Tag Archives: health

The Menace From Beyond The Grave Situation

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While we set our supercomputers to analyse processes that heat our CPUs surreptitiously, we give you another list of books added recently to our old-fashioned library of paper-and-ink products:

  • Facts on Aviation For The Future Flyers Of Tennessee, (c) 1944 Tennessee Bureau of Aeronautics, Nashville, Tennessee
  • Submarine! The Story of Undersea Fighters, by Kendall Banning, illustrated by Charles Rosner, (c) 1942 by Artists and Writers Guild, Inc., printed in the United States of America
  • The First Book of Moses called Genesis, translated out of the original Hebrew and with the former translations currently compared and revised, set forth in 1911 and commonly known as the King James version, pocket edition by American Bible Society (instituted in the year 1816), New York
  • Stamp collecting book by Richard Hill, Sunset Trail, Knoxville 18, Tennessee, manufactured by U.S. Government Printing Office
  • History of America, by Carl Russell Fish, Professor of American History, University of Wisconsin, illustrations by Leon D’Emo and Will Crawford, (c) 1925, 1928 by American Book Company, Made in U.S.A., owned by Ralph Eldridge, Knoxville Central High School senior 1932
  • The Kingsport Strike, by Sylvester Petro, (c) January 1967, Arlington House, New Rochelle, NY
  • International Atlas and Gazetteer of the World, containing a new and complete Descriptive Gazetteer of the Principal Countries of the World together with a complete collection of up-to-date Political Maps of the World, Statististical [sic] Tables, Census Figures, Air Line Distances, etc., (c) 1935 by C.S. Hammond & Co., Inc., Map Engravers, Printers and Publishers since 1900

Meanwhile, our staff in the Department of Dastardly Deeds has developed a potential storyline for us to follow:

By experimenting with chemical formulae, scientists have perfected the ideal poison letter.  Soon, they will infiltrate the labs of laser printer cartridge manufacturers, change the ingredients of the cartridge contents and release the newest formula into the homes, factories, offices, Internet cafes, construction trailers and libraries of the world.

Then, when the time is right, they will activate the signal that tells the cartridges to print a special circuit on paper.

The circuit, combined with the special ink that, after being heated and fused to the paper, uses the release of heat as the paper cools to send a strong enough “charge” to a blob of ink in one corner of the paper to achieve a minor goal of the Department of Dastardly Deeds.

The scientists have asked us not to reveal their goal at this time.

We won’t, because we have to figure out if their goal aligns with our major milestones before we decide to increase or eliminate their department budget.

While that’s going on, we’ll let you know that the brain circuit reconfiguration we’re testing on Jesse Jackson, Jr., may work this time.  We have tried similar experiments on other members in the public eye (refrain from referring to our previous work as “lobotomy,” electroshock treatment, drug cocktail service, etc.), in order to keep them in line with our milestones.

Those who haven’t stayed on message have been moved aside (again, refrain from referring to our previous work as  “failing the newspaper test,” “assassination,” “drug overdose,” suicide, not seeking reelection, retiring unexpectedly, etc.).

Managing a planet is distracting, we admit, but, on days when we’re bored, it provides an entertaining respite from looking back at this time period 1000 years in the future while trying to live a fulfilling life 1000 years from now, too.

Domesticated Animals

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What is one gallon (3.75 litres) of water worth to you?

In many parts of the world, a toilet is composed of a seat, a bowl full of water and a reservoir of water.

While your derriere warms the seat, you eliminate waste products (e.g., urine, feces) into the bowl and then use a levered mechanism to flush out the bowl, replacing its contents with the water in the reservoir.

A simple procedure.

Some of us are trained to drain the bowl after every use.

Some of us are trained to conserve water and drain the bowl after more than one use.

Some of us have no idea how to use the toilet, growing up with other means of eliminating waste — a hole in the floor, a hole in the ground (over which a wooden hut is built and then called an outhouse), writing your name in the snow, doing your business on the grass and covering with leaves, etc.

