At long last, it is time to pick up where we left off last time in our discussion (monologue?) on Bird Fecal Material and how it arrives in and, subsequently, interacts with our fountain (Bird Toilet).
Today, I will present my version of how to rectify the situation and, therefore, once again, be able to employ our fountain in a manner commensurate with its primary intended use (to look pretty without smelling too badly).
Several items were wielded in the process of accomplishing the desired end, and I would like to list them now (not necessarily in the order of use).
Shop Vac
Gloves – two sets
Roll of Paper Towels
Flat Head Screwdriver
Needle Nosed Pliers
Garden Trowel
Trash Can
Garden Hose
Folding Stool (the kind you sit upon, not what the birds left behind)
Fresh Container of Clorox Wipes
4-Tine Foraged Garden Cultivator
Available Shower With Lot’s of Soap, Shampoo and Anti-Viral Type Stuff
Several Hours of Spare Time
Let’s get started, shall we (I)?
Well, on second thought, I’m not going to get too descriptive, here. Let’s just say that the odds are somewhat better than even that I won’t be using my garden trowel to eat out of my shop vac very soon…
A couple of days ago I did something that I almost never do. I did one of those copy and paste things on Facebook.
Unfortunately, this has lead to the exposition of at least one of my life’s most closely guarded secrets. Things I have been afraid to reveal for reasons that – well, read below…
As you can see, I got a few responses from friends and relatives around the country, mostly adhering to the ‘one word’ part of the project, and those that added more didn’t do too badly.
And then this showed up…
I was, to say the least, surprised. Here’s why…
Dear Tom, I love you, man. I have always loved you. I will always love you. But now you have revealed, for all of the world to see, my most closely held secret, and it hurts.
I have never spoken of my heroic deeds within the space program. I have always painted myself as your normal, every day (albeit abnormally handsome) all American guy. I had hoped to have people love me for my “ordinariness” – never suspecting my extraordinary accomplishments on Earth, in space and under the sea.
I wished that my self-sacrificing actions in singlehandedly saving the world from complete and utter destruction at the hands of an, (thus far, known only to the three of us) enemy might stay hidden in the dark recesses of our memories.
But now you have exposed a small hint of my true greatness, and I fear that people will look at me differently… Not loving me for who I pretend to be, but for who I truly am.
Sadly, I will now have to practice making my signature semi-legible for all of the autograph seekers about to invade my space. And then there are the Paparazzi – who knows what to expect from them…
I could request that everybody who reads your description of how we first met take it as a brilliant and successful attempt at humor, however, by the time they get to the end of your post, they will have realized that “there was always something ‘different’ about” me and that your report can only be taken seriously and not as a humorous joke meant to elicit laughter.
As I said in the beginning, I still love you, man…
PS – Your family and friends should know about your own heroics, Tom. Have you told them about the “volcanic surface of Jupiter” incident? I didn’t think so…
Once I was (relatively) forgiven for my (wildly funny) joke, things calmed down a bit. I was semi-permanently installed in that part of the emergency room for several more hours until around midnight.
After my residency there was completed, they found me a bed in a room up on the fourth (4th) floor and moved me there without much fanfare.
I think that I will stop typing and just let my hospital bed Facebook updates take over. These were done on my phone, and I was a bit groggy at the time(s), so pay no attention to the spelling errors…
Saturday morning before the visit to urgent care…
Bill Kammerer
July 23, 2011 ·
Another night at the bar with my new friend Ralph. Closed the place down again.. Say “hello”, Ralph…
From the hospital…
Bill Kammerer
July 23, 2011 ·
Last Friday I climbed Half Dome.. Ever since then, I’ve considered it more of an accomplishment to be able to get my head higher than the toilet seat… Amazing how one’s perspective can change so quickly..
Bill Kammerer
July 24, 2011
Going to be in the hospital for a few days. Maybe a week.
Bill Kammerer
July 24, 2011 ·
Happy aniversary Judy!
Bill Kammerer
July 25, 2011
Feeling very handsome this morning.
Bill Kammerer
July 25, 2011
Cream of rice cerial. And I’m trying to figure out if this other dish is French toast, potatoes, fish or bread. When you haven’t been able to eat much in 11days it doesn’t matter. Except maybe for fish, of course…
Bill Kammerer
July 25, 2011
Just so there is no misunderstanding in the future, if anybody wants to invite me to join in on any Half Dome hikes, I’m pretty sure I have to wash my hair that day.
Bill Kammerer
July 26, 2011
Jackpot!!! For only the first time since I’ve on the hospital, mine and my room mate’s jnfusion alarms went off and the life-flight helicopter landed at a time perfectly coinciding with the moment of the first instant I have fallen asleep since I have been here..
Bill Kammerer
July 27, 2011
So, where’s all this ice cream?
Bill Kammerer
July 27, 2011
AS difficult as it is to believe, I feel even more handsome this morning. And I have the breath to go with it..
Bill Kammerer
July 28, 2011
Numbers back in the wrong direction. Boo. I wonder if I can get that changed to some sort of Alpha system.
Bill Kammerer
July 28, 2011
Hospital food. I’ts what’s for dinner. And breakfast. And kinch.
Hospital food…
Bill Kammerer
July 28, 2011
two weeks ago right now we were getting ready to head out to the top of Half Dome. I had dropped 19 pounds in the 6 weeks leading up to it. Since last Saturday, in the hospital, I have gained 32 pounds based on fluid intake.
I have gone from Han Solo to Jaba The Hut in 5 days.
Don’t mess with the hut…
Bill Kammerer
July 29, 2011
Steve to me in the ER last week: “…dad, you can have my kidneys”… I have never been so humbled in my life…
Bill Kammerer
July 29, 2011
Good Lord… I have Hobbit feet…
Bill Kammerer
July 30, 2011
starting dialysis early tomorrow morning. numbers aren’t coming down very well, so we’re going to force them down. Hopefully, dialysis will be only a temporary thing (if the kidneys decide to kick in, that should be the case). Bridges to be crossed when we get to them.
