Red Rock Canyon

When I got back from our vacation in Las Vegas, I actually managed to post some photos on line. I set them up as an open pool under my administration. Lo and behold, another person, with my permission, has added to the pool. The collection is now up to 22 photos. You can see it here.

This shared stuff is kind of nice. Try viewing it as a slide show (upper right corner).

The Story of O(uch)

Some kid I know claims it was a bar fight, but that's not really the way it happened. I really was on my way into the little white church by the river — OK, for a rehearsal with my trombone — when I slipped on ice and went down hard. I admit to chatting with friends instead of watching where I was going. They were nice enough to get me back on my feet and even retrieved my hat and horn bag. Things didn't really start to hurt until I was moving.

Twenty minutes later I had called my favorite bear and asked for ice and a bandage. Bless her heart, she brought them and I finished the rehearsal with my left wrist wrapped. Then she took me to the ER.

There I met the new digital x-ray machine up close. The ER doc announced no break and "gave" me a splint for the wrist. It's very hard to play the trombone with one's left wrist encased in armor, but I got through the performance on Sunday. Much swelling and a fair amount of pain, but at least it wasn't broken. Except ...

After the doc came the radiologist, who found the break in the triquetral bone, shown here. Alas, the hospital notified me by letter, so I went nine days before I found out. Ugh.

Follow up with my doc. More x-rays. A different splint.

The next day, phone call. Wrong splint. A consultation with the orthopedist saying cast and my guy saying mobility led to a custom made plastic splint which seems to meet both needs. The process of making the splint was fascinating, but must await another day to tell.

I don't think these guys get the message that these things cost money and that insurance companies stop paying after a while. That leaves me with two splints in the bank and one on the wrist, 24/7 for month. With summer on the way. And mosquitos.

Sillliness

If I write about it, maybe the annoyance will go away.

Fairest of the fair took my mother to the hospital this morning for a scheduled test at 7:00 am. At 8:15, I went by to pick her up, asking at the information desk for directions to where that test was conducted. The path led to the second floor, where a fellow poring over an EKG said, "No, not here. Try radiology down stairs", with directions. Nice, helpful guy. At radiology I provided her name, the name of the test, said I was there to pick her up, and asked for information about her location. I was told, "I can't release any information. Wait in that room."

Uh, OK, and I waited. Then I waited. Eventually my cell phone rang. Bad reception, but it could only be one source. I called back and found out where my mother was REALLY waiting -- and had been for 30 minutes before I got there. We were in different waiting rooms, different departments, 100 yards apart, and probably would be there still if not for the chance call.

Yes, I understand about HIPAA regulations, privacy concerns, and the overpowering need for secrecy in today's world, but isn't there some limit on how stupidly that can be carried out? Must people be so overwhelmed with fear of lawsuits, fear of regulations, and near total lack of reason that they can't find a way to convey that the test is down the hall, or to find out where the patient is?

Are we really all afraid, or are we just too bored or too self-centered to do a reasonable job of interacting with the public?

Do you suppose the annoyance will go away, or must I write to the hospital, providing the daily amusement for administration?

Bah. Humbug!

Break time

Concert week, day one. I'm on break between two sessions. Rehearsals today on the tenor trombone, and a workout it was. Eight or so bones in a room, half the time with a trap set in the middle. Looks like we are playing some AC/DC (Back in Black), a funk rock thing, and a bossa nova/swing version of Fly Me to the Moon. Believe it or not, that's for next Sunday.

Between now and then the Brass Choir is playing in a recital as accompaniment to a trumpet concerto, Jojoe is playing a bass trombone recital, the community band is rehearsing for a later concert, there is a master class (Friday) and another rehearsal. Plus a lesson and a couple of classes. Retirement is soooo nice. Just lie back and enjoy the ... snowfall.