but never saw when we were unloading, disappear to?

Gimme That!

When an attempt to place a feeding tube using fluoroscopy takes over two hours, four doctors, and 30+ minutes of radiation exposure, and it's still not in the preferred position, perhaps it would be worth considering the suggestions of a person who's been assisting with the procedure for over a decade?

Not being an MD doesn't mean that several of us haven't learned what does and doesn't work, and we actually use some of that equipment daily, compared to the once or twice a year some docs work with it.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go put some cream on my radiation burns while my blood pressure returns to baseline.

Really?

Yeah. Your kids will be fine, because you're the kind of behind-the-scenes, double-dealing, backstabbing, lying, self-serving, amoral piece of shit you constantly say you're fighting against.

Fuck.
You.

Bad Idea

If you work in a hospital cafeteria as a cashier, isn't it a really bad idea to lick your fingers so you can make change faster? It's a bad idea anywhere, but inside a hospital?

What To Do, What To Do.........

After spending a bunch of money to comply with an incorrect order, exceptionally poor communication, and a seven hour round trip to my current drill location to participate in two hours of "welcome home" activities, I can honestly say that while I truly enjoy having worked with many, many soldiers during active-duty deployments and weekend field exercises, I also have developed a deep desire to strangle a number of people who supposedly organize and plan activities.

They Come In Threes?

So far in the last week or so, I've broken the extractor on my 1911 (replacement cost was nearly 10% of what I originally paid for the pistol); separated the powder dispenser on my Dillon Square Deal B into two parts while turning a fair bit of expensive gunpowder into worthless junk on the basement floor; and as of yesterday afternoon, ramming a .58 caliber round ball all the way down my reproduction 1853 Enfield rifle. So far, I've managed to tap the ball with a puller, then have the puller rip out of the ball. I'll get that sucker sooner or later, but it's a serious pain in the ass.

I'm hoping that last event is the end of the trend.

Terminal Leave Super Fun Time Adventure

Thought it might be fun to get away from home when I got home. Maybe hit the mountains on the opposite side of the country from Sturgis. Less crowds, less stress.

Yeah.

Day 1, tire on the truck explodes on the interstate. Not goes flat; explodes. Ever completely lost a tire at 65 mph while towing a cargo trailer? Spend the next half hour swapping out shreds on a rim for a spare while hoping some ass doesn't slam into my truck/trailer instead of passing by at 80 mph. Head to town down the road, find out all the tires are dry rotted. Why didn't I notice this, you're thinking? Hell, I've never had tires last long enough to dry rot. So, four new full-size, good quality truck tires. That hurt.

Day 2, brakes start grinding on the truck

Day 3, I buy new brake pads and rotors.

Day 4, nothing happens. By 1700 hrs, I'm wondering why nothing has gone wrong

Day 5, The Wife notices the bike is leaning more than normal while parked. Spend the morning locating a welding shop to repair the broken kick stand/frame weld. Retrieve bike from shop, notice later that shop has welded half of the damage. Successfully resisted urge to beat head against surfaces, then decide I'll get it fixed properly with my shop at home.

Day 6, is tomorrow. I'll be moving to a different camping site in the North Carolina mountains.

I can hardly wait.

Damn Neo-Hippies

It's transition time at Castle Hundsabbern, which means riding the bike, Jack Daniel's, cigars, and ............ household tasks. One of which is washing the truck. A simple task, normally. Why, all one has to do is wheel out the power washer, top it up, and spray. First, the gas can. Ah, there's one. Must be a new one The Wife purchased while I was gone; the spout looks different. In fact, I've never seen anything like this. Wait, there's directions. I do believe this is the first time I've ever had to read directions to pour fluid out of a gravity-operated container. Let's see, rotate safety catch A clockwise, place catch hook B on rim of tank opening, and press nozzle forward to allow gas to flow into the tank. OK, this is excessive hippieism, but I'll do it and.........there's a circle of gas sprayed all over the floor of my garage, power washer, and me. Pause to allow temper to diminish, and recheck directions. Yep, that's what it says on the tank. Perhaps getting more of the spout deeper into the tank? A gasoline fountain! Lovely. At least the tank of the power washer is now 2/3 full. The rest can evaporate off the floor, and me, while I wash the truck. Guess the cigar is a no-go at this point though. Inadvertently blowing up the garage would be so inconvenient. Although thirty pulls of the power washer starter cord later, blowing something up is starting to have some appeal. But jail time doesn't.