Bill Kammerer
July 30, 2011
going for a ride to X-Ray.. Wwwweeeeeeeeeeeeee…
Bill Kammerer
July 31, 2011
Time to roll the dice. My spit has the consistancy of uses chewing gum. And it’s lost it’s flavor in the bed pan overnight… There’s a song in there somewhere…
Hi All, I’m mosltly restricted to my Droid (with the ocassional foray onto my laptop when I can reach it) so it’s a bit difficult to keep up with you all. If you don’t hear from me personally very often, it’s not because I don’t love you any more.. 🙂 Just hard to navigate and type. Getting ready for another round of dialysis.
Bill Kammerer
August 2, 2011
I am reminded that God draws straight with crooked lines…
Bill Kammerer
August 3, 2011
Wow… Dialysis canceled for tomorrow….
Bill Kammerer
August 4, 2011
This has been a life changing experience…
Bill Kammerer
August 5, 2011
I get to go home today!!!!!!!!!!!
Bill Kammerer
August 5, 2011
5:00 Launch..
Bill Kammerer
August 5, 2011
Just got home. Time to sleep. For about a week.
Bill Kammerer
August 6, 2011
In the hospital, I went through 6 room mates. At home, I have a toilet seat I can trust…
Bill Kammerer
August 11, 2011
Quick health update: I can walk, eat, carry light objects, sleep and pee. I prefer not to do them all at the same time, though…
For anybody who is interested, Judy actually provided more informative notes…
Bill Kammerer published a note.
July 25, 2011 ·
Inspirational Message from Bill Kammerer
Hello Bill’s Facebook Friends!
This is Judy, Bill’s wife. He wants me to convey a story to you about a man named Ted. Bill & Ted have been the best of friends for the past 30 years. Throughout that time, Bill has looked at Ted’s example when it comes to facing hard times. For instance, for many years Ted has fought and won on multiple occasions battles with leukemia. During those times, Ted has somehow miraculously provided daily and sometimes multiple times per day up-to-the-second detailed information chronicling his struggles, small setbacks, great successes, channeling the qualities of strength, fortitude and greatness missing so evidently in today’s society. And through it all, Teddy somehow incredibly maintained an unbiased approach in his daily reports. Bill has decided that Ted has provided a very high bar to reach for. However, because of Ted’s strength and courage, Bill has decided to attempt to follow his example as closely as possible, utilizing as much eloquence, objectivity, and attention to detail as so successfully employed by Ted. With that in mind, here is his first dispatch (verbatim):
Entry #1, day #1: Bill: “I am sick. I will get back with you.”
Entry #2, day #1 (about 1 hour after entry #1): Bill: “Refer to previous entry.”
Entry #3, day #1 (about 1/2 hour after entry #2): Bill: “Refer to” … at which point Judy had no choice but to interrupt with: “I can’t take this, Bill! You need to give a tad more information so your friends will have some kind of idea what is going on. Let me take care of this.” Bill smiles as he goes back to checking his email. (Now that I’m actually entering this into his Facebook account, I’m getting a sneaking suspicion he planned all this.)
Judy provides some details:
1. Bill hiked from the valley floor up to the top of Half Dome, 7/15, … 6-1/2 hours
2. After a short time at the top, Bill hiked back down Half Dome to the valley floor, 7/15 … 11-1/2 hours
[Side note: Don’t go for a long hike without proper fitting shoes for both up and down slopes.]
3. Total time of exertional muscle stress … 18 hours
14. Constant IV hydration with normal saline, multiple doses of Kayexalate (Bill: “sh_t”)
15. Midnight admission to room 454B
16. Admission diagnoses that I remember: Acute renal failure, uricemia, hyperkalemia, hypertension
Hello Bill’s Facebook friends … it’s been a week, so time for an update. Being a hospital patient involves a lot of fading in and out of oblivion (eyes shut, snore, eyes flutter open, “oh hi,” half smile, a few drowsy words, eyes shut, repeat process) so I’m taking it upon myself to throw out a few bits of information . . .
1. Creatinine should be around 1.0 … was 19 in urgent care 7/23 and has sloooooooooowly come down (17, 16, 15, 14) to 13.8 yesterday.
2. BUN should be less than 25 … was 168 in urgent care 7/23 and has slooooooooooowly come down (145, 135) to 130 yesterday.
3. GFR should be greater than 60 … was 4 in urgent care 7/23 and actually was worse at 3 yesterday.
4. The nephrologist spoke with us at 7 pm last night and said that after a week of pushing normal saline IV and drinking clear fluids, the numbers aren’t anywhere near where they should be. And actually Bill started “third spacing” the previous hour, where the fluids were escaping into his skin. The nurses have a difficult time finding a vein to keep open for IV’s since his veins have closed up at the usual places and he’s very edematous (retaining fluid all over) which results in a lot of weight gain which is hard on the heart. They’ve been giving him blood pressure medicine, but his BP remains high at around 160/95.
5. He’s having a tough time with his medications that include a shot of heparin in the stomach every 8 hours, which causes nausea and dry heaves soon after. But the heparin is a necessary prophylaxis to prevent blood clots in the tube/catheter. He’s getting Zofran for the nausea. Hopefully his body will get used to the meds soon so he won’t need that.
6. So last night the nephrologist said she wanted to start dialysis in the morning, do it for 3 days in a row, then do a kidney biopsy Tuesday or Wednesday. Bill agreed and a dialysis nurse spoke with us at 9:30 pm last night. He explained the process pretty thoroughly along with possible scenarios.
7. Bill was taken to Interventional Radiology at 9:45 am this morning (Sunday) and he said the team of doctor/nurse/technicians was really great and they gave him meds to be drowsy and forget what happened. He now has a Perm Cath below his right shoulder with 2 tubes sticking out that are attached to the dialysis machine during the 3-4 hour dialysis procedure.
8. Bill was taken to the dialysis room on the 10th floor where they started his first dialysis at 1pm. Since Sundays are more relaxed, they let me accompany him and stand by the bed. I helped him with his hot chocolate and fruit as the machine whirled and beeped and whooshed away. One tube takes the blood out of his body and circulates it into a membrane tube that serves as an artificial kidney, taking the waste toxins out, and sending the cleaned blood through another tube back into his body. He said he didn’t really feel anything. They set it to also reduce the fluid he is retaining by 2 liters. His only side effect when they were done (after 3 hours) was a bad headache which decreased after he got back to his room.
9. His kidney function numbers and weight should decrease by the time he’s discharged on Wednesday or Thursday … whenever they can set up outpatient dialysis at a center in Fresno 3 days a week for hopefully a very short time.
