ACAB… seriously?

ACAB… seriously?

I have seen sadness.

Not all stories can be lighthearted and have storybook endings… I have seen great human suffering. My last assignment as a police officer was riding motorcycles; it is the most fun you can have as a cop. However, there is a downside. Motor officers investigate fatal traffic collisions. Those investigations are serious and detailed reports of what happened to cause a collision and how that collision contributed to someone being killed. The District Attorney may want to prosecute the person responsible for the collision for homicide, and the prosecutor will need a thorough investigation to proceed.

It’s about 8 pm on a cool October evening. The call came to me at home… a crash with multiple fatalities. I reported to the station then drove with another motor officer to the scene. Horrific. Six young people crammed into an older Honda… two had been transported to the hospital but four dead were still in the car. The deceased included a 23-year-old male, two 19-year-old males, and a 16-year-old girl. Only minutes before the collision, they had been drinking… beer and tequila.

During their impromptu party in a nearby cul-de-sac, the 19-year-old driver received a call from his girlfriend who was also the mother of his child. They argued about him seeing another young woman. He got angry, hung up, and told everyone to get into the car. They did.

The car had three different makes of tires and different wheels. The driver accelerated down a long straightaway. Traveling more than 70 mph, he lost control and the Honda struck a dump truck. Four dead instantly. One teen male survived with serious head injuries. The other survivor was an 18-year-old girl. She was small in stature. Her sister, the 16-year-old who died in the crash, was a physically much larger person. The younger, larger girl was sitting on her 18-year-old sister’s lap in the middle of the rear seat at the moment of impact. The teen boy on the 18-year-old’s left sustained debilitating head injuries. The oldest male of the group was seated on her right at the point where the Honda struck the dump truck. His head injuries were even greater. He died instantly. Sad. The larger 16-year-old girl actually functioned as a human shield for her smaller sister. The first officer to respond… a rookie… found the gruesome scene. The 18-year-old girl was the only conscious person in the car. She was hysterical because she was trapped and unable to move with her dead sister on top of her. All the rookie could do was talk to her soothingly until more help arrived.

I looked into the Honda. I could see that the 23-year-old with the grisly skull damage bore the brunt of the tremendous force of the collision. But the 16-year-old girl on the backseat and the two 19-year-old males in the front seats looked peaceful… almost as if they were sleeping. Then I noticed the boys in the front seats had broken limbs. The crash was violent and did its work quickly. The coroner arrived and removed the victims. The motor officers including myself continued processing the scene. This report would not be used in a prosecution.

Later, I interviewed the 18-year-old girl. She was guarded and uncomfortable because she thought she would get in trouble if she admitted she had been drinking. I told her that she was not in trouble with the police… I just needed to know what happened before the Honda struck the dump truck. She mentioned the phone call to the driver and that he appeared to be angry. I asked if he was using the phone while driving. No. I really wanted to know where the driver bought the beer and tequila. The 18-year-old relaxed a bit. She didn’t know where he obtained the alcohol; it was already in the car when he picked her up.

While at the station the next day, the sister of the 23-year-old who died due to extensive head trauma came to see me. She was the spokesperson for the family. I told her that I was very sorry for her loss. She said that she wanted to see her brother. She was also in her mid-twenties and close to her brother. I paused then said it might not be a good idea to see him because he will not look like the brother she knows. She was determined, so I made arrangements for her to see him. About a week later, she called and thanked me for trying to dissuade her because he did not look the same. I told her that she can always remember him and the good times everyone enjoyed when they were with him.

Later that same week, the driver’s family came to the station to look at the impounded Honda. Just before impact, the driver tried to gain control of the car but overcorrected causing the Honda to turn hard left almost 180 degrees. It was still traveling at a high rate of speed when it struck the parked dump truck… no skid marks. The family stared at the mangled wreckage without speaking. The patriarch… moving slowly with age… shoulders rolled forward from a life of hard work… started to remove tools from the Honda’s trunk. I thought… wait, this car is still part of our investigation. The family cannot just take things out of the car. Then I thought… the tools would cost a lot to replace… money the family probably didn’t have. I stood by silently while he gathered the tools.

A call came in from the other deceased 19-year-old’s family. They needed money for funeral expenses and wondered if there was an insurance company involved so they could file a claim for burial costs. No… there was no insurance.

