Trials and Tribulations

 This should be a pleasant story about the latest fishing trip my buddy Joe and I went on. It's not.

 

June 12^th: Fishing buddy Joe and I drove 450 miles (13 hours) north to the little town of Clova in northern Quebec. Pretty uneventful, apart from our usual confusion in getting through Ottawa. Local construction and closed roads meant yet another new route for us. (Shortly after exiting Ottawa, a misread sign also called for a u-turn.)

We checked in with Caesar’s North Camps, paid for our licenses and Goin Reservoir permits, and straightened out details for our flight out to our cabin the next morning. Then we had dinner at the only place in town where we also got our room key for the night.

 

June 13^th (FRIDAY the 13^th): Slightly foggy morning so our departure was delayed. Still, we were in the air in a slightly cramped Cessna before 10 am and at the cabin about 45 minutes later.

The pilot walked us through the usual instructions and helped launch the boat. The boat was a 16-footer with a 20 hp motor; larger than usual, but that’s because there was more open water around this site.

After a quick sandwich for lunch, we prepared to do some fishing. I was in the boat while Joe passed the gear to me and this is where my first injury occurred. Joe reached over with his tackle box. I was unaware of just how heavy it was and the weight jerked my outstretched right arm violently. I was pretty sure I had damaged the joint but was determined to fight through the pain even as I pulled the engine’s starter rope. (After that first afternoon, the engine was left in idle all day as we drifted with the breeze just so I didn’t have to pull that damn rope too often!)

June 14^th through June 17^th: The mornings were smooth as glass and the afternoons a little too choppy for much fishing. The fishing was also a little slower than we were used to. That may have been due to the clear skies or the fact that we had never been there this early in the season before. Still, we boated a few keepers which Joe filleted. We had walleye for dinner once and froze the rest. (We were allowed to bring home 8 walleye each and were determined to limit out.)

Tuesday, right after lunch and before the wind chased us off the water, we were visited by the authorities. For the first time in 30+ years we had our paperwork checked and our boat casually inspected by three Goin Reservoir officials. One female and two male officers pulled alongside and asked for our papers which we had tucked in our tackle boxes. They asked how the fishing was (slow, we had thrown back a few shorts and had no fish on board) and where our camp was (right over there, we were almost in sight of it) and that was it. They wished us luck and motored off. Not another boat in sight—which was true for most of our trip.

June 18^th, Wednesday: We needed five fish to limit out and this would be our last day. And it started out overcast with a breeze producing a little chop. If it got worse, we would be forced to concede and start packing up. It did not get worse. In fact, in an exact opposite to the last few days, the lake smoothed out and we found just the right spot. We boated several small walleye but also caught several of the biggest of the trip. When we had five nice fish on the stringer, it was time to call it quits and head in to pack for our departure.

I pulled the boat up to the dock to unload our gear then swung back out to ride the boat back onto the ramp to get it out of the water. I drove the boat as far up the ramp as I could and Joe pulled on the bow rope to get it a wee bit higher before throwing the rope around a tree.

I moved up to the bow, put my left foot over the gunnel and on to firm land---that’s when the boat decided to slide back down the ramp—with me straddling the gunnel. If you’ve ever seen the cartoon of a fisherman/sailor in that predicament you probably laughed. I’m here to tell you it ain’t funny! I literally (and I use the word correctly) heard something tear--and it wasn’t my pants. I screamed as stars and little canaries circled my head and pain shot through my groin. Now I knew how the turkey’s wishbone felt on Thanksgiving.

Joe asked if I was alright and I said I would get back to him on that. Several minutes later, I was able to crawl over the gunnel on to dry land. I made it back to the cabin and was surprised I had not actually torn my skin. There was no discoloration. I should have put ice on it immediately, but what little we had we needed it to get our fish home. I didn’t even have any extra strength Tylenol just the arthritis pain formula which would have to do. I also had eight cans of beer which were now to be used for medicinal purposes.

June 19^th: Departure day. Still in pain, the black and blue started to appear. Not surprising as I’m on blood thinners. I managed to get my gear all packed the night before and the rest went smoothly. We were told we would be picked up between 7 and 8 am but, for the first time all week we had rain overnight and continued drizzle through the early morning hours. Could be worse back a Clova. In any event, we didn’t hear a plane until near 9 am.

Plane got loaded (Joe had hauled all our stuff down to the dock) and the pilot did his inspection. Then I had to get in. Avoiding any movement of my left leg in the wrong direction, trying to get up from the pontoon to the Cessna’s rear seat via two overly large steps, squeezing into that seat which started off having no leg room and got even less when the pilot’s long legs required his moving his seat back…I don’t think I screamed aloud, but I could be wrong. Back at base camp, getting out of the plane was almost as difficult and painful.

Eventually (around 11 am) we got on the road home with me doing the driving plenty of room on the left when you’ve an automatic and need only to use the brake and gas pedals. Thirteen hours. I only got out at the duty free shop.

