Archive for the ‘Travel’ Category

Dumpsters at Dawn

Wednesday, February 25th, 2015

We decided to spend Valentine’s weekend in a very chilly Chattanooga. You may well ask when did they drop the Saint from Valentine? Was he defrocked? Did he do something wrong to be removed from Sainthood? Anyway, onto the main event:

We stayed at the Bluff View Inn in the Bluff Art District. The Bluff View Inn is a bed and breakfast establishment located in three turn-of-the-century houses overlooking the Tennessee River. However, that is not strictly true; only the Maclellan House and The Martin House overlook the river, while the Thompson House is nearer to the underpass. But more of that later.

On the subject of “bed and breakfast”, they only provide breakfast on weekends which is situated in the Mother Ship, The Maclellan House. Between Monday and Friday guests are given vouchers which they exchange for breakfast at the neighboring coffee shop, Rembrandt’s . Orders are taken at the counter which works very well if there are any tables available. We managed to find a table for two adjacent to the front door,  but experienced an arctic blast each time another customer walked in.

Chattanooga is a charming town and the main attractions are the “fresh water”acquarium, Lookout Mountain incorporating Ruby Falls, and the Hunter Art Museum. We had visited all three in the last few years, so we wanted to enjoy the river walk and the magnificent spectacle of the River Tennessee untainted by commercialism and pollution. Unfortunately, the temperature was a balmy 18 degrees faranheit  when we embarked on our Sunday morning constitution. Luckily we stumbled across the Chattanooga Choo Choo made famous by Glenn Miller, and managed to escape the frigid conditions for a few minutes. You’re possibly wondering who is Glenn Miller? Suffice to say I am a big fan of Glenn Miller’s big  band music from the 1940s.

A unique attraction for visitors is the Walnut Street Bridge. Built in 1890, and spanning 2,376 feet, it was the first highway bridge to connect downtown with the North Shore. The bridge closed to motor vehicles in 1978 and sat in disuse and disrepair for nearly a decade. it reopened in 1990 as a pedestrian walkway and is one of the longest pedestrian bridges in the world.

Returning to our accommodation we were given a very spacious room in the Thompson House. It was tastefully furnished with a collection of period pieces which enhanced the ambience of the room. Unfortunately the bed’s mattress felt like a rock which may have been specifically designed for previous guests, the Flinstones’ while the pillows had the texture of cement bags.

Nevertheless, a couple of bottles of bubbly intermixed with some fine chardonnays and pinot noirs helped dull the pain. That is until the early hours of Monday morning when I was unceremoniously awoken at 3.45 am by an horrendous beeping noise followed by yellow flashing lights. I opened my eyes and exclaimed “What the dickens!” Editorial intervention has censored the actual wording of the exclamation used. I momentarily thought I was in the middle of  a remake of “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.”

I looked out through the curtains and saw a dumpster maneouvring  back and forth in the parking lot. Leroy was barking out orders to his co-pilot: “up bit, down a bit, drop it! Do it again man, you didn’t make enough noise….crash, bang wallop.”

 

(Definition: a dumpster is a large waste container for garbage, trash, rubbish whatever your origins, designed to brought and taken away by a special truck or to be emptied into a garbage truck.)

Note to self: do not book a Sunday night at the Bluff Inn again.

It’s All Greek to Me.

Friday, February 13th, 2015

I drive part-time for a well known car and truck leasing company, and we comprise a band of twelve  just men; most of whom are retired from their real jobs and engage in this driving lark for comaradrie and  some pocket money. I should say we used to be men because I don’t remember discussing shows like “Downton Abbey” and exchanging recipes with other males when I was young and handsome.

Well, one of the stalwarts of the group, Nick the Greek, retired recently through ill health. It was a mixed blessing because he was the on the wrong side of 80 and the speed and volume of traffic on state roads (expressways, motorways ) was beginning to make him nervous. So much so that a few years ago he convinced an unsuspecting driving associate to take side roads from Atlanta to Savannah when they delivered a car to a customer. Normally, its a 275 mile route one way and a round trip normally takes 8 hours. On this occasion they clocked up over 14 hours by taking what Nick called a short cut!

Nick is a second generation Greek and is extremely proud of his heritage. He could have been a consultant on the movie “My Big Fat Greek Wedding.” He was adamant that his children should only marry fellow Greeks, but apparently he’s having a battle convincing his grandchildren to follow suit.

Nick was a banker by profession, and to say he was  careful with him money would be like referring to Shylock and Fagin as benevolent benefactors. We usually grab lunch in fast food restaurants, but Nick would bring his own lunch, lovingly prepared by his wife, and sit at the table with us. However, one time, we had lunch in a burger bar which had waiter service. When the waiter asked him what he would like to order he replied: “I’m on a special diet (the cheap skate diet.”) The waiter asked him if he would  like a glass of water, and without batting an eyelid Nick replied: “yes please, but could I have some ice and a slice lemon  with the water please?”