10. Right now we don’t know what caused all this. The hike appears to have triggered things. The doctors know Bill lost just under 20 pounds over the 2 months leading up to it. They know he drank 6 liters of water during the hike, which wasn’t hot until the downhill portion (it started off as a midnight hike). He had no previous indication of kidney disease. The doctors know he was in the hospital in 8th grade for what was probably a kidney infection. The nephrologist believes there is a chronic component since it takes much longer than 1 week for a creatinine to climb to 19 and reflect renal failure. We’re hoping the kidney biopsy will provide a more clear diagnosis. It will be sent to a kidney pathologist at UCLA and take 1-2 weeks to get the results back.
Bill and I thank you for all your prayers, good wishes, and friendship. It makes things quite bearable. ~ Judy
–
8/4/2011
Bill’s nephrologist came by with a smile on his face yesterday, happy to report that his kidney function numbers are vastly improved! Creatinine was 12.3 on Sunday (after a week of IV fluid resuscitation and prior to first dialysis), 5.6 on Monday, 4.4 on Tuesday, and 4.8 today (staying down after being off dialysis 2 days). BUN was 119 on Sunday, 43 on Monday, 35 on Tuesday, and 36 today.
On Monday, the plan was for a day of rest on Wednesday, then dialysis in the hospital Thursday, followed by temporary dialysis as an outpatient until the kidney biopsy results come back and the numbers show his kidney function is stable. But on Wednesday, they decided to cancel the Thursday dialysis and discontinue the 3200 mg of RenaGel 3x day (4 pills with each meal, which according to Bill are the size of submarines). I’m not sure which Bill was more excited about, but I think it was discontinuing the pills. And today … (drum roll please) … the nephrologist cancelled the order for outpatient dialysis altogether since it’s clear his kidney function is returning. The hospitalist will be the one to decide whether he gets his Perm Cath removed by Interventional Radiology before discharge or wait until after the biopsy report comes back.
We’re not sure when he will be discharged, but it sounds like it should be tomorrow or the weekend. He’ll probably spend a couple days asleep since he’s very pooped after 2 weeks of sleep deprivation.
Bill’s main worry during this ordeal was the possibility of starving to death. He speaks highly of his hospital care, but doesn’t have anything positive to say about the food. I think my most important role was to bring him hot chocolate several times a day.
Thank you for being great friends and family, and for your prayers and good wishes. It’s definitely time to rejoice! ~ Judy
One year later…
7/23/12
One year ago today, I had an ambulance ride to Community Medical Center where I was checked in and connected to tubes, hoses, leads and this tree thing that held bags full of liquids. When I got there, people were amazed that I was alive, though they didn’t tell me that at the time.
One year ago tomorrow, Judy and I celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary in the hospital, along with our kids and their spouses and girlfriend.
Today I ordered a huge cake. Tomorrow Judy and I will celebrate our 41st anniversary by bringing that cake to the doctors, nurses and staff at the nurse’s station outside the door to the room where I lived for two weeks..
Thank you, God, for those nurses doctors and staff.
Once the catheter was inserted, things were better. For the nurse. She got to leave for a few minutes. Judy stuck around for a couple of minutes and had to go do something with paperwork, or some such thing.
I was back in the room alone again. It was just me and my catheter…
A couple of minutes later, I heard Steve’s voice outside the door asking if he could come in to see me. The wheels started turning in my head and had finished prior to the time he received permission to enter…
He walked in.
He looked at me.
My eyes were open, glazed over, staring into nothingness. My jaw was slack, my mouth a gaping cavern. I was holding my breath…
When the sixty year old man had finished his story, the forty-ish balding nurse stood in silence for a few moments, gazing in admiration. Or was he staring at the clock wondering if the tale had finally ended, or if the sixty year old man was just taking a breath (his first in the telling of the saga) and would continue his story?
Who knows? Whichever the case may be, he made sure the telling was over because he completed his “paperwork” and called for transportation to a treatment room.
The journey from the “check-in” area to the treatment room was rather boring, so Man of Action started telling his tale, again, to the orderly pushing the gurney. He was interrupted about every fifth word by with word “Si” coming from the orderly. Apparently, the gentleman either didn’t speak English, or he was warned not to let me think he did, by the forty-ish balding nurse.
So I just shut up for the balance of the trip.
Once in the treatment room, I was left alone for a few minutes to contemplate my situation. Actually, my condition didn’t seem so bad at the moment, in light of what I could see through the crack the door to the hallway…
There was a foot occupying the end of a gurney just outside the door. On the foot was a big toe. On the big toe was a big toe nail. The unfortunate part of that was that the nail was positioned at a ninety degree angle from the toe.
Warning: This will make you say “owee-ooh-ee-ooh-ooh-oweezowee“. If you are OK with saying “owee-ooh-ee-ooh-ooh-oweezowee” , click here to see a pho-toe of a toe that looks very similar to the one I had to look at for thirty minutes before anybody came in and shut the door all the way.
Fortunately, when someone did come into the room, one of them was Judy.
Unfortunately, the other one was a young nurse.
Normally, that wouldn’t bother me too much except that she had something ominous looking with her. She called it a Foley Catheter.
I knew what a Foley was – it was a guy with the first name of Terry with whom I graduated from high school. I had no problem with that.
My problem was with the “Catheter” part of the equation. I also knew what that was…
Warning: This will make you say “owee-ooh-ee-ooh-ooh-oweezowee“. If you are OK with saying “owee-ooh-ee-ooh-ooh-oweezowee” ,click here to see a photoof what, if you are a guy, at least, you never want to tangle with.
I couldn’t think of anything to say so I said, “what’s that for? “
She responded, “Well, we have to give you a way to eliminate waste from your body.”
I said, “Oh.”
Then, neither one of us said anything for a minute or so. We just looked at each other. Then I looked at Judy. Judy looked at me. The nurse looked at Judy. Judy looked at the nurse. A doctor came into the room. We all looked at the doctor. The doctor looked at the nurse. The doctor looked at Judy. The doctor looked at me.
The doctor said, “Excuse me. Wrong room,” and left.
I looked at Judy. Judy looked at the nurse. The nurse looked at me.
I looked at the nurse and said, “I don’t suppose that thing goes down my throat while I’m under anesthesia, does it?”
The nurse said, “No.”
I said, “Oh.”