My involvement with the families of the four tragically dead young people took a toll on me. It was at that point I started to think about a career change. Seven months later, I left police work to teach US History to high school juniors. However, I would see more traffic carnage before my first day in the classroom. Some researchers believe all police officers suffer some level of post traumatic stress due to the demands and experiences on the job. They’re probably right.

Navy pilots are cocky…

Navy pilots are cocky…

Navy pilots are cocky. Tom Cruise got it right.

I flew P-3s in the Navy. The P-3 Orion flew primarily anti-submarine and surveillance missions. About 40 years ago, my squadron would send planes to Adak, Alaska to fly missions just off the Soviet coast. US flights conducted close to non-allied land masses were routinely coordinated through the Peacetime Aerial Reconnaissance Program (PARPRO). We would fly right up to an imaginary line which was offset by a couple of miles from the real “do not cross or else” line which kept us from violating sovereign Soviet airspace. It was crazy in those days… Navy, Air Force, Russian MiGs and Bears flying all around… lots of intercepts… plus surface ships lighting up fire control radars. It was intense. Quite a contrast to only 30 years ago when I flew off the Russian coast. My plane was the only military aircraft in the area that day. The Russians made one sweep with their air defense radar system as if to confirm… Oh, yeah. One Amerikanski P-3. No big deal. That’s all they could do. They didn’t have enough rubles to sustain the intense military coastal operations of the early 1980s.

Also, about 30 years ago, while flying as a Patrol Plane Commander with a reserve squadron out of Okinawa, my crew was tasked with flying off the North Korean coast. It was another PARPRO mission, and the Air Force would be tracking our flight profile. Most of this mission was flown at night. The North Koreans were going to test a rocket that could give them the capability to hit Japanese cities. My task was to fly just off the North Korean coast and monitor their naval surface ships. Those ships were zig zagging under the night cloud cover and waiting to race out into the Sea of Japan to recover the rocket. The North Koreans had an advantage. They knew beforehand where the rocket was supposed to splash down, but they were being coy. The North Korean ships were using the overcast to move close to the imaginary line they knew we would not cross. Plus, they were maneuvering between fishing boats to mask their movements. Bad news for them… the radar gear we had on board this P-3 cut through the clouds and fog to allow us to monitor every course change. It was like watching black and white TV. We could see them, but they didn’t know we could see them.

It was a long flight and the plane tasked to relief us would be launched out of Northern Japan… except that plane went hard down in preflight. I received orders to extend on station… in other words, keep flying. The back up to the relief plane went hard down, too. I received a new message… you guessed it… extend on station. A back up plane to the back up plane was finally launched. New orders… PLE. Keep flying to the Prudent Limit of Endurance, which really meant keep flying until there is only enough fuel to make it back to Okinawa. I radioed the operations officer in Okinawa with an updated time for when I planned to start my return flight to base. His response… can you stay longer?

I huddled up with my flight engineer and determined we could stay longer if we diverted and stopped for fuel on the way to Okinawa. I relayed an updated time for starting my return transit and filed a flight plan for an en route stop to add more fuel to my plane. Finally, the relief plane was getting close. We swapped info with the relief crew and set a course for our pit stop at Iwakuni. It was now daylight and the weather was beautiful. We got the extra fuel and headed back to Okinawa.

We landed. It had been a long, long day that started after dinner the night before. Remember that operations officer in Okinawa? We were in the same squadron but he had been recently promoted to commander so he outranked me. However, he was not a pilot and he didn’t really understand what calls to extend on station and PLE really meant. He shows up on my plane and starts chastising me. According to him, I’m in a heap of trouble because my mission briefing did not include a stop at Iwakuni. The newly minted commander reminded me the Air Force had been monitoring my flight and they lost track of my plane when I stopped for fuel… and USAF General Schmuckatelli wants answers… now!

OK. Here’s my answer… the operations officer directed me to extend on station, PLE then directed me to stay longer. I updated every flight extension with revised return times, and the last update included the stop in Iwakuni. If the Air Force wanted to know the location of my plane, all they had to do was contact Air Traffic Control. I added, “You can tell General Schmuckatelli what I just said or I will… after a beer or two with my crew. The operations officer turned and walked away. Nothing else was said. Yes, Navy pilots are cocky.

P.S. The North Koreans never launched that rocket.