Nick is a deeply religious man and is heavily involved in the Greek Orthodox Church. A couple of years ago he became an Archon which is the highest honor that can be bestowed on a civilian in the GOC. One of the uninitiated amongst the drivers asked him: “How did you get the part of Archon in the forthcoming Star Wars movie?” Nick gave him a withered look and bit into the remainder of his homemade sandwich.

Nick is not at all  demonstrative or given to theatrical outbursts like some of the other diverse characters on the team, but equally does not take himself too seriously and occasionally has a twinkle in his eye with a sense of the ridiculous.

One of the funniest moments of his driving career involved retrieving an old box truck from one of the customers. The customer informed us that the truck was tucked at the back of the warehouse and could only exit the building in reverse.

Unfortunately the reverse gear was not working and the truck would have to pushed manually outside. Nick was instructed to sit behind the wheel while two burly drivers and myself  attempted to push the vehicle to its destination. We were making little progress until Shrek (one of the burly drivers  weighing in at over 300 pounds packed into a 6′ 7″ frame) becoming quite crimson in the face screeched: ” Nick has got the effing brake on!”

Nick, get well soon.

 

 

A Wine Club Dinner in a Mailbox.

Tuesday, December 2nd, 2014

I have just returned from visiting my children and grand children in the UK. I missed some of the food over there and I took advantage of having kippers for breakfast (only once,) a splendid carvery  at a bargain price in Totnes, and  a liver and bacon casserole in The Old Inn, Widdicombe, Dartmoor. For my last night I plumped for a whole plaice (bones et al) which while very tasty tested my dexterity at maneuvering around the umpteen bones.

I didn’t realize that my stomach would react so ferociously to British culinary delights which I happily grew up with. Possibly it’s the march of time that’s taken its toll on my digestive system because it is 18 years since I emigrated to the USA. I was looking forward to making a Madras curry when I arrived home which may sound like a misnomer, but I’ve been eating curries from the age of 21. Swansea is regarded as the curry capital of the world, and there must be at least 60 Indian restaurants in the Swansea area. It may have something to do with the water or the  Welsh and Indian accents being very similar.

We hadn’t been home but for a few days when we were on our way to the bi-monthly wine club dinner. We enjoyed a baker’s dozen (13) in the club until one couple decided they could not cope with the various international cuisines that members were inspired to make. Their unique contribution to the menu was a spam casserole which consisted of two ingredients: spam and ketchup. The writing was on the wall when a few members complained of feeling very nauseas the next day.

We were back on an even keel, and the forthcoming dinner was of the Thai variety which I like very much.  The wine club is confined to our neighborhood so the drive isn’t a long one. Unfortunately the driveway to our hosts’ house is very steep and winding. To those familiar with Swansea it was tantamount to driving to the top of Kilvey Hill. For our international travelers, it favored the famous” zig-zag” Lombard Street  in San Francisco. Half way up the driveway one would encounter a formidable tree which would play an active role in later proceedings. Despite my pleadings my wife insisted we parked the car at the top of the drive near the front door. Heaven forbid we derive exercise climbing the steep gradient.

It is an eclectic group of people, but for some odd reason four of the eleven no longer drink wine. It was a mildly enjoyable evening and light hearted conversation filled the air. The food and wine were very palatable and members had made an effort with their pairings. What on earth do you pair with spam casserole you may well ask, rot gut?

Our evenings don’t go gently into the darkest night. They are usually over by 9.30pm when members begin to drift away. I don’t drive very well in the dark, but my wife didn’t relish reversing her car down the driveway and suggested one of the hostesses undertake the task for us.

At this point my male ego went into overdrive and I practically screamed out: “I’m a professional driver (which I am since I work part-time as a driver,) and I’m taking this baby down.” All well and good when you haven’t imbibed in copious amounts of wine particularly when you are making up a shortfall of 4 members.

I gave the impending obstacle a once over and discerned there were two bends to negotiate one of which was adjacent to the formidable tree. Very slowly and carefully I backed down the driveway cognizant of the formidable tree. It seemed like an eternity, but I miraculously reversed around the bends and mercifully avoided the tree. I was home and dry save for  a harmless little curve  egressing onto the highway which I failed to notice.

I triumphantly backed straight onto what I deduced as the highway and suddenly heard a sickening crunch. I immediately braked and pulled forward with the attention of  heading for home and sanctuary. Then I glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed the hostesses’ mail box lying prostrate on the ground. (For non-Americans  most houses have a free standing mail box situated on the road frontage. It comprises a wooden post approximately 4-5 feet high and a metal mail box sits on top of it.) I thought no problem; lean it back up and away to go. Unfortunately the post had snapped in two (hence the crunch,) and the box was badly dented.