The nurse said, “This is going to hurt a bit.”
I said, “How much is a bit?”
The nurse said, “It has been compared to what a woman feels during childbirth.” She continued, “if you are ready, I’ll start.”
Judy grabbed my hand and said , “Breathe.”
The nurse began the procedure.
I said, in my most primal screaming voice, “COWABUNGAHHHHHHHHH!!*$#@!”, and turned to Judy, gritted my teeth, looked her straight in the eye and screeched, “YOU DID THIS TO ME!”
Then everybody started laughing. Like it was funny or something…
I, on the other hand, was just wondering if they could just tear my toenail back ninety degrees and call it a day…
This is part .6. If you would like to catch up, I would suggeststarting at part .5.From there you can come back here, or go to Part 1, which is the first of 8 parts relating to the actual trip up Half Dome and back…
After a couple of whiles, I was having to stop every few hundred feet of downhill progress and get the pressure off my legs and toes. Shawn stuck with me initially, but we finally reached a point where he decided that I needed the motivation to keep going, so when I sat down on a rock, he just Kept going.
I called after him.
He stopped and turned around.
I asked him if he had a knife.
He said “yes”.
I asked him to “please cut off my toes”.
He said “no”.
I explained that I was referring to the tips of my boots, thinking that it might relieve the pressure.
He came back, took out his knife and said, “How about if I just slit the toe of one boot to separate it from the sole and we’ll see how that goes?”
That sounded good to me, so he hacked away. We then proceeded to the next switchback to see how it worked out. It was actually much better, so we stopped and did the other boot.
This really helped a lot, for a couple of whiles. My legs were still a bit stiff, but the toes were better so I just ignored the legs.
Going downhill is actually tougher than going uphill, so in addition to my downhill boots, I always bring a pair of downhill knees in the form of braces. I don’t usually put them on until I am fairly well into the downward trek because the knees don’t bother me initially. This day was no exception.
But we finally got to the point where the knees started giving me problems, and I went ahead and installed the braces. They helped for awhile (which is, actually, just a bit less than “a while”).
By the time we had gone another while, the legs, toes and knees were giving me issues again and I was utilizing two hiking sticks for support and balance. (I cannot tell you how many times my hiking stick has saved my life over the decades. Literally.)
At this point, I had run out of remedies and the only things that were keeping me going were my mantra, “I will go as far as I can and this ain’t it” and Shawn coaxing me on.
My legs hurt. My knees hurt, My toes hurt. My back hurt. My upper torso looked like the spillway of the Hoover Dam because I was sweating as much as ever, and replacing the perspiration with more and more water.
And then Shawn reminded me that I needed electrolytes.
Fortunately, he brought several packets of electrolytes to add to the water. Unfortunately, I didn’t add them to the water, I simply threw them directly into my mouth as he tried to warn me not to do that.
Are you familiar with “Pop Rocks”? Well, that’s what these were like. If you just throw them into your mouth, they start exploding. This causes one’s mouth to foam over rather quickly. It’s kinda like popping an Alka-Seltzer into your mouth.
The problem with doing that is that you cannot swallow the foam fast enough to get it out of your mouth, and if you try to close your mouth to prevent it from escaping and embarrassing you, you will choke to death on the foam being forced down your throat and up into your sinus cavities and out of your nose.
I lovingly refer to this as the “mad dog effect.”
Believe it or not, there are actually benefits to being in such awful physical misery (I’m always looking for the bright side).
One of those benefits manifests itself in one’s ability to completely not give a rip about the multi-colored stains appearing as approximately three and a half gallons of Pop-Rockian/Alka-Seltzerian foam slithers its way out of your gaping mouth, down your chin, traversing the front of your shirt, across your beltline and and taking up permanent residence in the crotch of your favorite hiking shorts.
The chagrin comes later when you discover that the stain doesn’t come out in the wash, but at the time of the event, you’re just happy not to be drowning or, maybe worse, happy that you didn’t just swallow them whole the instant you threw them into your mouth. That would be really bad, I think…
As the day went on, so did we. Shawn be-bopping down the trail and me doing my best “ET” gait imitation.
By the time we finally reached the top of Vernal Falls and approached the Mist Trail, I had lost enough weight that my shorts were slipping badly. And I was out of notches on my belt. The only thing that was keeping them up was my rump, and that was about to give way. This is when I started hearing comments from strangers about a man my age dressing like that…
Luckily, the mist was extremely heavy, and I put on my rain poncho to 1) keep me dry (there’s some sort of irony in there, somewhere) and 2) hide the fact that my pants were about 50% of their way down to my ankles. .
It was extremely slow going down the steps on the trail, but I thought I was doing well enough until, about halfway down, I heard a woman’s voice behind me say, in heavily accented English, “Excuse me prease.” I moved as far as I could to the side and watched – I’m not kidding – a little tiny Japanese lady, who appeared to be in her 80’s, USING A WALKER, glide effortlessly past me.
It was at this point that it began to dawn on me that I might be in trouble…
After slowly making our way downward for what seemed to be an inordinately long period of time (probably because it was), we finally got down to the footbridge:
View of Vernal Falls from the footbridge – This was actually taken a couple of months prior to the hike, but I couldn’t make myself get a shot while I was there on this occasion (except the night shot)
We decided that I would wait at the footbridge and Shawn would go the rest of the way to the valley (just under a mile further down the trail) and get help. He was gone for some time, and I decided that I would start my way down myself.
A few minutes along the trail, I met Judy coming up the other way. She had met Shawn on the trail (she was coming to see if she could find us – it was getting late) and he told her where I was waiting.
She helped me down the rest of the way to the trail head where we met Shawn – walking a couple of bikes.
He had gone back to camp and got his and Megan’s bikes so that I could ride back to camp and relive the pressure on my body. AWESOME!! (I mean, GROOVY!!!)
It took a minute to get me up on the bike, but when I got on, it was an amazing relief. I was able to pedal back without any problem, and Judy stopped to get me a 50 gallon drum of ice cold root beer and brought it to the camp site.
It was a little after 8:00 PM. Everybody else had made it back by about noon…
I was helped off the bike, carried to a picnic table, sat down and froze in that position for a short time. Donna sat across from me, told me to raise my right hand and swear to never do Half Dome again in my lifetime. At that point, I had no problem doing that (although I kinda regret it, now).
