I have to be honest, I’m really fortunate with the variety of patients I encounter. Whether it be former child television stars turned undomiciled moguls, planet devourers, or senior citizen ninjas… my job can be really interesting because of the people.

At times.

Every now and then though, there comes a patient that is both interesting and challenging to provide a service for. Usually it’s because of their personality or perhaps some sort of unique circumstance… but rarely is it for both those reasons. When things like that happen it can equate to our version of the perfect storm… where there we are in the eye, thinking we’re gonna make it… and then WHAM! That huge wave rolls over us and sets us back a few feet.

Sometimes… that wave has treads. Such is the case of a new patient we had yesterday, who I will call The General. The General is really nice enough, commanding an army of caretakers efficiently, directing with a flair which way to lift, prop, fluff, and cross to make their transport as comfortable as possible. The General‘s personality would be enough to make the experience interesting… but it’s what The General drives that makes the experience challenging…

Whoever thought it was good to give patients Sherman Tanks instead of Jazzy scooters needs to have their head examined. Really. Do you know how hard it is to get one of those into the back of an ambulance? Even with ramps, modifications, and some customization that I’m still not sure is legal… it was as simple as square object going into a round hole. Just not gonna happen after 45 minutes of trying.

After unsuccessfully getting yesterday’s transport off the ground, I asked The General if maybe they would want to drive over to the facility themselves. “I’ll drag race you if you want,” he replied with a smile as I accepted defeat and returned him to the fortress. I bet he would have… but The General would still need a driver’s license to head into the street… and he’s at least 3 years shy of that.

It’s okay though. This morning, like Douglas MacArthur, I will return to my own personal Phillipiness. I will take The General and his tank and I’ll be making it happen.

Nothing is impossible.

Not even moving a Sherman tank from one borough to another.

Impossible just takes a little longer.

Or in this case… 24 hours and a 55 gallon drum of Crisco.

Hoorah!

It was nine years ago today that I learned how to wrap a burrito and my life changed forever for the better…

… and my hair color changed for the whiter… for which I have no regrets.

Happy birthday buddy.

Miss you.

Love you.

So yesterday, while the rest of the mid-Atlantic region was pummeled by both snow and tea, Poppy and I welcomed the newest addition to our family…

She is quite an energetic and rambunctious 3 month old kitty! She also apparently has a foot fetish…

And she also apparently has some rhythymn since she was dancing with her Woofa Dog all night long…

Of course you probably are wondering what we’ve named her… and for this we’ve gone sort of hippie in a 21st Century blogger kinda way… because her name is…

Her meowing however does not appear to be limited to 140 characters.

Of this, I assure you…

On a completely separate note I would like to take this opportunity to wish my father a happy birthday. He’s turning the whopping 67 today… and will be celebrating it by what he has spent all those years obsessed with… football and 10 feet of cold cuts on bread.

Obviously it must also be Super Sunday.

Go Budweiser!