Keith @ 91: re cats, moving thereof
When moved from TN to OR in June a few years back I did it with two cats and a large dog. Flying was right out.
The dog was a trouper. He rode in his crate, got in and out at stops easily, generally thought it was a grand adventure. Well, he's a Golden, they think everything is a grand adventure.
I'd planned on giving the cats a mild sedative for travel. On my vet's advice I gave them both a dose a couple of nights before the drive started so we were within easy reach of the prescribing vet in the event of a problem. Both tolerated it well, or so it appeared.
Morning of trip, go to administer pills. Fend off spirited attempts at disembowelment, nearly lose a finger. Desist, decide cat REALLY does not want pill. Decide not to dose either cat as one drugged up cat, one agitated undrugged cat is potentially hazardous to all involved.
Install dog's crate in van, install dog. Install cats in carrier. Take to van. Set up wire show crate gotten from Freecycle as follows: ratty familiar blanket I will trash at end of trip on floor of crate. Low plastic rectangular container with cat litter. Water bottles, food dishes. The triumph of the trip- top half (or hood) of covered litter box set in back of crate, creating both a hidey hole and a place to be up. Drape another familiar ratty blanket on top of crate.
Install cats in new travelling home. Drove for 5.5 days. Spent one very long evening in Missouri taking turns at sitting in van with cats because moving crate into hotel room contraindicated by HUGE thunderstorm.
There are good resources out there for finding pet friendly places to stay. With a book on travelling with pets and a book similar to this one (http://rvbookstore.com/shop/detail.aspx?m=2&p=319) and a cell phone we did just fine.
I can't stress enough how much of a difference just staying calm, keeping them down and warm and TALKING to them can help an accident victim.
I was one of the first two people at a very nasty car VS tree accident. It was a rural road in the pre-cell phone days (1972, I think, based on who I was with and which car we were in).
We got out, took one look at the driver and my companion started making 'we have to get him out' noises. The next nearest house was at least five miles away.
I said 'Give me both beach towels. Now, get in the car and go call for help Right Now. Do NOT have an accident and leave me hanging out here with this guy and no help. Go.'
The driver was pretty well pinned and kind of sort of awake. Since he could respond to simple questions (name, any one else in the car, ect.) I took A&B for granted and started checking for C.
Oh, yeah. The worst visible damage was a wound to his thigh. So I folded one of the towels and got pressure going, and used the other hand to tuck the spare towel over his upper torso like a blanket. All of this, mind you, hitched up over the driver's side window opening with my feet about an inch off the ground. (I'm short. The door was folded beyond opening.)
The victim kept trying to either shove me away- well, I'm sure what I was doing hurt- or (and this is a quote) 'take a little nap'. I just kept talking, using his name constantly. I was focussed enough that I didn't hear the sirens until they were practically on top of us.
One of the EMTs told me I could come out of the car and I explained why I was keeping pressure on the leg. So they kicked a box under my feet (to my eternal gratitude) and came in the other window. By the way, even under the blanket, a windshield being taken out of the car is very loud and sort of scary.
Then while two of the crew took care of the guy in the car another checked ME for injuries (oh, look, I cut myself on the car frame) and shock. And he was very nice and understanding about me going all wobbly and didn't let me hit my head when I started to pass out.
Three days later I went to visit the victim at the hospital. The only part of the accident he remembered was me. And really, just my voice, and the way I kept telling him I was going to stay right there and asking what he described as 'goofy questions'. The ER staff apparently expected his wife to answer to Barbara because he kept asking where I was.
On the 'You- call 911' I was taught a slighly longer version.
'You- call 911, and then come tell me when you've done it'.
'You-' is accompanied by eye contact or pointing or saying 'you- in the blue shirt'. The idea, in those long ago days pre-dating the ubiquitous cell phone, was to get the call for help rolling and to build in a confirmation it had been done.
Now days my default is make eye contact. If they don't have a cell phone and there are other bystanders someone will either offer their phone or make the call. 911 will likely keep them on the line.