Fine. I'll do it the old-fashioned way, and go somewhere else. But who designs and implements a vapor-preventing gas spout that puts 25% of what goes through it everywhere but the gas tank? I'm pretty sure I just put more fuel into the environment in the last five minutes than I have in the last ten years.

Off to the car wash......

Tools

The army will provide you with tool kits. It just has a hard time keeping up with the knuckleheads who keep breaking or losing parts. Here we a very nice DeWalt battery powered set. Unfortunately, we don’t have:

Spare driver bits
Drill bits
Saw Blades
Screws
Hammers

Wait, the last one is wrong. We do have a Mark I Afghan hammer, AKA, a big rock. Not worth a damn for pulling nails, but you can really slam them in once you’ve got your technique down.

Little Bits of Stupidity.

Things that got my attention today:

The sergeant who thought it would be really neat to push a dead scorpion into a bottle, until he found out it wasn't dead (near miss).

The local national translator who was baffled by the fact that I wouldn't hand over Cipro anti-biotic pills so that he could take them prophylactically before he goes out to eat in the local village. There's a reason why antibiotics become ineffective, and taking two whenever you feel like it is one of them.

The third-world contractor who has diabetes, but is convinced it's due to evil spirits.

Love this place.

It Goes To 11

If you come in saying you have the worst abdominal pain of your life, and that you thought you wouldn't make the 50 yard walk to the aid station, while laughing, joking, pacing around, hopping onto the exam table, and failing to guard your abdomen, I would have to say you're probably full of shit, and not in the clinical sense.

The fact that you displayed all the characteristics of an attention-seeking fourteen year old girl on speed also does not help inspire confidence in your holding a commission. Thank goodness promotion has more to do with sit-ups, push-ups, the two-mile run, and the ability kiss ass like a porn star as we'd have a serious deficit of field grades.

Sometimes my hands literally tingle out of desire for an axe handle to swing.

Next!

Let’s see, on top of the usual aches and pains seen today: one case each of uncontrolled hypertension (180/120), facial wart cryoablation, week-old accidental self-inflicted stabbing that converted from a painful hematoma in the distal thigh at noon to a compartment syndrome helicopter medevac at 1700, extensive bilateral knee exam and documentation for persistent pain, grinding, and popping so the soldier can file a Line of Duty report for VA evaluation at home, lacerated finger care, and an interpreter with an eye infection, . With the last four patients all overlapping each other while my only other medic was unreachable and my sole provider having left the aid station to pack for a rapid redeployment home due to a family emergency. Got everybody out the door, and on the helo in the one case, to be followed by a phone call five minutes later from a warrant officer in Jalalabad wanting to know why I kept his helicopter on the landing pad for several minutes serving as an indirect fire target.

I think I earned my pay today.

And now, some images of the local version of Home Depot:

Commo Suckage

Apparently the internet on our section of camp is solar powered; if there are clouds it works intermittently, if there's snow it stops. The clinic DSN (digital secure phone) phone (yes, singular) hasn't worked for three days. That's not good, but it's also apparently some kind of primary link for this part of the camp's system. When ours doesn't work, nobody's on this camp works. Stringing the old Viet Nam era wire phone lines with sound-powered hand sets like I used in the early '90s is looking like a better choice at the moment.

Way to Plan.