I tried pushing the top half of the post into the ground, but it stood only 3 feet tall; good enough perhaps for a hobbit but unacceptable for the US Mail Service. Following a series of groveling apologies, we gave the bemused hostesses a cheque for $60 to pay for a suitable replacement, and my assurance not to interfere with reconstruction. My wife’s car, which is a sturdy Crown Victoria, was unscathed with barely a scratch.

Moral of the story……take a taxi. It’s cheaper!!!!

 

 

A Trip for the Ages when Bunny Foo Foo went AWOL

Monday, April 14th, 2014

I thought this was a good topic for a blog, but I’m not sure whether I should it present is as a travel log or reminiscences from times gone by. I’ve decided to ramble and see where it takes me.

I recently spent a delightful two weeks back home in the UK and for once the weather gods were very kind to me. I often tell my American friends that you rarely witness a cloudless blue sky in the British Isles, but those weather gods were determined to make me a liar. Pennard Golf Club had never looked more spectacular. The fairways were shimmering under an early spring radiant blue sky with not a breath of wind to disturb the circling seagulls or meandering sheep. I can’t imagine another golf hole like the seventh where you tee off facing the ocean 200 feet below a magnificent cliff top. On the right hand side of the fairway lays the ruins of Pennard Castle which dates back to the 12th Century and is sufficient to blow the mind of an American golfer seeking to play true links golf.

Meanwhile I popped into the Gower Golf Club a few miles down the road. When I was town planner I had a hand in recommending that a local farmer convert his dairy farm into a golf course. The gruff but affable owner Mr. Jenkins came to see me in the planning department, and told me in no uncertain terms that “the bottom had dropped out” of dairy farming and the Ministry of Agriculture had advised him to contact his local planning department for ideas on alternative uses for his land.

He initially scoffed at my idea of a golf course, but within a week he returned to the office and admitted it had possibilities, and lo and behold within eighteen months the concept was a reality. I never thought for one moment that a dairy farmer with no experience of golf would obtain planning permission, hire a respected golf architect, Donald Steel, to design a golf layout from his cow pastures, and make a success of it. Sadly Mr. Jenkins passed away a few years ago, but the golf club continues to thrive in the hands of his son and daughter.

Food played a prominent part in my trip. I stayed at my brother’s in Cardiff for two nights and he kindly prepared two delightful Welsh breakfasts of lava bread, cockles, bacon and eggs. Superb cuisine! A few days later I had dinner with some old friends of mine in the King Arthur Hotel, Reynoldston, Gower. I was determined to continue the Welsh theme and ordered trout in a cockle sauce. It was truly exquisite ably supported by a roaring log fire in a convivial pub atmosphere and washed down with a pint of Reverend James.

In the second week of my journey I left the friendly confines of Wales and traveled over the border into England to visit with my son, daughter, their respective partners, and my dear grandchildren. My son lives near to a couple restaurants, Italian and Indian, and the Italian is particularly good. I have visited the Indian a couple of times now, but the jury is still out. Having dined out on the plethora of Indian restaurants in my home town of Swansea since the age of 23, I can be highly critical of Indian restaurants.

When in Rome do as the Romans do; when in Britain eat fish and chips. The Rockfish in Dartmouth is a tad more than a fish and chips shop. It can justifiably be called a seafood restaurant. We ordered monkfish, lemon sole and the traditional cod; all of which were delicious. We had the choice of breaded or batter on our fish and everyone was delighted with their meal. Oh, and the chips were crispy and dry. My favorite chip and shop was Covelli’s in Mumbles, but I received the shocking news that they had closed their doors. The Rockfish is now firmly ensconced as my number one location for fish and chips.

There were other culinary moments along the way. Rossi’s opposite the Liberty Stadium in Swansea has a good reputation for fish and chips and I chose plaice which I found to be a little greasy. I popped into the King’s Head in Treboeth the previous day for lunch which was and old stamping ground of my dad’s, and chose the bangers and mash which unfortunately was served with congealed gravy. Enough said! I had dinner with my brother and niece (who I hadn’t seen in 16 years) in the Traveller’s Rest on Caerphilly Mountain. I can’t remember what I ordered, but it tasted good.

Another fine tradition peculiar to the British is the Sunday roast lunch and carvery served in countless establishments around the country. My daughter took us to Ye Olde Smokey House, a 17th Century pub just outside Paignton and the roast beef, rich gravy and wine were exquisite. My American wife has grown accustomed over the years to a carvery and was a little disappointed with her Yorkshire pudding. Well there’s no pleasing some people.

Another goal of my trip was to reconnect with friends I hadn’t seen for many years. I stayed a couple of nights with Rob and Anne and I don’t believe I have been so well looked after since my mum passed away. Rob was supposed to join my friend Paul and I for a round of golf at Royal Porthcawl but pulled out with car trouble. My brother also declined the invitation but generously loaned me his clubs. Royal Porthcawl is one of the best link courses in the British Isles and looked idyllic bathed in sunshine early in March. The Senior British Open is being held there in July which confirms its status as one of the prestigious golf courses in the country.