I grew up with unisex toilets in the home and gender-based toilets (bathrooms or water closets) in public buildings.

I don’t know how the people who avail themselves of the facilities designated for women in public places use the toilets.

In the unisex toilet at home, our parents taught my sister and me to flush after every use.

In the men’s room in public places, I have observed over the years a variety of behaviours, from clean, flushed toilets to bowls overflowing with waste and toilet paper.  [We have a toilet in the men’s room called the urinal but that one is eliminated from this discussion to focus on the more universal product for receiving our waste.]

When water is scarce, a gallon of chlorinated/fluoridated water mixed with waste products is as precious as some metals.

In that situation, what is proper is not prudent.

However, where water is abundant and treated water is inexpensive, let’s be courteous to those who’ll use the toilet after us and flush our waste away.

Surely, we’re educated and domesticated enough to handle that simple a task, eh?

There are plenty of other public places of your life to demonstrate your barbarian behaviour to better advantage.

A Second Look at Female Suicide

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Is it true more American military kill themselves than die in battle or perish in motorbike wrecks?  If so, what is the ratio of military men to women self-sacrificers?

Compared to the civilian population and, more specifically, civilian job categories, how much higher or lower are male military or female military likely to kill themselves than, say, dentists or cops?

Finally, is it because we’ve infested the military population with the same microorganisms that push cat owners into ending their ninth try at a nice life?

Could we look back at those of the female persuasion who left written records and killed themselves, analysing their literary output for clues as to the true cause of their desire for demise?

For instance, take this poem of Sylvia Plath.  Is it just me or is she perhaps using her poetic licence to drive home a point that it was secretly a creature of the feline persuasion that persuaded her to say goodbye to life, to children, to husband, to career?:

The Companionable Ills

by Sylvia Plath

The nose-end that twitches, the old imperfections—
Tolerable now as moles on the face
Put up with until chagrin gives place
To a wry complaisance—

Dug in first as God’s spurs
To start the spirit out of the mud
It stabled in; long-used, became well-loved
Bedfellows of the spirit’s debauch, fond masters.

German private industry vs. American military industry transportation choices

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The beauty of a brain in retirement is letting one’s thoughts wander.

For instance, as I was driving back and forth from unrestricted territory down a long road into a restricted American military base, I looked around me.

I remembered when I used to commute via airplane and taxi from the U.S. to Germany on business.

In Germany, I noticed that some companies, such as Fujitsu-Siemens in Augsburg, offered large covered parking areas nearest buildings for people who commuted by bicycle or motorbike.

Here in the U.S., at the local military base called Redstone Arsenal, those who carpool (more than one person per vehicle) are allotted spots to park nearest one of the buildings but motorbikes were allotted uncovered spots in the middle of the carpark.

Which got me thinking…

When are we going to design our infrastructures to optimise the mix of devices we use in our transportation systems?

In other words, if we make token efforts to promote efficient means of transportation, then people will continue to pay for the convenience of inefficient methods.

Only when we make it difficult and/or inconvenient to use relatively expensive transportation vehicles (cars/trucks/SUVs) will we change our habits.

For instance, what if people had to use mass transit to get onto a U.S. military base, with tiny carparks and large bicycle/motorbike storage facilities located at mass transit pickup points throughout walk/bike-friendly [sub/ex]urban neighbourhoods?

Would we encourage people to walk or bike to work rather than the majority piling into their one-person occupied metal-and-plastic contraptions lined up one-after-another in traffic jams morning, noon and night to get on the base?

Would we worry less about the dangers of large carparks full of uninspected vehicles on military bases?

Would we find better ways to spend our time than wait on crowded roads for our turn to drive through traffic-light controlled intersections?

Would we have more time to spend with family before and after our workdays are done?

Makes an argument like the one cited here at wired.com moot, doesn’t it, when you eliminate the need for the motorised/EV transportation devices altogether?

Separating the amateurs from the pros from the cons

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Well, back to the storyline that won’t go away quietly.

Turns out the Committee has issued its final opinion to settle the debate on what separates a professional athlete from an amateur athlete and either one from a convict.