After eating some dinner, Judy and Shawn helped me to the tent and into my sleeping bag. I didn’t even undress, though Judy took my boots and socks off.
And that, dear friends, was as far as I could bloody go.
Saturday morning, July 16, 2011…
I woke up and couldn’t move much. Judy had to help me change my clothes and helped me get out of the tent. We walked around for a few minutes until I got loosened up a bit and was able to hobble around.
We ate breakfast, and I was able to get around a lot better, so we packed up and drove home.
The last four hundred feet of the hike up Half Dome is pretty much vertical. You pull yourself up using cables. Unfortunately, those cables are not visible in this shot because, at that time, the rock was situated inside a cloud.
View from the bottom of the cables. This is what it looked like at 7:38 AM, July 15, 2011 when we arrived at this point…
If you look closely you can see the cables as a dark smudge looking thing running up the center of the rock.
Here we are getting ready to go up the cables. Donna has a better camera than I do…
Preparing to make the ascent up the cables…
Once we were all gathered at the base, we were ready to go up. (By the way, the reason I did this hike the first time is that I hate heights. I don’t like high places. I figure if God wanted me to like high places, He would have made me an eagle or a mountain goat. But He made me another kind of animal. He made me a chicken. I did it to conquer my fear of heights. I still hate high places, but I did get over the cables on Half Dome.)
The trek up was uneventful. I didn’t faint, fall or throw up. Once we got to the top, we could relax. Here are some photos…
Shawn letting everybody else know that he made it to the top.
Somebody else let everybody else know that they made it to the top.
Man of Action letting everybody else know that he made it to the top.
Every body letting everybody else know that we made it to the top. L to R: Nicole, Shawn, Man of Action, Megan, Brian, Lauren.
Everybody else letting everybody else know that they are either very brave or very stupid.
Shawn convinces Man of Action that he should let everybody else know that he is either very brave or very stupid.
At one point, the cloud began to dissipate and some pretty spectacular scenery began to poke through. Unfortunately, the camera couldn’t begin to capture the power of the moment, but here it is anyway…
View of peaks across the way through the cloud.
Then the cloud dissipated rather quickly…
It was right about here that the first indication that something was wrong with me made its appearance in the form of three major charley horses in my legs…
Breakfast time!
I managed to get the pain to settle down and go away. Walked it off.
And then it was time to start back…
Headed back down the cables. This is the relatively flat part at the top.
The trip down the cables was also pretty uneventful, other than two people who had started up when we were almost down at the bottom who turned around and decided that the climb was not for them…
We reached the bottom and headed back down the way we came, passing a couple of rangers who were asking for ID and checking us off the list of permitted hikers. (In order to do the hike, the National Park Service has instituted the requirement that you register several months ahead of time and reserve the date(s). They want to limit the impact of too many hikers – not a bad thing, I think, and they want to know who’s body they are looking for if you fall.)
We all stayed together until we came to a stream. Shawn had a filter system, and we all filled our water bags. This is a good thing.
Then we all took off back to camp. After a few miles, I, as is typical for me, fell a bit behind. Fortunately Shawn stayed with me. I say fortunately because I would still be up there somewhere if he hadn’t.
While I was starting off correctly by putting the right foot (my left foot) first, I cannot vouch for the proper foot conduct of anyone else in the group. I can, however, say with certainty that nobody in the group was going in the right direction to get us on the right trail to the top of Half Dome.
This was, however, remedied within about five minutes when someone realized that we had walked straight into a cliff. Fortunately, it was the cliff wall that we walked into and not the top edge.
Naturally, this caused a re-evaluation of our collective sense of direction, and we reversed our course.
NOW we were on the road.
Throughout the night, we made our way along the trail. We saw nary a creature along the way and there were no special incidents . Of course, it was dark so we probably wouldn’t see any, would we?
One of the highlights of the journey is reaching the top of Nevada Fall. One of the reasons it’s a highlight is that everybody wants to stop and take it in (translation: let’s wait for Bill to catch up). It’s a great resting point after the arduous climb to get there. And it has some pretty spectacular views, even at 2:30 in the morning:
The hours crawled by, and it was getting a little tough on Man of Action. However, I refused to give up and stop. I have developed a sort of mantra and kept repeating over and over in my head. “I will go as far as I can go and this ain’t it.”
“I should have prepared more for this hike.”
“I will go as far as I can go and this ain’t it.”
“It sure is dark out here.”
“I will go as far as I can go and this ain’t it.”
“I wonder if my sleeping bag back in the tent is comfortable.”
“I will go as far as I can go and this ain’t it.”
“Well, time to stop.”
“I will go as far as I can go and this ain’t it.”
“Are we there, yet?”
“I will go as far as I can go and this ain’t it.”
“Did I leave my guitar turned on back home?”
“I will go as far as I can go and this ain’t it.”
“I wonder what makes my feet hurt.”
“I will go as far as I can go and this ain’t it.”
“Did I remember to turn in my vacation request?”
“I will go as far as I can go and this ain’t it.”
At some point, we came to the “Little Yosemite Valley”. This is always a welcome sight because it means that you are walking on level ground and you will be for a while. Plus, it’s got restrooms, food lockers and tent camping. There is also a river running down the middle of it which eventually becomes Nevada and Vernal Falls.
It really is very beautiful and inspiring.
I took a picture…
After a brief stop, we continued along our way.
Donna, knowing that I was a little slower than the rest of the party, stayed with me along the way and kept me company. I hardly had to use my mantra at all – Thank you Donna!
Eventually, the sun began to show itself, and I began to recognize where we were, having been there a couple of times before in the daylight.
It was time to take another picture…
Donna, just after the sun started to make its appearance.
And another…
Me, just after Donna became visible. See how happy I look?
We weren’t there, yet, but we were approaching the switchback steps. These go on for about three seconds short of an eternity.
I didn’t take this photo. Mostly because I couldn’t make my body move in such a way that I could lift my camera. I found it on the interwebs. The steps are a challenge…
Once past the steps, you pass through a couple of large stones and out onto the saddleback. It’s not very wide and it’s about a 5,000 foot drop off either side…
“They” say that the first step in a difficult journey is the hardest one. I would like to go on record and say that I can positively attest to the fact that “They” are living – and smoking something – in Colorado (or maybe Washington State), because they are hallucinating.