Following a couple pints and a sandwich in the quaint clubhouse, Paul and I made a mad dash for the Blue Anchor in Aberthaw which is a thatched roof 14th Century hostelry in the Vale of Glamorgan. The building suffered a serious fire nearly 10 years but they did an excellent job in remodeling it losing nothing of its original ambience. My last port of call on the old friend’s front was reuniting with Sam who I hadn’t seen since I emigrated in 1996. We met in the New Inn in Penllargaer and he gave me a great big bear hug. He hadn’t changed a bit which is more than can be said for me!

 

 

 

Quirky Memories of Christmas Past

Saturday, December 28th, 2013

.Whenever I open a can of tuna my thoughts turn to a Christmas many moons ago. My marriage had broken down and I would not be seeing my children on Christmas Day. I ended up at my brother’s home and one thing led to another with me storming out of the house just before the turkey was placed on the table. I drove 45 miles home smoldering all the way. I slammed the front door shut, closed all the curtains, unplugged the phone, opened a can of tuna and sat down to watch an “Only Fools and Horses” special, or it could have been the “Morecambe and Wise Christmas Show.”

Suddenly I realized I had left my parents stranded at my brother’s house. Luckily my brother’s father-in-law gave them a ride home. Later that night I furtively drove over to my mum’s expecting a deserved torrid reception, but she was very concerned for me. She smiled and said: “You should have told me you were leaving; I would have come with you!”

My first date with my ex-wife was at the Christmas office dance in Mumbles. She lived on the other side of town and was staying the night at her girlfriend’s parents’ house. The girl’s parents were very snooty and during a conversation asked their guest if her father had any hobbies. She replied he enjoyed horse racing, and they asked how many horses her father owned. She replied sheepishly that he didn’t own any, but he liked to bet on them!!

It doesn’t snow very often in Swansea, but a few years ago we were supplied with the white stuff on New Year’s Eve.  My wife had flown over from America and we were enjoying the festivities at home in Tycoch. To celebrate the New Year, she adorned a long fleece coat, stepped out the front door and lay on her back in the snow flailing her arms and legs to create a snow angel. One or two of the neighbors were twitching at their curtains totally bewildered by the appearance of an angel. I guess it’s an American thing.

One year before we were married I flew over to America to spend Christmas with my future wife. One of her favorite activities during the festive season was selecting a live tree from the Christmas tree farm near to her home. This is a time when size does matter not to mention thickness, stature, coloring and type.  We duly arrived at the farm with the temperature approaching 75 degrees, and armed with a saw, we set out in search of the perfect tree.  She immediately spotted one that matched all her requirements, but chose to peruse the rest of the crop just in case there was a better tree lurking in the background.

Two or three hours later, we returned to the first tree she liked and duly felled it in lumberjack fashion. I’m not sure whether my internal temperature had exceeded the external temperature, but she did mention something about me resembling a kettle about to boil.

My wife loves surprise gifts at Christmas which drives me crazy. She won’t allow me to buy her clothes. She has a Kindle so I can’t give her books, and her music tastes are quite eclectic. My standby was usually a jewelry store located in Stone Mountain. But on Christmas Eve, much to my horror, I discovered it had gone out of business. I was at my wit’s end, devoid of ideas, and the only gift I had bought her was a vanity mirror. On Christmas morning the base of the tree was stacked with my presents from her while the vanity mirror stood alone. I’m still not sure to this day whether she wanted to laugh or cry. On reflection she was definitely in a state of shock and awe.

I hope you all have a happy and healthy New Year.

 

Hell on Wheels

Monday, October 14th, 2013

A couple of weeks ago I visited England to see my two new grandchildren, Alice and Alex. They live 170 miles apart and I was forced to rent a car to simplify my mode of travel. Little did I realize I would be at the mercy of BMWs, Mercs and Audis. What is it with the drivers that own these models? They do believe they own the road and woe betide the discerning driver that gets in their way.

I know there are 3 lanes on a motorway and the middle lane is earmarked for overtaking, but I see little point in staying within the inside lane where you have to continually negotiate slower traffic merging onto or exiting the motorway. The speed limit is 70mph which I hovered around on every trip, but the aforementioned models regularly zoomed past me in the outside lane breaking the sound barrier in the process, and totally oblivious of a succession of speed cameras which buzzed my GPS System every five minutes.

I don’t usually suffer from road rage when I drive on Atlanta roads although there is sufficient reason to do so. I guess the possibility of another driver packing a gun is a sobering deterrent and rage is restricted to the gnashing of teeth and turning the air blue which are safer option.  But having drivers up one backside and then swerving violently around you as frequently occurred on the motorway is not my idea of fun.

I was accompanying my wife on a business trip and we stayed at the Radisson Blue which is a charming hotel (if you can find it within the spaghetti road network) in the heart of Guildford on the outskirts of London. I should advise you Guildford’s heart is slowly having the blood squeezed from it like pips from lemon by the myriad of roads that attempt to slither their way through the town center.