Simple: the best body modification that money can buy.

Therefore, from this day forward, all professional sports association must allow players to use as many chemical concoctions and prosthetic additions as they and/or their sponsors can afford.

Amateur athletes must continue to refrain from enhancing their bodies in any way that requires more than basic nutrition to supplement a hard exercise regimen.

Of course, this puts pressure on the professional spectacle that used to be a competition between amateur athletes called the Olympics.

Because professional athletes can participate in the Olympics, all Olympic athletes may take whatever steps they, their family, their sponsors and/or their country deems necessary to win.

Or, as they like to say in scifi, may the best cyborg crush its opponent in glorious technicolour!

The starving barbarians at the gate will still be barred from entry until such time as they prove themselves civilised enough to behave like a normal doped-up athlete in the Olympic spotlight — sorry, no more grunting in front of a microphone and camera like a tennis player on the court — you must be able to speak in sentences longer than two words, even if your opponent is bleeding to death in the arena from your crushing blow to the head.

Always testing the waters, sometimes diving in…

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Lists, lists, lists.  Somewhere, probably in Italy at this time, is a person of international fame, if not fortune, who teaches and writes — Mr. Umberto Eco — a man who collects books, even if he does not read them all.

If, if, if.

I was a pledge for a fraternity to which my father belonged in his college days — Delta Tau Delta.

In the pile of papers I found yesterday, after clearing out a bunch of books I don’t need so that others may enjoy their literary/financial worth (sorry, Mr. Eco, I can’t hoard books my whole life — I must learn to let go of my physical possessions as I get closer to my natural death and the loss of all connections to our civilised lives here on Earth), a list of fellow pledges at DTD:

Name, hometown, classification/year, major, local address, local phone
Russ H., Knoxville TN, sophomore, communications, 970 Sunnydale, 693-9353
Bill Smith, Jamestown NC, sophomore, architecture, ?, 974-3843
Greg Scaione, East Brunswick NJ, freshman, political science, ?, 974-2689
David Lucas, Lexington KY, freshman, civil engineering, East Stadium Hall, x-4752
Mike Hinton, Fairfax VA, freshman, aerospace engineering, Greeve Hall, x-8098
David Rice, Knoxville TN, ?, undecided, Hess Hall, x-4062

The year was probably 1982, possibly 1983.  Like going through the ritual ceremony at DeMolay where I observed archaic symbols and recited passages I was supposed to share with no one, feeling more at ease in Boys Scout, I was turned off by Delta Tau Delta after going through the pledge/plebe ritual at Delta Tau Delta.

All that secret society mumbo-jumbo seemed outdated and also…somehow…wrong.

The same was true with some Boy Scout rituals like Order of the Arrow — the whole “rites of passage into adulthood” thing shrouded in stuff we’re not to tell young ones or those who were not deserving of being tapped out.

The only way I could keep from sharing these special words, phrases, hand signals and such was to forget what I saw and heard.

There is no privilege in rank.  Prestige is a crutch on which those without self-esteem lean, it seems, when I look at those who seek rank and privilege.

Those who do not seek but are given special rewards for their sacrifices to the greater social good are a different category.

I can understand why wise sages promote collections of instructions for social behaviour that encourage us to act naturally and let those whose natural acts selflessly benefit the species receive recognition from the rest of us.

The ant and the grasshopper.

Tomorrow or later this week, the judges who sit up high on the U.S. Supreme Court will issue their ruling about a social safety net nicknamed Obamacare.

I have seen the effects of this net, the result of national legislation, in that my mother in-law and father accrued a large cost in medical care by private practice doctors and public hospitals without having to pay a penny themselves; on the other hand, my former brother in-law has complained, amongst others, of having to pay higher out-of-pocket medical insurance premiums the last couple of years to pay for the social safety net.

The cost of running a local business in the U.S. includes socialised programs we call Social Security, Medicare and income taxes for general social government expenses, to name a few, if one has employees on the payroll, the business owner, too, that is.