June 20^th: Friday  1:30 am Home! Alone. Joe has headed home down south near Jersey Shore, PA. Terry is still in Gettysburg on a stitching retreat. I’m in too much pain to sleep though I try in the recliner upstairs.

6:30 am I’ve had enough and head over to the emergency room at Troy Hospital where It’s confirmed I may have a damaged rotator cuff in my right shoulder and a torn/strained groin muscle. Blood drawn for tests, X-rays and CAT-scan for the shoulder, ultrasound for the groin. The latter two required I lay down which I initially could not do. Some IV pain killer helped, but because I drove myself to the ER, I couldn’t get the good stuff. I was home by 10 am with instructions to set up an appointment with an orthopedist but come back to the ER should it get worse.

Set up an appointment via an online portal for Tuesday. But the pain got worse in the shoulder, and the technicolor display in the groin had me, if no one else, concerned. (Apparently this is “normal” for us folks on blood thinners. I know I’ve bruised like this before, but the pain! They didn’t seem to grasp just how badly the groin muscles hurt!)

June 22^nd: With the shoulder pain worsening, I went back to the ER on Sunday morning. Saw the ER doc (not a PA or NP) who pretty much repeated my Friday morning instructions and fitted me with a sling.

June 24^th: Tuesday I visited the orthopedic department at Robert Packer Hospital. After a series of range of motion tests and a little poking and prodding, I was told I probably have some damage to the rotator cuff (DUH!) but an MRI will be scheduled to determine if surgery is needed. (Unfortunately, not being an emergency—for them—it won’t be until July 11^th that the MRI can be done.

 

No one seemed to know who I should see about all the pain and black-and-blue in my groin. (Probably should have called the vascular people, but the left foot still has a pulse.)

In any event, and to keep her informed, I rescheduled an appointment with my primary care from September 16^th to June 30^th.

 

After several nights in the recliner, I finally got to sleep in the bed last night. And the purple is receding somewhat. It's still painful and a yucky yellow-green. 

 

Keep me in your thoughts 

 

 

Another Day: Travels of 2024 Part Two

 Now where was I.... Oh yeah, we had a very quiet Thanksgiving with just the two of us and the cats. 

Hunting season was a bust as the cold drove me crazy--as did the two doe that snuck up behind me on my off side on opening day. I spent most of the remainder of the day shivering and hoping to hear shots nearby. The same was true for day two. No activity within a mile I would guess. 

Terry mentioned my getting skunked and discouraged to one of her sewing friends who happens to live on a 250 acre farm where her husband, son and son-in-law have special permits to take as many deer as they want/need to remove. I got number 11 for this year. All I had to do was haul it to the processor in Cherry Flats and pay to have it butchered. Which I did the day before we were to hit the road to go west.

This trip was to visit Brian, Vicky and George: Terry's nephew, his wife and son. They live in Whitefish Bay just on the northern edge of Milwaukee. Normally they come to the Aerie for Thanksgiving but we were going to switch things around so we could see their newly renovated and expanded home--until I mentioned deer season starting the Saturday after Thanksgiving. So we were going to do an early Christmas. 

Terry and I were in the same vehicle this time but the first stage of our trip was the same. On the 18th of December west we went to stop in Elkland, Indiana and dinner at the Chubby Trout.

On Day 2, we traveled west of Chicago before turning north on I-355 toward Milwaukee. Best way to avoid the real heavy traffic of Chicago but still not of my liking as far as number of vehicles on the road. I like to tell Terry--or anyone that will listen--that I'm not just driving MY vehicle, I'm also trying to anticipate what the drivers around me might do. That gets more difficult as the number of drivers increases. That's why I really, really hate driving through cities and will go miles and miles out of my way to avoid doing so. And why I break out in a sweat when I must. 

We survived the ordeal that only got worse when snow started falling when we crosse the Illinois border into Wisconsin. Not much--yet--but enough to cause a few slips and slides and a few cars in the ditch. We got to Whitefish Bay with little no difficulty--except when I got off I-355 one exit too soon and we wandered around the backroads for a while before we got on a highway east bound toward Milwaukee.

We spent Days 3 and 4 (December 20th and 21st) just hanging around the house, shoveling snow, cooking, drinking and watching football. 

Day 5 (Sunday, December 22nd) Would have been more of the same but Brian had managed to score some tickets at the arena where his company had a box to see the Trans Siberian Orchestra. Terry went nuts! She is a huge fan and watches them every time they are on PBS. (Brian wasn't aware of this and cautiously brought up the topic. Brian also scored tickets to see the Celtic Women a few years back. Needless to say, he is her favorite nephew!) What a show! Classical music meets heavy metal accented with lasers and pyrotechnics. WOW!

Day 6 (Monday) We bid farewell and started our journey home. Retracing our way down I-355 to I-80 and then east bound. This time we stopped in the town of Elyria, Ohio just west of Akron. 