Woe betide the motorist new to the area (me for example) that does not place himself in the correct lane for egress and regress. Be warned however. If you are lucky enough to negotiate your way through the Guildford triangle a plethora of roundabouts lie in wait on the way to your destination. Little wonder there are so many pubs in England. Surviving a road trip from A and B calls for a drink or three to calm the shattered nerves.

My son navigated us to Farnham which is a delightful historic town full of nooks and crannies where mercifully one can escape the highways and boy racers. Cobbled streets, narrow lanes and archways allow the pedestrian safe haven from the automobile providing you don’t sprain your ankle on the uneven terrain.

A 170 mile road trip from Guildford to Paignton, Devon comprised 6 hours on a Friday afternoon. Most of the time was taken up by sheer volume of traffic leaving the urban sprawl for a weekend at the English Riviera (Torquay and Paignton for the uninitiated.) Every cloud has a silver lining, and we had the opportunity of visiting Agatha Christie’s former summer house “Greenway” which is now owned by the National Trust. All the rooms are decorated in the 1950s style and have enough artifacts to sink the Titanic again.

Notwithstanding the antics of the obnoxious British motorist the trip was a great success. My wife met her new boss for the first time, my children and grandchildren are healthy and happy, and were not too displeased to see me. I also hooked up with an old friend in Castlecombe which is a picturesque village in the splendid Cotswolds. We enjoyed a scrumptious lunch of haddock and thrice-baked chips at the quaint Salutation Inn which is highly recommended on Trip Advisor. Go and check it out.

 

A Four Week Roller Coaster

Friday, August 2nd, 2013

This is a very long blog, totally self-indulgent, but dedicated to the nursing staff of North Side Hospital Atlanta. It all began very happily. My son’s fiancée gave birth to a beautiful baby girl Alice Violet on 21 May. Four days later I was experiencing severe stomach pains which I related to an unfortunate confrontation with a Friday Subway special.

Twelve hours later my wife drove me in the wee small hours to the Emergency Room at Northside Hospital. Following several knee-jerking lunges with the physician’s assistant, X-rays, and finally a cat scan it was confirmed I had appendicitis and the infected organ would be whipped out later in the afternoon. “Routine procedure; nothing to worry about”, said the affable but rather coiffured surgeon.

I had never been in hospital save to visit people, so initially in a strange macabre way the whole hospital experience and the” journey on a gurney” to the operating theatre was a novelty which I may add quickly wore off.

The key-hole surgery went according to plan and there was a possibility I could be home in three days. Unfortunately my intestines reacted to the anesthesia and promptly shut down; initially unbeknown to doctors, nurses or technicians. A three day stay turned into a two week nightmare. My stomach became distended resembling an over inflated beach ball.

I was diagnosed with an ileus (1.) A Hispanic nurse told me that it was commonly referred to as “a lazy gut.” It would wake up in its own good time and eventually I would be as good as new. I was discharged the following Saturday, but two days later I was readmitted with terrific stomach pain and suffering from severe dehydration.

The ER doctor determined that four liters of gunge needed to be removed from my stomach which required installing a NG tube (2) up my nose and down into my stomach to suck the damn stuff out. The NG tube was taped to my face to minimize movement and I now resembled “The Elephant Man.” I can honestly attest that the discomfort caused by this apparatus was unimaginable.

I was wheeled back into a private room and later that afternoon I was introduced to the PICC line (3) which supplied me with nutrition intravenously. The PICC line was effectively my lifeline. The saline drip, antibiotics and nutrition were all fed through the mechanism. Blood samples were also drawn from it which thankfully meant I was no longer a pin cushion.

By the way you are not allowed to sleep in hospital. Your vitals are checked on a regular basis including visits by a nurse and technician in the early hours. Blood pressure, temperature, and oxygen levels are carefully monitored to the exclusion of a good night’s rest. To be honest it was difficult attempting to sleep with a plastic tube stuck up my nose.

I endured the NG tube for two days until Nurse Stephanie mercifully removed the contraption with minimum fuss and pain. I understand now why nurses are respectfully known as “Angels.” My wife also falls into the “Angel” category. She is not normally the nursing type but she stepped up to the plate for me and proved to be a rock star.

I was tentatively re-introduced to solid food for the next few days and my internal plumbing slowly began returning to normal. On Friday 7th June, my son-in-law phoned from England to inform me that my daughter had given birth to a baby boy, Alexander Charles, weighing in at an even 9lbs. Things were definitely looking up, and I was discharged the following day; hoping I would not be returning again in the immediate future.

I was home but weak as a kitten. I was looking forward to flying to California the following Friday (14th June) to celebrate our 20th Wedding Anniversary. The trip had been planned for months and the doctors had given me the green light to go. I had a few days to rest up before we boarded the plane, and despite feeling and looking like one of the “walking dead,” my rehabilitation was progressing in the right direction.