It may be just my rigorous Navy Boot Camp “how to start walking” training, but the first step was definitely not the hardest on this particular trip. In fact, with the exception of the last step, which was not actually taken by me, but by the people who carried me to my tent and poured me into my sleeping bag, it was, by far, the easiest.
But enough about that. I’m running out of commas and I don’t want to get caught short later in my story.
Walking in the last position in the single file formation, head lamp in the “off” position, Man of Action made it to the trail head at Happy Isles without incident. And, after a quick final equipment and “Chicken*” check, we proceeded.
*Chicken Check: A last ditch effort to separate the wheat from the chaff – one final chance for a coward to say “Oh wait! I just remembered! I have an appointment with Madame Lulu for a pedicure in the morning and I’ve already rescheduled four times and I can’t reschedule again because if I do they will just cancel me forever so I can’t do this hike with you guys. Sorry for the inconvenience. Have a nice day.”
This is where the actual ascent begins. The first major segment of the the trek is about 1.5 miles to the top of Vernal Falls, with a footbridge about 8/10 of a mile into the hike. It’s about 1000 feet of elevation gain.
We started upward. We continued upward. We kept going upward. We briefly stopped going upward after about a quarter mile to get some night shots of the moon, and take in the view of the Merced River, roaring along a hundred feet, or so, below us.
I took a couple of shots with my Android…
View of the full moon
View looking down at the river
It must have been spectacular. It certainly sounded spectacular. I really couldn’t tell because, it was one O’Clock in the morning and it was dark out. And the moon was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. And trees. And giant rocks.
We continued on and, after about another half mile, came to the foot bridge below Vernal Falls, the water screaming below beneath our feet as we gazed up at the falls reflected in the moonlight.
We pushed forward, soon coming to the first relatively tough part of the journey – The Steps…
I took a picture…
The Mist Trail and Vernal Falls are famous for many things, three of which stand out…
One: There are a lot of granite steps involved – that’s steps as in ‘stairs’ – around 400 of them, in fact. They are not in the least bit even. Some are a foot tall, some are nearly three feet tall. Not easy on the knees.
*I once ran up these steps – 25 years ago. In the day time. Alone. When I got to the top, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I promised myself that I would never do that again.
So far, I have kept that promise.
Two: Mist. That’s why they call it the Mist Trail. If the falls are running well, it’s really, really wet. Not “umbrella” wet. Not “light rain” wet. Think “I’m standing in the middle of a storm cloud” wet. Bring a rain poncho. And be prepared for slippery footing.
Three: Death. A lot of people die in Yosemite. Most of them die by not being careful on the Mist Trail or by being carried over the top of Vernal Falls because they ignored the warning signs and got into the water above the falls.
Fortunately, all of us on the hike are well experienced in the art of getting to the top of Vernal Falls and not getting into the water. We arrived there without incident.
I took a group shot…
Left to right:
Donna, Brian, Megan, Lauren, Shawn, Nicole (standing next to the tree) (I’m not in this one – I’m taking the picture)
Once at the top of the falls, we regrouped, which is my way of saying that they waited for me to catch up (Once again, I was my own group for a few minutes). We discussed our progress so far, carefully reviewed the next segment, took our bearings and, resuming our walk, headed out.
…During my 13 weeks in bootcamp, I learned such rudimentary life skills as how to fold my underwear, how to guard a clothesline and (for our purposes, here) how to start walking in the correct manner.
Not that I didn’t learn anything else – I did. For one thing, I had a lot of instruction in Language skills, which I never really put to the intended use, but if I ever need them I have them right here in the back of my mind.
For these, and other lessons, I wish to thank my company commander, William F. Pospissil, BM1, USN.
You can imagine my mother’s surprise when, upon my return from San Diego, I not only explained that she had been folding my underwear errantly for the entire previous 19 years of my life, but provided her an educational and exacting demonstration of the proper way of doing so.
Unfortunately, we had no clothesline (or rifle) with which to provide proper instruction, so I was forced to forego that favor.
Additionally, I figured she had already been walking incorrectly for 40 years and it was probably too late to help her with that, so I let that one go, too.
And I sure as hell didn’t try to help her with her language skills…
So why am I telling you all this? So that I can pick up where I left off on the right foot.
With all the confidence I gained in boot camp (in my ability to begin a journey correctly), I lifted my leg, extended it forward about 2 feet, pushed off with my opposing foot and, in true military fashion, started the hike that would change my life forever…
…This whole adventure started sometime early in the Year of My Kidneys, 2011, with a discussion among several family members… Specifically, the ones who regularly do the Half Dome hike at least once a year…
More specifically, the ones who aren’t me (Man of Action)…
Not that I haven’t done the hike before – I have – twice since 2005. Both during the daylight hours (at least in the middle of the hike).
The thing that made this particular chapter of “Hey! Let’s do Half Dome!” particularly attractive (to Man of Action, at least) was the part about “And let’s do it at night by the full moon!”
(One must keep in mind that some of them had done the “full moon” version of the trek before. Man of Action, however, was not among that particular group.)
Always ready to keep up with the younger set (and encouraged by the fact that Donna – a couple of years older than me – had done the hike a total of eight (8) more times than I have), Man of Action eagerly accepted the invitation to, once again, put my life on the line and, this time, do it at night… When nobody could see how stupid I was…
Jump ahead, now, several months… (Begin “jumping ahead” transitional music…)
It has now been several months since the house burned down, taking with it
9 guitars
3 amplifiers
gobs of recording equipment
1 grand piano
Tons of other stuff including
2 bicycles
1 home gym
1 elliptical trainer
1 pair of hiking boots (downhill persuasion)
various weights and other exercise equipment
Loads of camping equipment
And making unavailable
All of our hiking gear
Plus the fact that we were extremely heavily involved with
contractors
architects
county building permit departments
tax assessors
suicide counselors
And keeping in mind that, for the previous trips, Man of Action
worked up to it way ahead of time – like for 18 months ahead of time…
Add all that together and you come up with a grand total of approximately zero (0) time to train and get ready for the beast…
So, what does Man of Action do to prepare?
6 weeks prior to the big day he decides it might be a good idea to drop a few pounds.
So He did. About 20 of them.
And how did I do it?
Diet. Exercise. Stupidity…
Sadly, emphasis heavily on “Diet and Stupidity” and not enough on “Exercise”.