Day 7 (Tuesday, Christmas Eve) We were traveling in the tail end of a dusting of snow that was slightly deeper in the hills of western PA. My onboard computer kept telling me it had a shorter route home than the I-80 trail I was following so I finally gave up and agreed to veer off onto a two lane road, PA-66 just west of Clarion, PA. We had never been in this area of PA before so it was virgin territory to us. This eventually took me up to US-6 in Kane. From there it was east bound and down to home.

Since then, things have been pretty quiet around the Aerie. Except for the little bit of snow on the ground when we got home and the accumulation at the end of the driveway from the plow, I've not had to shovel anything--yet. Mostly I've been doing puzzles and tending the fireplace, while Terry has been doing Zoom meetings--and a few face-to-face ones as well.

We were supposed to go to NJ last weekend for a grand-niece's birthday--and a belated exchange of Christmas gifts--but illness in NJ prevented that and snow may prevent it this weekend. 

That's all for now. I'll try to be back sooner.

Two Months?

 Wow, I can't believe it's been two months since I wrote about going to Jess and Jack's wedding out in Lisle, IL. Time to make up for that, I guess.

TO Lisle, Illinois and Overland Park, Kansas in mid-November, 2024

On Monday, November 11th, Terry and I (driving different vehicles, remember?) headed west and met in Elkhart, Indiana the first night of our journey because it was fall and night comes too early for us old folks! And we were familiar with the area. We drove a couple of miles into the center of town and found a motel and a beautifully named restaurant, The Chubby Trout. Excellent food and beer in what is a sports bar/restaurant setting. A little loud and very crowded. Twas a good thing we were there early!

Next day we continued our journey to Lisle and the hotel Terry had reservations for. We were again a little early but had time to call the kids and see what was happening. Unfortunately, with both of them having tested positive for Covid (Jack's test came on that morning, Tuesday the 12th) they didn't want to take the chance of getting us sick too, so our interactions were going to be limited. 

Terry and I had dinner at The Bavarian Lodge in Lisle. It was Schnitzel for me and Sauer Braten for Terry who also had liver dumpling soup. Beer selection was eclectic, but I can never remember what I order.

We had plans for Wednesday but with the kids being ill, we just lounged around the hotel all day. (Should have packed my bathing suit!) Dinner that night was at Cooper's Hawk Winery just a short drive around the corner in Naperville. Excellent wine selection and food! (Shrimp and scallop risotto, and pretzel encrusted pork chop)

Finally, the big day arrived and we all drove over to the county courthouse for the nuptials. It turned out that there were about eight or so couples doing the same thing and it was like watching an episode of Night Court. Nearly all the brides were in wedding gowns of a variety of styles. Jess' was, perhaps, the most traditional minus the train and veil. And she wore purple sneakers to match her purple flowers. We four were the only ones wearing masks. Couples and their witnesses were called into chambers one at a time to exchange vows in front of the judge and his clerk. Jess and Jack were the last to be called because many of the others required a Spanish translator, and rather than having to call him for each couple, they did all of those one after the other. There was one Polish couple, but they needed no translator. 

One couple--yeah, the Polish couple--hadn't picked up their license the day before and the bride and groom had to hustle their butts downstairs to do so while the bridesmaid took care of the little one waiting to see his parents do the right thing.

Neither the judge nor his clerk were masked up but Terry and I played along with the kids and kept ours on. The ceremony was brief and without a sealing kiss. And the judge even took our picture afterwards.

We drove back to the kids' apartment, handed over to keys and title of the RAV4 to Jess. Terry and Jess (still in her wedding gown) then drove to the DMV to transfer the title. Jack and I stood around in the parking lot of the apartments chatting for half an hour. When Terry and Jess returned, we hugged and fist bumped, and bid adieu. Covid prevented them from enjoying a celebratory dinner at Fogo de Choa, a fantastic Brazilian style steakhouse. 

On the 15th, Terry and I departed for Lucille and Doug's home in Overland Park, Kansas. Lou had recently had brain surgery to remove a growth that impinging on her pituitary gland and Terry was naturally concerned. Laura and Joe (Lucille's daughter and husband) live nearby so we could visit everybody at once.

I had not been to either house, just as I had not seen Jess since she moved to Lisle. I think the last time I saw Laura and her kids was over eight years ago when her youngest boy, Matthew was still in a carry seat and Julia had yet to be born. That visit took place when I was on a solo journey around the country and they were still in the Napa Valley area. 

We arrived late in the afternoon at Lou's home and were given the grand tour. And "grand" it was! I thought our Aerie was more house than two people need, but Lou and Doug have double the size. Of course, they also have the three grandkids just a couple of blocks away and they can occupy lots of space when present as we found out at dinner and breakfast. 

After a very brief but happy visit, we were on our way home travelling I-70 north to I-71 north until we could get on I-80 east. Then it was PA Route 220 to Route 15 north and home with one overnight stop in Cloverdale just west of Terra Haute, Indiana

We retraced a good portion of this trip in late December but that's a tale for another day.