Unfortunately, the night before our departure (13th June,) Atlanta was subjected to a violent thunderstorm. In the early evening I heard the wind howling viciously around the house followed by tremendous thunder and lightning and heavy rain lashing at the roof and windows. I decided to take refuge in the basement and momentarily I heard the huge crash of trees somewhere on our property. Three “sixty foot” trees and one “eighty foot” poplar had been uprooted in the backyard; one narrowly missing the side of our house and another crashed onto the roof of our neighbor’s house. Our power lines had been pulled to the ground by the fallen trees, but remarkably we didn’t lose power. Nevertheless the backyard resembled a war zone.

My neighbor insisted that we continue with the trip on the basis that the insurance company would take care of the damage to his house. My friend also assured us that he would keep a watchful eye on the house while we were away. Nevertheless, I couldn’t speak for my wife but I was beginning to think we weren’t supposed to get on the plane to California.

Despite my trepidations our flight made it to San Francisco, and we made our way up the coast of Northern California to spend eight relaxing days in a beautiful house perched on a cliff enjoying panoramic views of the Pacific Ocean. Just what the doctor ordered.

(1)   What is an ileus?

An ileus is a blockage of the intestines (also called the bowel).  The ileus prevents the movement of food, fluid, and gas through the intestines.  The blockage is due to the lack of movement of the intestinal muscles.  The intestinal tract is made up of small bowel and large bowel.  The small bowel has three parts: the duodenum, the jejunum, and the ileum.  The large bowel has four parts: the ascending, transverse, descending, and sigmoid colon.  An ileus can occur anywhere in the intestinal tract.

(2What is a Nasogastric tube:

 A tube that is passed through the nose and down through the nasopharynx and esophagus into the stomach. Abbreviated NG tube. It is a flexible tube made of rubber or plastic, and it has bidirectional potential. It can be used to remove the contents of the stomach, including air, to decompress the stomach, or to remove small solid objects and fluid, such as poison, from the stomach. An NG tube can also be used to put substances into the stomach, and so it may be used to place nutrients directly into the stomach when a patient cannot take food or drink by mouth.

 

(3)   What is a PICC Line and Why Do I Need It?

A PICC line is, by definition and per its acronym, a peripherally inserted central catheter. It is long, slender, small, flexible tube that is inserted into a peripheral vein, typically in the upper arm, and advanced until the catheter tip terminates in a large vein in the chest near the heart to obtain intravenous access. It is similar to other central lines as it terminates into a large vessel near the heart. However, unlike other central lines, its point of entry is from the periphery of the body ? the extremities. And typically the upper arm is the area of choice.

A PICC line provides the best of both worlds concerning venous access. Similar to a standard IV, it is inserted in the arm, and usually in the upper arm under the benefits of ultrasound visualization. Also, PICCs differ from peripheral IV access but similar to central lines in that a PICCs termination point is centrally located in the body allowing for treatment that could not be obtained from standard periphery IV access. In addition, PICC insertions are less invasive, have decreased complication risk associated with them, and remain for a much longer duration than other central or periphery access devices.

Using ultrasound technology to visualize a deep, large vessel in the upper arm, the PICC catheter is inserted by a specially trained and certified PICC nurse specialist. Post insertion at the bedside, a chest x-ray is obtained to confirm ideal placement. The entire procedure is done in the patient’s room decreasing discomfort, transportation, and loss of nursing care.

 

 

Cruising on a Sunny Afternoon (Part 2)

Friday, July 12th, 2013

Selecting your Stateroom

The staterooms vary greatly and so do the prices. We generally select a veranda or balcony cabin. You should make a selection based upon your itinerary. A late season Alaskan or Transatlantic cruise may offer limited time to sit out on the veranda of have room service breakfast outside. Naturally if most of the cruise is in warm or mild weather the veranda is special. If you do select a veranda, be sure to have room-service breakfast (delivered at no additional charge,) cocktails at sunset, or just quiet reading time as you float above the brine.

Dining

When you book your cruise, you will be offered an early or late dinner seating. Early seating is usually around 6.00pm and late seating is at approximately 8.00pm.We prefer the late seating. If you have been off the ship during the day you may feel rushed to return and prepare for dinner at 6.00pm. We have also enjoyed the time to shower, dress and have a pre-dinner cocktail or two! The main entertainment is usually at 8.30pm for the early diners and 7 or 7.30pm for the late seating diners.

Tables in the main dining room range from “tables for two” and up to “tables for twelve.” We always request a table for two simply because we have witnessed too many examples of overbearing loud bores with opinions about everything dominating the dinner table discussions, and we avoid them at all costs.

Enjoy the experience if you are assigned to a polite, interesting and enjoyable dining group. Alternatively, speak with the maître d about another table. We have always found them to be most gracious and accommodating. You are left to your own devices for breakfast and lunch. They usually comprise buffets with hundreds of options. We have always enjoyed the poolside grills as an option and of course room service for breakfast.