But Man of Action drank a lot of water – that has to mean something, doesn’t it?
Insert another jump in time here… About 6 weeks worth of the stuff…
July 14, in the Year of My Kidneys, 2011… 11:59 PM… 31 minutes before we embark on the great adventure…
The group, Donna, Shawn, Megan, Brian, Lauren, Nicole and MOA, gather outside the camp site, on the road to Happy Isles – the trail head.
It’s dark, except for the light of the full moon, sort of… Sort of, because it’s also cloudy.
We think we’re ready to go, but we’re not. That’s because Brian informs the group that Lauren may not be able to go because her bladder is leaking..
This raises a concern because there aren’t a lot of restrooms on the 8.5 mile climb to the top of Half Dome.
Happily, though, Lauren makes it clear that Brian is referring to her ‘water’ bladder and not to any physiological parts.
There is still some concern, however, because before joining the group, Brian and Lauren have discussed the matter, and Brian has – somewhat emphatically – stated his belief that nobody in his right mind carries an extra bladder.
“I have an extra bladder, if you want to use it,” says Man of Action.
Brian displays a face covered with egg and not a small amount of shock. Lauren, on the other hand, has the face of an angel that says “Without using my hands, I thumb my nose at you, Brian,” and then continues verbally, “I like your hat, Bill. And I would be happy to use your extra bladder”.
Towhich MOA gallantly responds, “I have cleaned and disinfected it, so you need not worry about becoming 60 years old before the end of the hike.”
Another20 minutes to locate, fill and insert it into her backpack, and we were ready to embark…
At the trailhead. Left to Right: Man of Action, Donna, Nicole, Shawn, Megan, Lauren, Brian. Flash photography is good.
The sixty year old man was semi-sitting up on the gurney in the emergency room, after the forty-five mile ambulance ride from the small mountain town of Oakhurst, just seven miles north of his home in Coarsegold. Oh, he didn’t look sixty, true enough, but right then he was feeling it. He didn’t look sick, either, but right then he was feeling that, too. And, in fact, he was sick… really sick…
He had just successfully completed a solid week of vomiting, dry heaves, sleeplessness and generally feeling worse every half hour of life that he had managed to crawl through. It didn’t help that he had not been able to urinate, have a bowel movement or even fart the entire week – he was feeling somewhat full on the inside, even though the only thing he could keep down the last four days was hot chocolate. And, of course, there was the constant taste of ammonia in his mouth.. “Where the heck did that come from?”, he thought to himself.
The x-rays taken in the urgent care facility he had walked into a few hours earlier – for the second time that week – showed massive build up of gases in his abdominal cavity. But the thing that bought him a ride in an ambulance and entrance into the emergency room was the lab report. It was really ugly, and the doctor didn’t even make an attempt to put lipstick on it.
“I’m completely baffled by your lab results – they don’t match what I’m getting from you.”
“What do you mean,” asked the patient, thinking that the doctor thought he might be lying about how he feels.
“Well, I’m looking at you and I see a man who, while he may be feeling under the weather, looks otherwise perfectly healthy and fit.” He continued, “But the lab results show me a man in complete renal failure and ready to have his heart explode at any minute.”
This, naturally, piqued the patient’s curiosity beyond the point where he could shut up.
“You mean I’m dead?”
“No, but I don’t know why not, and you are well on your way.” Then, in an effort to temper the effect of his last statement, he informed the patient that he was being sent to the hospital. Right now. In an ambulance…
The admitting nurse, a large man of about forty with vastly thinning hair, was sitting at a computer typing in information from the forms so nicely provided by Todd, the attending paramedic. He interrupted his flying fingers in an effort to become social for a minute.
“Says here that the patient is sixty years old. You don’t look sixty years old and I want to make sure I have the right guy.”
“OK.”
“So how old are you?”
“Sixty”.
““You sure?”
“Pretty sure. “
The nurse gave him a look that said ‘Alright, I’ll use ‘sixty’ for now,’ and entered the ‘information’ saying “OK, sixty years old”.
“Thank you for your confidence.”
“So why are you in my emergency room?”
“I would like to be sixty-one some day.”
This, actually, caused the nurse to smile, though the smile was followed by another inquiry into how the man came to be applying for residence in his hospital..
I would like to begin by introducing the cast of the main characters involved in the making of this incredible story of companionship, encouragement, achievement and survival…
Donna: #2 Spouse-In-Law, F *
* This classification may require some explanation, so here it is:
I have several sets of married children. Each of their spouses is my son/daughter-in-law.
Carrying through the logic of the “in-law” tradition and extrapolating it out to the respective parents of the in-law in the equation (as I see it, anyway), this gives these particular parents some sort of pseudo-spousal relationship with the parents of the other spouse in the marriage.
Hence, I refer to these parents as “Spouses-In-Law”.
Being as I have several sets of S-I-L, I find it necessary to differentiate each set from the other, and then within each set, from each other.
I just figured that it would be simplest to number them in the order in which we all became related, so, in this case, Donna is the female half of the second set of S-I-L to connect as clan members with Judy and me.
The order number has no reflection on any preference on my part, just on when our kids were married relative to when the others were married.
And, as you may have already discerned, the “F” would normally be associated with an “M” and would indicate the gender of the party in question within that parenthoodship.
Now, you are probably asking “Why don’t you just say Dean’s parents or Megan’s parents or Lacey’s parents?” To that, I would respond, “Think about who is writing this. It’s me – remember?”
To that (at least if you have read anything else I have written on this site), you should respond with something like, “Oh yeah, that makes perfect sense.”
Megan: Shawn’s wife, my daughter-in-law
Brian: Megan’s brother (I have not yet fully developed the relationship classification at this level. And I don’t think you want me to here, but I am thinking something like “#2 Son-In-law, once removed).)
Nicole: Friend of Megan, Shawn, Donna, Brian, Lauren and me (we’re just friends – honest – so that makes it simple)
Shawn: My middle son and third child all around.
Then, of course, there is the supporting cast of
Judy: my wife
Bob: #2 Spouse-In-Law, M
Madeline Rose: Most beautiful baby in the galaxy
*I began writing this on July 16, 2011. It is now October 29, 2011. Lauren has married Brian, which now would (if I go with this convention) make her #2 Daughter-in-law twice removed.
