Captain Jim

Nice..... My shipmates...got to watch my back, I do... And not to worry, Jack, I will be back at PiP. William, I realize I was in error in not having one of you standing by in the surgery to ah, press my case with the physicians. Still, seeing as how you were planning to divide my shares so quickly, I may want someone else to accompany you should the time ever come again. Just bein' cautious is all...

It's dark out...have you ever tried to take a picture of a black lab at night? Hell, it's hard finding a black lab at night.

Yeah, they're sisters, blacks. I'll post pictures soon.

'Twas but a small piece. I shan't miss it. Glad to have it gone, actually, traitorous bit of flesh that it was.

Hey, all. Some of you have noticed that my post rate has been down quite a bit lately, that I went missing there for about a month. Well it seems I was busy trying not to die. The short of it is that I had my appendix removed at the ripe old age of 51. Indications are that it should have been done at 50. I am recovering. The long version is that my appendix didn't go down like a normal appendix where the victim gets excruciating pain in the lower right abdomen, goes to the hospital, has it removed and is back on the street two days later and to work a few days after that. No, mine had been chronically infected for anywhere from eight months to a year, the infection slowly spreading until February 10 when it went critical, probably kicked off by some stomach bug the kids brought home from day care. The kids got over the bug in 24 hours. I kept getting these 104 degree fevers about every four to six hours until I went to the ER on the 13th (yes, that would be Friday the Thirteenth. I should have known). I suggested that it might be my appendix as my entire abdomen was involved. The on-duty Doc did the normal appendix test (pokes the appendix area: if its infected the patient screams). I had no centralized pain so he concluded that I had a virus and would get over it in time. Over the weekend more fevers. Went to my GP on Monday. Same appendix test. Sent out for blood work, to return in two days. Nothing in the blood work to pinpoint the source of infection. More fevers, more blood work searching for the source. All of my organs reported in normal, nothing terribly out of whack except my white cell count was off the chart. Five separate consulting physicians were brought in. Yes I had an infection, just no one knew where. The one thing that they all agreed on was that it couldn't be my appendix because I had no localized pain there. Eventually I was sent for a blood culture test, to determine if I was suffering from some sort of blood infection. The results came back marked "Possible sample contamination" because there was so much going on in there. My circulatory system had become a petting zoo. My GP suggested that I check into the hospital, so I could be monitored more closely. Too bad he forgot to prescribe Tylenol, a substance that had become my best friend. Without it and without authorization to get it in the hospital my record temperature was pegged at 104.7. Some minor hallucinations. Blood tests every four hours. Isolation room, as no one knew what it was that I had. It was a rough first night. Now mind you that this was Friday, March the sixth, three and one-half weeks after the initial February 10th "stomach virus." I would eventually lose 25 pounds. As I didn't have 25 pounds to lose I started giving up muscle mass. Saturday the seventh, in hospital, more blood tests, including another culture test. More specialists were brought in, including representatives from the Center for Disease Control, cancer specialists, blood specialists. Same results as before: I was loaded with wildlife but without any obvious source since it couldn't be my appendix. Saturday afternoon a CT scan was ordered. All the while fevers topping out at 104 (I had Tylenol again.) Sunday AM I am declared non-infectious and the isolation order is lifted. I can now be visited by my wife, friends and family (but not my kids: I looked like something out of a bad zombie flick. It would have scared the crap out of them. Hell, I was scaring the crap out of me.) Sunday afternoon the results of the CT scan had been analyzed and...it was my appendix after all. Two hours later that puppy was gone. As I had a laproscopic surgery I got to see a picture of the appendix in situ: It was huge, misshapen and had a spidery-looking, necrotic, gangrenous abscess on it. It had been infected for some time. Now I know why I needed those naps after the battles at PiP: I was fighting it off way back then. I spent five more days in the hospital. After returning home I was pretty useless. I would cook myself breakfast and then put it in the 'fridge because I was too tired to eat it. I'm still working at recovering anything like stamina, still need periodic naps. Gaining weight by working out and taking walks. I look pretty good, I just have no reserve gas in the tank. Every day after returning home I had to drive in to Bradenton (50 miles each way) for intraveinous antibiotics to get rid of the various critters that had taken up residence. Patti drove the first few days. After that I drove but had to stop on the way to rest. Thirty minutes was about my limit behind the wheel. Then I'd pull over, nap a bit, then continue on. It took an hour and a half the first day I went solo to drive the 50 miles. I got better at it after about a week. Those treatments lasted six weeks. Something else turned up on the CT scan that I'm still working on. I have blood clots everywhere, probably as a result of the prolonged generalized infections. Some are quite large and in bad places but no occlusions have occurred. I'm taking "blood thinners" (anticoagulants) to dissolve them. Another CT scan is scheduled for early May. In the meantime I've become a self-induced hemophiliac. I'm actually under Doc's orders not to do anything where I might get hurt. No ladders, no power tools. A broken arm could prove fatal at this point. A paper cut took three days to stop bleeding. So I'm getting to the point that I'm able to get some things done around the house and have time left over to hang out at the Pub again, so I'll be posting a bit more often. I tried a couple of times when I first got home and couldn't read for more than about 15 minutes. By the way, you people write way too much stuff. I got on line yesterday and had to wade through 15 pages just of topics that had been updated since I had last signed on. To quote Monty Python, "I'm not dead yet!" Many thanks have to go to my wife, Patti, who had to go to work and then take care of the three kids and the two eight-week-old labrador puppies we got two days before I went into the hospital. She was a trooper. She's still going to kick my ass when I get better for scaring her so badly. Bizarre post script to the above episode: My 29-year-old daughter who lives in Kentucky called while I was in the hospital and gave me hell for not supporting her genetically. It seems that her mother and half-brother had both lost their appendixes and I was supposed to supply the genetic material that would allow her to not worry about losing her appendix. So she read me the riot act for losing my appendix, thereby disappointing her genetically. She contracted appendicitis and had her appendix removed exactly two weeks later. It's good to be back.