A natural-born citizen takes no test or learns a secret ritual to earn full social safety net rights of citizenry.  A person not born in this country who becomes a full citizen must take a test and pledge allegiance to gain access to the social safety net legally.

I have a story to tell that takes me out of this realm of day-to-day worries about pledges and social safety nets but I am here to tell the story because of them.

In other words, a system for which I had no direct say/vote in implementing has directly benefited me very recently.  Some of the people who voted for the national legislation in Congress are members of secret societies such as fraternities, Masons, and Skull and Bones.

How many of us get full benefits of a social safety net without lifting a finger to help others in need?

Or do we give more than we receive?

Is there any way to measure our place in the economic and noneconomic portions of our society?  Does there have to be a balance or do we push our debt forward?

What if we paid it forward?

What is a secret smile shared between two strangers worth if it lifted the spirits of a dying person, lowering the need for, and thus the cost of, pain medication?

It’s about time to return to the story of Agirita and her new friend.

Their story is our story.

Allegorical, cynical, satirical.

I met a smile I liked before a metaphor is like a simile.

Rick is back for a brief moment: he thanks Chrispine, Avance, Ruth Ann, Stain, Matthew, Princess, Molly and others.

Foam Bow Tie

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Would you wager a bet — your life’s savings — to support a project that produced ten results, only one of which was successful, a 10% success rate?

The ROI for your wager is your name and your family’s names on a plaque.

The plaque is attached to a landing craft.

The adult travelers inside the craft all die.

The eggs and embryos survive, grow and carve out a niche in the new landscape, the mini-ecosystem of the landing craft, unable to decipher, let alone pronounce the names on the plaque.

But former inhabitants of Earth have found a way to live on another celestial sphere.

That, alone, was the accomplishment of this current millennial-long civilisation we propagate and perpetuate.

More than any other civilisation before ours.

More than any other species or ecosystem.

The sole goal of life, to reproduce itself in whatever form the environment will tolerate in the eat-and-be-eaten cycle of life.

What if we sent that one-out-of-ten-success craft in a few decades from now, achieving the goal by slowing down global consumption of raw materials for a short period — several years, a couple of decades — until we jumped back into our fast dash for the latest gizmos, gadgets, family gatherings and after-hours parties?

Sure, pretty much most of us will keep supporting the rise and fall of family fortunes, business empires and geopolitical zones (a/k/a governments), because only a few lucky souls will qualify for climbing aboard the ten launch vehicles and only one craft will carry our species’ passengers all the way to another planetary body, acting as couriers.

The survivors of the craft will exist as if they live in a parallel universe, unaware of our continued great accomplishments on Earth:

  • Our medical breakthroughs, such as the extension of a healthy person’s life into a third century of high-quality daily activities.
  • Our flying cars, floating cities and other dreams of days gone by fully realised.
  • Totally-connected thought patterns via new technology, letting those who want no privacy or have no secrets to hide to join the Hive and move our species forward/backward/sideways as one.

Our civilisation will go on for countless decades, business cycles and climate changes, prospering in the ebb and flow of new ideas that counter prevailing ideas.

Optimists and pessimists will support or deny the direction we take, without fail.

In the interim, our celestial cousins are recreating the paradise of Earth elsewhere.

You and I will never know with certainty whether our actions contribute most to the growth of life off this planet or life on this planet, regardless of the perceived benefit/detriment of our actions in the moment.

We are who we are, doing what we do to enhance our survival within the social net we’ve spread over Earth, extending tiny threads outward into space, just in case this net eventually collapses.

We can be plumbers, fashion designers, mechanics, midlevel managers, lab techs, airplane pilots, business angels or primary school students.

We create futures we see and futures we cannot imagine possible.

We may solve mathematical conundrums at age 15 or not be able to balance a checkbook, or both.

But we will find a way to move Earth-based lifeforms, including synthetic beings designed for harsh conditions on other worlds, into and out of our solar system.

The Voyager spacecraft series is one example.

The Beagle 2 is another.

So, too, Venera 9.