Dinner is almost always a delight. All the ships we have graced offer 12-15 entrees. They usually have a “standing” menu that may include 5-6 entrees which are available every day and a featured menu with specials which vary daily.

Portions are average in size so don’t be shy. My wife and I have often ordered 3 entrees to share between us. Don’t hesitate to request another entrée if you are not happy with your initial order. Remember you are a paying guest!

Tipping

Most cruises now allow you to pre-pay your gratuities which we prefer. We’ve never been disappointed with the cruise staff, and requests made to our waiters and cabin stewards have always been quickly and graciously fulfilled. Prepaid tips avoid the last day hassle of distribution and possible embarrassment.

Dressing for Dinner

Gentlemen: “country club” casual, khaki pants, dress shirts, possible a blazer. Tuxedos are nice to have but by no means a requirement. We have witnessed a few people turned away from the main dining room on “formal” nights for showing up in a Mickey Mouse T-shirt and blue jeans. Kudos to the maitre’d.

Ladies in cocktail dresses and dressy slacks and tops are perfectly acceptable.

On Board Activities

The activities on board ship are as varied as the passengers. We’ve always enjoyed the guest lectures and trivia contests. Anyone who is bored on a cruise ship needs their head examined.

General Ramblings

We really enjoy cruising. We have three more planned for the next year: a 14 day Baltic cruise, an 8 day Caribbean cruise, and another 14 day Transatlantic to Southampton, UK. We feel cruising is the best vacation bang for the buck. We usually pay less than $100 per person per day. Remember that includes “hotel,” all meals, entertainment and transportation (excluding appropriate airfare.) One final piece of advice on disembarkation: on the last night of the cruise passengers are required to leave their bags outside their rooms for collection. You will be re-united with them on the quayside when you have vacated the ship the following morning. Alternatively you can choose to carry the bags off the ship yourself. It can be rather cumbersome, but exiting the ship and port is much faster.

We hope these “ramblings” will help if you decide to take your first cruise or planning your next water adventure.

 

 

 

Cruising on a Sunny Afternoon (Part 1)

Friday, July 12th, 2013

My good friend Bob and his wife Pat love cruises. So much so he’s probably spent more time on the high seas than Admiral Lord Nelson. Consequently he kindly agreed to be my guest blogger and provide us with an insight into the art of cruising.

Taking a cruise can be the most relaxing and rewarding type of vacation (that’s holiday to Brits!) one can experience. We do not propose to be cruise experts, travel consultants, travel agents, or travel writers. We have taken 16 cruises in the past 8 years and would like to share our experiences, some insights, and hints that may help you to plan your next for first cruise.

Planning your Cruise

The first step should be decide where you would like to go and for how long. The internet is a treasure trove of information. Just type in “cruises.”  We have taken 7 day Caribbean cruises, 15 day Transatlantic cruises, 14 day Mediterranean cruises, and an Alaskan West Coast cruise. All were wonderful and deeply enjoyable. We have used travel agents, cruise line agents, and cruise consolidators. However my personal favorite travel specialist is my wife.

Each has benefits and pitfalls. A professional travel agent can be invaluable. Be sure to select one that is licensed or bonded and well versed in cruising. There is no fee for using a travel agent. Beware they may steer you towards cruise lines that pay them a larger commission or shower the agent with personal cruise benefits. Using an agent would be very helpful for a first time cruiser.

Cruise lines have their own in house sales people (800 plus.) You will speak to a real live person which is a treat especially if you have ever been re-routed by your on line helpline to Bombay (Mumbai.) They are knowledgeable and helpful. They will advise you on specials and any free upgrades that you are entitled to; such as gratuities included, shipboard credit, or cabin upgrades.

We have found that cruise consolidators or cruise line specialists are great resources. We have used “crucon.com” and “cruise west.com.” They are specialists in all types of cruises, represent all cruise lines, and generally offer the best benefits. We have found that their prices are lower than cruise line sites or agents, as they offer additional benefits beyond the cruise lines. We have received extra shipboard cash credits, free drink packages, free gratuities, free dinners in the ship specialty restaurants and cabin upgrades.

You pay no additional fee for their service, but you must do most of your research yourself. They are not there to educate you or hold your hand. They book your cruise period. We have always been happy with their service. Last but not least, and my favorite source, is my own personal cruise specialist, my wife!

Now that we have some experience in cruising, she will spend hundreds of hours combing through all of the sites to create our ideal cruise. She has been fantastic and discovered some incredible deals. For example our recent Transatlantic 14 day cruise included all gratuities, beer and wine package, $300 shipboard credit, free bottle of champagne in the room upon arrival, veranda cabin, and concierge level for $899 each. That’s approximately $65 per day! A word of caution; I would not recommend this for first time cruisers,

 

Where to Cruise and for How Long

We have taken 5 “one week Caribbean cruises” with multiple island stops. They are fun and pure escapism but for our tastes too short. We have taken a 15 day Vancouver to Alaska to San Diego cruise. We went late in the season (mid-September) and the weather was brutal. We were the last cruise of the season. The weather was cold, and some ports of call were partially closed and boarded up.