Now, now...I'm only the Captain, with authority in time of battle. William is the Quartermaster, and in control most of the time as the crew is a democracy, after all... I'll be happy to perform weddings as well, though, good for the duration of the voyage... Congratulations to you both.

Whoo-Hooo! Best news I've had for a while. 'Bout time, too.

Now that was funny. Makes me wish I had recorded the disposal of this year's gingerbread house: Set it on the porch and blew it away with a .75 caliber cannon. Next year... It also reminds me of what happens at the skeet range the first time you score 100: All your fellow shooters get together and shoot your hat. No, not while its on your head, silly, they throw it up in the air first.

I feel for you and your father. Family can be such a trap sometimes, most often when it should be a support. Very sad.

Any time that you start drilling holes in a tube you weaken the tube so the "added" trunions are always an indication of a weak spot. By far not the best method. It's a shortcut to be avoided. But that wasn't your queation, was it? Best way to do this is to this is method 5, threaded and welded. And then sleeve the tube to replace the strenth lost in milling the pockets in the first place. But avoid tubes like this in the first place.

Welcome aboard, mate. Now if you plan your cruise right you'll end up in Key West in time for PiP this year. You and the first mate will be up to yer crosstrees in pyrates.

Happy Natal Day to the scurviest Munkey I know. Many more circumnavigations of the sun to ye.

Well and wealthy works for me! Happy bithday, indeed.

Well, at least now we know that the "baboon" played the smallest of ...ahem..."parts." Pray tell, do you "Gentlemen" always play your "parts" in concert with a baboon? Takes three-part harmony to a whole new low, it does...

So there ye be in London; Have ye haunted any of the ale houses that were standing in the early 1700's? Like the Red Lion perhaps?

Well, sir, thank you for not dying! That looks like it was an E-Ticket ride for sure. Mend up, ye crusty ol' Pyrate, so ye can show off them new scars. As I am fond of saying, scars are tattoos with better stories.

You tell us; you were supposedly there, sneaking out the back with the monkey. She does rather resemble Cheeky, doesn't she?

Well if that be William at the table, why is he trying to escape the lady's obvious advances? Not to mention her obvious...ahh...charms?

I was actually there that year but I was being fired at at the time and so missed that. Thanks for the link.

OK, that's a new one. I've seen and read of many cannon screw-ups, as a matter of "take note and don't do that yourself", but that one has to be unique.

Saturday is the 24th. Update on me. Looks (at this time) like I will be there on the 23rd, Friday. *Le Sigh.* I'll most likely bring weapons and check regs at the gate.

Perhaps, on some dark and drunken night in the Hide, Stynky will arrange that. Or rearrange that ...you know what I mean...

I got laid off in November...of last year. Aside from a couple of short-term gigs I havn't found anything.

My first post on the pub! While this may be a bit out of date in answer to the discussion, I use "fire in the hole" because it is the phrase that everyone understands. Righto, it is definitely not period authentic, but nobody mistakes what is to happen next. Wish we pirates had a better warning that would be as crystal clear. The thing is, the way things are done won't change until we change 'em. The next time you're at an event where all are trying to be "period correct" bring this up at the safety meeting. See what happens.

I know the rest of the brethren think we Pirates of the Dark Rose don't want to play with the rest, but I truely just have not been following the Pyracy Pub until now. So........yes, Crudbeard, Bloodthirsty, Oreo, and hopefully some of the rest of our crew are definitely planning to see tha rest o ya next year. As ta where we camp, having a tent inside is rather handy for the cannons, but the beach seems like a fun place ta be as well. Mebbe we will do both. Crudbeard Welcome Aboard! So glad to see you here ~ A dilemma, indeed ~ close to your big brassy babies, or out on the beach having fun? HA! Bring the babies to the beach ~ we'll treat 'em well. Indeed, welcome to the Pub, to you and yer crew.