True story. My first day living in Oregon we were driving to get lunch. Services were just ending at the local parish church.
We saw the elderly gentleman stagger into traffic one block ahead of us and drop like he'd been thwacked over the head. My husband pulled over and we both ran to him. I said the magic 'You- call 911!' to a specific bystander.
Swear to the diety of your choice, there are in fact people who, when directly addressed and told to call 911, while holding their cell phone in their hand will ask 'Are you sure we need 911?'. In one of the proudest moments of my life, I did not swear even a little bit while telling her yes, actually I was sure.
(Turned out he was diabetic and had skipped breakfast and the service had run long. He ended up spending a night in the hospital but was all right.)
Having been one of the first at an accident scene several times, I have to say that an EMT saying 'Okay, ma'am, we'll take it from here. Thank you.' is one of the sweetest sounds in the world.
Some blogs are like room parties. It might get a little rowdy, depending on the host's tolerance and the subjects under discussion, but I have a basic sense of general good will. If I disagree with someone we might wrangle but it's not going to come to threats (or worse).
Some blogs- okay, I am about to get a little hand-wavey and vague here. Some blogs feel very much like when I used to go to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. There was an impersonal feel to the noise and fun. And there was always a not-insignifigant number of folks who were there to do and say things they'd never dream of doing where anyone they knew back home would see them.
There's an advertising slogan "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas." That kind of nudge-nudge wink-wink, go ahead, nobody's looking thing that happens when people compartmentalize their actions based on accountablity can lead to some pretty unpleasant interactions.
And some blogs have comment threads that remind me of sketchy bars full of scary people. I keep quiet, I don't draw attention to myself, and I leave. It's not about the topics under discussion or where the blog falls on the political spectrum as far as I can tell. I don't trust the commenters to be civil and I don't trust the blog owner/s to do anything about it.
Active moderation and a community commitment to communication go a long way.
#70 Heather- I wish it were an urban legend, or a story of a FOAF. Sadly, it's neither. His wife is a member of my extended family.
There were witnesses.
And if someone had tried to tell that soldier before he went to Iraq that he would ever be capable of doing something like that to his adored little girl he wouldn't have believed them. Hell, I wouldn't have believed them.
I wish it surprised me.
I personally know a soldier who is serving in Iraq. While home on a leave he was trying to talk to his wife. Their three year old was following him, trying to talk to Daddy.
Without a word of warning he palmed the toddler's head like a basketball, shoved her away into a wall and shut the door in her face. When his wife demanded to know what he thought he was doing he gave her a very matter of fact reply.
"That's how you keep Them off the vehicles."
"That is your daughter!"
"It's all Them, one way or another."
This was a young man I thought I knew. A young man who was a loving father, devoted to his family... who could no longer tell who They are. It's all Them, one way or another.
He didn't get it when his wife tried to explain why this bothered her. He didn't understand why his toddler spent the rest of his leave eyeing him fearfully. Her skittishness made him resentful. His wife's request he consider seeing a counselor with her was dismissed because it would have a negative impact on his career.
After his leave was over his wife went to a family support meeting. When she talked about what had happened several other wives had similar stories.
I wish that video surprised me.
Ow. Soothing restful thoughts of no pain Real Soon Now wing their silent way to you.
My last migraine lasted for several days and finally got so bad I walked the two blocks to the ER to somewhat incoherently request they either medicate or kill me. They were horrifed I'd walked until I explained the dial tone on the phone was too loud for me to hold the handset long enough to call for a ride.
After a very nice doctor ('My mother had migraines, they're terrible.') shot me full of something they had a nurse drive me home. I slept like a dead thing.
Barbara, gets one or two migraines a year, and would do a self-decaptitation on Day 2 if handed a sharp enough instrument.
It's not just you, as you have been assured by a group of people only slightly larger than the population of Boise.
Some people really ARE just idiots. The fact they are writers makes them not one whit less idiotish. And you are entitled, no matter what you do for a living, to say so.
That you can say so with such style is just the cherry on top.
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