So with all that out of the way, let us move forward…
I completely shattered a record on Friday! I really did! A speed record, no less!
I made the round trip Half Dome hike faster than any human (in the 450 to 550 pound weight class) has ever done it before!
There are, for most people, about 100,000 steps in the round trip, up and back, to and from the very tippy-top of Half Dome. How do I know this? I know this because, 5 years ago, two of my closest friends and I did the Panorama Trail hike. That’s about 8 miles from the top of Glacier Point to the bottom of Yosemite Valley.
Dave and I had just purchased some pretty good quality pedometers, and had them fired up and zeroed out when we began our descent. When we got to the end of the trail, we had piled up 47,000 steps.
Half Dome is a 17 mile round trip, so when you add all of that up it comes out to about 100,000 steps.
For most people…
But, friends, I’m here to tell you that I am not most people. Oh, I keep the same “normal” human being pace as everybody else on the way up, but about two hours into the return trip I begin to walk like ET. For me, you have to add about 50,000 steps.
BUT, and this is important, there are mitigating factors in play here..
For one, I only had my “uphill” boots with me. (Actually, I think I’ll just stick with this one for now. If I need more excuses later on, I’ll throw in as many as I deem necessary to make me not look incompetent.) What the heck is an “uphill” boot and why does it matter? And does it mean that there are also “downhill” boots? And if so, where were mine? And who in their right mind carries two pairs of boots when they go hiking?
In answer to the last question, I would just like to say, “Me”.
In answer to the other questions:
Q: What are “uphill” boots?
A: “Uphill” boots are otherwise normal hiking boots, and have the following qualities:
They look really cool on the shelf and on the trail.
They cost over $150.00.
They grip granite and other natural products with the ferocity of a pit bull with his jaws clenched around a burglar (or a canary, for that matter).
Generally, they will keep your feet dry.
AND they are about two sizes too short for the length of your toes.
It’s this last attribute that makes “uphill” boots phenomenal for going uphill, but absolutely horrifying for the trip back.
Q:Does this mean that there are also “downhill” boots?
A: Yes, there are downhill boots. They have the following attributes:
They don’t look nearly as cool as “uphill” boots. In fact, they are sort of plain.
They usually cost about $50.00 (at least mine did).
They grip granite and other natural products more than well enough to prevent you from killing yourself trying to walk on said products.
Generally, they will keep your feet dry.
They are well broken in and extremely comfortable.
They also make wonderful “uphill” boots.
AND they fit so that your toe nails will not go ramming into the front of the shoe with every step on a decline of more that .0005 degrees.
It’s this last quality that makes “downhill” boots so great for downhill hikes, but also wonderful for going uphill.
Q: Where were my “downhill” boots?
A: They are in “downhill” boot heaven – they went there when the house burned down.
And a special bonus question and answer…
Q: If “downhill boots are great in either direction, why did I even have “uphill” boots?
A: They cost over $150.00. You figure it out from there.
One last thing before we get started here – When I started writing this, I had just survived (pretty much for the third time since July, 2005) the Half Dome trip. Interestingly, shortly after I began writing I spent a few weeks in the hospital because I survived (pretty much for the third time since July, 2005) the Half Dome trip. Had I done what I should have done (die) at the time I should have done it(before I survived it), I would never have started writing this and I wouldn’t have to pick up from where I wouldn’t have left off in the first place.
But, alas, it was not to be. I did, in fact, survive; and I did, in fact, start writing the very day after the survival. That being the case, I need to offer a slight disclosure statement:
Because my kidneys failed, and because I think they are somehow attached directly to my brain, I may not remember everything the way it happened. (I am probably wrong, so you can pretty much accept every word as gospel. I just want to give you an out so you don’t have to feel stupid if you end up believing thatI actually beat everybody down the trail and back to camp.)
OK – so now we have that out of the way and we can get started…
Hmmm.. Well isn’t this embarrassing… After all that build up and ground work laying, I don’t seem to remember anything about that hike right now, except for the words “I’ll go as far as I can go and this ain’t it.”…
Bummer…
Well, let me think about this for awhile and I’ll get back with you…
Well, hello again, readers.. It is me, back for another bout of How To Live A Successful Life. This time, we are going to discuss the special benefits of Action over Words.
You know, you may be one of the very incredibly few people living in this quadrant of the galaxy who realizes that I am not much of a talker. I am, in fact, a man of few, if any, words.
That is because, you see, words do not, in actual reality, accomplish anything, if anything, at all. Really.
“So,” you ask (and if you are not asking, please do so immediately), “of what do you speak in such abbreviated fashion?”
Be still, and I will attempt to put it across to you in the very teensy-tiniest most minute quantity of words as is humanly possible, given the fact that I am, of course, loath to utilize any inordinate amount of verbosity in the explanation of the secrets of shutting up and getting things done.
“Action!” Yes, I say “Action”, my friend…
“Action” is what will get us from the very beginning all the way to the very end…
What world needs is “Action”! “Action” is what we need!
And, that being the case, I must now confess, in as few words a possible, that the reason I am nearly always silent in my demeanor is that, as a matter of fact, I am a…
Man Of Action…
Alas, it is true….
I know, I know.. You thought I was just the quiet type.. Shy, soft spoken and, perhaps, just a bit introverted. Quite possibly you believed that I was, to put it delicately, unable to string together more than two or three letter written statements or responses to questions or statements posed to me in any social or business situation.
Well, I can now come out of the closet and assure you that none of that is, in reality, true at all. Behind all of the “reserved” mannerisms you are accustomed to seeing (or reading, as the case may be) exhibited by me exists a veritable level five hurricane of activity. Always…
That’s because I understand that words without action mean nothing, but action without words means you don’t have to talk a lot to be understood and respected.
Consider this… Have all of the words in the history of human speech and writing ever accomplished anything?
NO! Only when words are backed up with action has anything ever been accomplished.
Words can educate us. Words can inform us. Words can even inspire us. But there is nothing so useless as unused knowledge or inspiration.And there is none so inactive as one who will not act!
And that is why I am a Man Of Action…
You do not believe me? Well let me prove it to you right now by taking action to alleviate your doubts…
One of the finest examples of how I am a constant flurry of activity – a blur of perpetual motion, as it were – that I can think of goes like this:
In stead of talking about taking a nap, I would much rather just spring into action and do it.
Things With Six Strings 