Medical nightmare…

Medical nightmare…

Maybe my medical nightmare of the last year is over. Maybe. Mom passed away just before COVID hit. The emotionally draining stress was much more wearisome than physically caring for her. She was hospitalized four times in eight months. Her heart was strong but that last stay in the hospital was complicated by a lung problem, and that was too much for her. I put off grieving… that’s not a good idea… then my body gave out. The physical caught up and passed the emotional. First, a serious case of the flu. I usually just tough out colds and the occasional flu or go with over-the-counter meds… not this time. The crazy thing was… I could not see a doctor. I mean actually “see” a doctor. Due to COVID, only video consultations were allowed. The flu was quickly followed by a sinus infection and burst eardrum… more video visits. Then, I suffered an IT band failure. I didn’t know what an IT band was until it failed. The large tendon running down my right thigh was on FIRE! I’m not joking. The pain was immeasurably worse than gout. I literally could not walk. I would hold onto a piece of furniture while putting weight on my “good” foot… reach for more furniture then shift my weight. Rinse and repeat. That lasted for days. More video visits… my doctor prescribed opiates. They didn’t work. The pain eventually subsided but I had to use a hiking stick for balance and support while walking for more than a week.

When COVID protocols relaxed, I actually saw my doctor. She told me that I needed a check-up. It was not a suggestion. My thyroid was swollen (again), I had multiple hernias, and I had AFib something fierce.

While I was getting diagnosed and treated for my thyroid and cardio issues, three gout flares showed up and it was back to the hiking stick. In a ten-month period, I was sedated in the hospital for a colonoscopy (no polyps… yay!) and two interventional radiology biopsies. I was sedated five more times with a general anesthetic during that same period. Once for surgery to remove the left side of my thyroid along with a very large malignant tumor and four more times for cardioversions.

The left half of my thyroid is gone, but with any luck, it won’t be necessary to surgically remove the right half. However, the cardio problem… AFib… has been worrisome. I am in AFib 100% of the time, but I’m asymptomatic. I have no sensations like chest pains or palpitations that my heart is beating irregularly. During the first cardioversion attempt… a procedure where a cardiologist attempts to electrically shock your heart back into rhythm… a clot was found in my heart. That shuts down the procedure. I received stronger doses of anticoagulants prior to the second cardioversion attempt. It’s rare when such meds don’t dissolve a clot, but that’s what happened to me. The clot was still there. More anticoagulant therapy in preparation for a third attempt… the clot was still there and the procedure was stopped.

Today, May 25, 2021, was the fourth attempt, I needed prayers and got them. I had friends tell me they were praying for me, and a couple of prayer groups… folks I did not know… were praying, too. Clots, of course, are dangerous but when a cardiologist finds one during a cardioversion, he or she will stop the procedure. The concern is that the electrical shock will break the clot free and cause a stroke. This time, no clot… the shock worked and my AFib was gone. Halleluiah! Prayer works. I realize the AFib can return but knowing a follow up cardioversion can hopefully make it go away is comforting.

I had the same team of wonderful nurses for most of the cardioversions and of course the same cardiologist… that was comforting, too. I had a post-procedure follow up visit five weeks later to check if my AFib was gone for good. This all sounds pretty serious… and it is… but I had the advantage of having a nurse at home… my wife. For the past six months she has tended to my needs. This was during the worst of the COVID lockdown, but she was there and that made all the difference. When I started to feel better, Debbie made me start walking with her… every day. She gave me the best medicine for my ailments… big doses of caring.

The AFib came back. For the month prior to my fifth and last cardioversion, I have been taking a shot of olive oil every day. Olive oil is a natural blood thinner. Did it help? I don’t know, but the AFib stopped. So, it looks like after a year of treatment, my thyroid and heart problems are on the mend. Oh, yeah… those three hernias that needed repairing? They’ll have to wait until next year.

Prayer works. I am a believer. It helped to get me through my medical nightmare.

Here is the postscript added since I first penned this story… it looks like the medical nightmare was not quite over after the left side of my thyroid was removed. I ultimately had two heart surgeries in late 2021 to finally cure my AFib. That prayer was answered. Abdominal surgery followed in the spring of 2022… another success. Those issues are resolved. Then, a renal tumor was discovered when I had a chest scan in early 2023… that led to my left kidney and the large tumor on that kidney being surgically removed. Shortly after the kidney surgery, cancer was found on the right side of my thyroid. My surgeon scheduled surgery to remove the rest of my thyroid and that tumor in July 2023. That will be six surgeries in just under two and half years. Bitter or angry? No. Scared? Well, yes… but without a doubt, prayer has been my companion each and every time I needed surgery. It’s always part of my pre-op prep. Prayer works.