Who the hell plans the monthly "surprise" urinalysis test for the night the troops have to board a military version of a schoolbus and travel for two hours to their duty? Number one, there was a two-hour delay while some slammed water for over an hour to provide specimens. Two, THERE'S NO LATRINE ON THE BUS.

I'm guessing this was laid on by someone with a paygrade higher than most who had to take the test. No inconvenience to them, therefore no problem. Nice.

The Joys of Dog Ownership

Nothing sets off a Friday evening like coming home from a long day at work to find that all three dogs decided bladder control just isn't that important.

But they're still better than a critter that shits in box then walks all over your kitchen countertops.

Winner, Winner, Lamb Kabab Dinner

Uncle Sam has seen fit to give me the Christmas gift of another all-expense paid trip.

Now then, where'd I put those plans for a still?

Intermittent Posting (Even More Than Normal)

Posting will be even more haphazard than usual, as the combination of an accelerated finance class studies(I feel like the guy above looks), Guard drill weekend, and work join to create a perfect version of The Suck. When the alternating periods of personal conviction that I'm on the low end of simple and desire to strangle random people cease, the usual torrent of intolerance, anger, and amazement will commence once again.

In the meantime, here's a belated Ugly Gun Sunday Post in honor of Sino-Soviet Saturday's topic:




I'm guessing the artist is question didn't take the time to modify the gas system to function, so we have a really poorly engineered straight-pull pistol at this point. Bet that flash hider works just super too. Although I'll admit, if this was given to me for free, I'd keep it just for shooting at dusk as personal entertainment.

Aging Sucks

My dog has developed a slow leak. The vet says for a ten year old Golden, that's not much of surprise, although it's seen more females. So, it's pills twice a day in an attempt to tighten up aged bladder control muscles in an effort to keep him house-worthy. That's in addition to glucosamine tablets for his arthritic joints, and low-dose steroids for allergy control. He's starting to remind me of some of my elderly patients, except he's better-natured than 75% of them.

I used to watch him do running laps around the yard just because he had energy to spare. Watching him age is truly depressing, and knowing he'll probably expire within the next three years is awful. Most dogs deserve better than this; he certainly does.

No! Bad Patient!

If you have a pacemaker, and the battery is almost expired, perhaps you should take advantage of the offer to be the first patient of the day. Especially as you've been retired for decades now, and have more free time than some of our other patients. But, if you must delay your procedure, it would be really, really nice if you would follow the nurse's instructions and NOT eat a bowl of ice cream several hours before your procedure. We don't do that because we think it's fun to make people hungry and dizzy; we do it because aspirating vomit into your lungs tends to compromise your ability to breath, which somewhat complicates the procedure. As we explained it to you several times before, please excuse us for not giving in to your expectation to be heavily sedated when you passed into the room.

Eventually, we managed to get started. Only to find out your leads also need to be replaced, in addition to your pacer. No big thing, that happens a lot. Thing wear out, we fix them. That's why we told you that this could happen. And sometimes we find out that other things have changed since you had your device installed many years ago. Like that your heart has an unpleasant tendency to drop into asystole without a pacer. So, it's certainly a good thing you have a pacemaker. And it's a good thing we replaced that poorly functioning lead that lets it stimulate your heart. What would be extra nice, would be if you would not do those things I just finished telling you to no do that could pull that new lead out of position, leaving your heart to its own, probably fatal, rhythm.

Last, I'm sorry you're upset I ruined your plans for the evening by telling you that you will be spending the night here. As both the doctor and I explained what could happen if your lead is dislodged, we thought it reasonably clear that being in a cardiac care facility is a good thing if you're heart stops. Stupid us. You've obviously seen through our charade, and into our master plan to rob you blind through forcing the government to use your tax dollars to make Medicare pay for your procedure.

Still, best of luck. I'd rather see you in another ten years to replace your expended battery, but somehow I won't be surprised if it's sooner.