Is one of those or a new craft the single container that harbours beings which will adjust to their new environment and thrive?

Would a recent university graduate with a mathematics major be the one who makes a difference in which craft is the one that represents our achievements up to a point in time on Earth but for millions of years later on a different planet?

There’s only one way to find out — live in the moment with an eye on the future, using the collective wisdom of your [sub]culture as a guide, trusting your instincts to know which elders are the ones with you, your subculture, and the future of your species in their best interests.

Don’t forget to have fun.  Wear a giant foam bow tie to a corporate board meeting, your wedding or your child’s secondary school graduation ceremony.

A Further Challenge to This Generation and Generations to Follow

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TO: William Alden Lee
Commander, USN (Ret)

22 May 2012

Dear Mr. Lee,

I know my mother will want to continue correspondence with you but today she is concentrating on a few basic items that Dad will no longer be able to handle for her.

You see, yesterday we buried my father, Richard Lee Hill, with full military and Masonic rites.

As you know, Dad’s health was deteriorating rapidly from a motor neuron degenerative condition which doctors surmise was probably ALS (or Lou Gehrig’s disease), and seemed to start in Dad’s throat area, thus called “bulbar option.”

Dad had been unable to talk for the past couple of months.  His last clear words were “Herr Hügel” in response to whether he knew his name.

As Dad’s condition worsened, there seemed to be a dementia component to his struggles.

However, throughout Dad’s decline, he remained stoic, never complaining about pain unless the doctors or nurses persisted in their questioning.

Dad died on the 18th of May at the Mountain Home VA Medical Center, with his grandson by his side.  Dad had spent the last two weeks of his life in the ICU at the VA.  We can give you more details if you’re interested — however, as you know, Dad was never one to dwell on his health.

We are thankful for his friendship with you, which he enjoyed, and personally I have enjoyed the German memorabilia you have forwarded on to him recently, which he shared with me, including a photo of you performing in the 4th Division Infantry band.

We keep you in our prayers and thoughts as you face your own medical challenges.  You’ll be happy to know that the doctors and nurses at the VA consider you, Dad, and your colleagues to be the last generation of military personnel that faces medical issues without whining or complaining, taking the challenges and meeting them head on rather than blaming others for less-than-perfect health.

Please let Barbara and the kids know about Richard’s death.

Regards,
Rick Hill

He was ready to go…

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I have temporarily exhausted the wellspring of words with which to cover this page prophetically and comically.

This morning, my father breathed his last, sparing us the tougher decisions down the road when his health would decline further while we maintained a level of medically-supported comfort.

The ventilator was removed a few days ago.

Yesterday, we agreed to remove the IV fluids.

Today, we planned to keep him on a PEG tube to provide nutrition daily and antibiotics/pain meds as needed.

He died in relative comfort.

Now, no wrinkles furrow his brow.

Meanwhile, we mourn a great man — Richard Hill.

Mon Père.

Mein Vater.  Vati.

My one and only father.

May he rest in peace.

May we find solace and grieve in good time.

There’s still another parent with whom we remember the good times and continue to make fond new memories.

A GREAT BIG THANK YOU to the staff at the Mountain Home VA Medical Center, who shared their love, education, patience and kindness with abundance.  I (and my father) tip our hats to you — you don’t know how honoured we are to have had you with us at the end.

A Touch of Class

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In this rift, this gap, this space between decision tree branches, when one (me) finds the time to contemplate the past and its affected future (the effect may affect or feign affection), the meditative moment blinds.

Is blinded.

Opens the drapes and pulls the blinds.

‘Tis what is.

Here.

Now.

My father’s breaths approaching their last.

At some point.

Sunrises and sunsets counted in ones.

One day at a time.

One hour.

One minute.

One second.

More thanks to make but they’ll have to wait.

I have my goodbyes to take.

An evening to meditate.

Mein Vater zu danken und zu verabschieden, um die unbekannten Welten können wir Ruhe und Gelassenheit …

…if only he could have the strength to correct my grammar one more time!