We have taken 4 Mediterranean cruises both eastern and western. They have all been enjoyable and culturally enriching. The ships usually leave from a major city like Barcelona or Rome. They cruise at night and in the morning you have arrived in a new city. We love to explore and leave the ship either on our own if we have been there before or take the cruise ship tour.

I would recommend the ship’s tours if it is your first time in that city. The tours can be expensive, but they are well organized and very informative. These tours gave us a flavor for many cities and we returned to them later to explore on our own. The only negative is flying to Europe each way, and the air fare can be very expensive. Furthermore, the flights can last between 9-12 hours one way.

To be continued…….

Gone Fishing with J R Hartley and Crew

Wednesday, June 12th, 2013

I had never done any fishing which is surprising when you consider I lived three quarters of my life living near the coast. I once tossed half a loaf on the end of a bamboo and string into the lake in Brynmill Park when I was a kid, but that merely terrorized the duck population.

So when one of my work associates, Joe, suggested a weekend fishing trip to Panama City Beach, Florida, I signed up immediately. Joe owns a bungalow (I can’t remember what Americans would call it) approximately 600 feet from the water’s edge, so accommodation was taken care of.

Terry, Max, and young George (he’s 47 and compared to the rest of the motley crew he’s a whipper snapper) are also work associates and comprised the rest of the group. Terry, the master angler, was already down in Panama City Beach with his wife and family and we would join him on the pier at some appropriate time.

Max and George are professional musicians and were committed to Friday night gigs. They would hook up with us sometime late Saturday morning. Joe and I drove down together on Friday morning to set up base camp.  Panama City Beach is a 51/2 hour road trip from Atlanta and following a prolonged delay in Phenix City looking for a Chick-filc-a, we arrived at Camp Joe around 1.00pm.

Joe gave me a tour of Panama City Beach which has developed rapidly in the last 5 years and now resembles South Beach, Miami. Surprisingly for mid-April it was rather cold and rainy and we elected to have dinner at Hunts Oyster Bar, Panama City. This is a genuine” hole in the wall” establishment; no frills but hundreds of fresh oysters shucked by bar tenders in front of your very eyes. The place was packed to the rafters and following an hour’s wait we were seated at the bar. Joe consumed two dozen oysters without blinking, but he was no competition for the young lady sitting next to him who demolished four dozen.

My stomach prefers to repel oysters and I settled for the day’s special; Grouper Throats. They don’t sound very appealing, but they were quite tender and palatable. Following a sizeable portion of Hunt’s unique atmosphere and quirky characters we returned to Base Camp for a good night’s sleep.

Max arrived next morning around 11.00am and we made the short journey to the pier to hook up with Terry. The pier is 1500 feet long, but before we had time to catch our breath Terry thrust a rod into my hand and I was a virgin angler no more. Call it beginner’s luck but I caught three Spanish mackerel; the biggest weighing in at 21/2 lbs.

The pier resembled a battlefield with the blood and guts of caught fish spewed onto the floor because of hooks catching the fish unceremoniously and fishermen gutted and cleaned the fish before depositing them in their coolers.

We returned to Camp Joe and George had finally turned up by mid-afternoon. Our fishing expedition was rewarded by the arrival of cocktail hour. Joe and Max attempted to introduce their friends Ezra Brooks and Evan Williams to me but I politely declined and was content to sip on a glass of cool chardonnay.

George was the anointed designated driver and drove us to the local Winn Dixie to buy provisions to accompany the fish we were grilling for the evening meal. Joe and George flirted with every female in the store; young and old, thin or fat; it didn’t really matter. Meanwhile I stayed with the task at hand and unceremoniously shucked my corn much to the dismay of my cohorts who claimed I was making “one hell of a mess!” in the grocery section.

We returned to base camp and in the role of self-appointed chef I grilled the Spanish mackerel with a bunch of vegetables. We each chose our own particular beverage to accompany the meal and everyone appeared satisfied the food. Surprisingly the grilled corn was a huge hit with everyone.

The next day I couldn’t wait to return to the pier to continue my quest for fish. Unfortunately reality hit me right between the eyes and I didn’t catch another thing for the remainder of the trip despite the exertions and encouragement from master angler Terry.

We spent another raucous evening at Base Camp swopping stories about the one that got away. As the alcohol flowed I wasn’t quite sure whether we were talking about fish or women. We all agreed the trip had been a huge success and we enjoyed each other’s company. So much so that the next fishing trip is in the planning stage for October; destination Gulf Shores, Mobile, Alabama courtesy of Max.