We leave at first light

The car is packed, save for the Thermos bottles of coffee and our toothbrushes. We'll leave at 4:30. When Woody was a boy, the trip to PEI would take three days. Now, anything over 12 hours for the 650 mile trek is regarded as dawdling.

We have one recorded book, David McCullough's 1776, and my iPod for some music. The sandwiches are packed (pb&j). We have apple and raisins for snacks and water. We plan to stop no more than three times - the first rest area on the Maine Turnpike, at the Border to fill up on American petrol, and in Sussex NB.

Did you know that USB key chain drives can withstand a washer cycle?

RoasterBoy in the wilderness

This is the first RoasterBoy post from the camp. The telephone installer completed his work a few minutes ago and left behind a copper wire that connects us to the great net.

Progress sometimes comes unexpectedly on the shoulders of a somewhat unrelated event. For example, the 19th-century road graders ledt to smooth roads and allowed for reliable mail service that led to mail-order services such as Sears and Roebucks. This camp received its electrical service as a reseulf to the New Deal's Rural Electrification project. Those poles made it affordable for us to install a telephone. Our thanks to FDR, then, for this connection.

It's warm and sticky and there's barely a breeze. I might have time for a quick swim before leave to I check in my father and then go back home. He seems to be doing ok. I'll change the bandages on his arm. He's to go to doctor's office to have them changed on Thursday.

Postings will be infrequent, if at all, for the next few days. We're going to PEI to visit with Woody and Marian and Marley. We hope to see our friends, Pete and Mildred, on the way home. I may be online for a bit while I do some work on MRM's computer.

And that's why we call them patients

It was a step he'd made many thousands of times, from the boathouse to the ground. This time, though, with the ground softened by so much rain, he didn't slip so much as he lost his balance. He fell backwards, between the boathouse and the little stone wall at the back of the flowerbed. Naturally, I was most concerned when my father hit his head, but that turned out to be a lesser bruise. He said his arm was uncomfortable. He'd hit that against the stones, too.

We went up to the camp and cut away the sleeve of his sweatshirt to reveal an arm that looked like it had met up with a dull and determined potato peeler. He agreed that a doctor should see it. He wanted, however, to have coffee first. And we did. So, 20 minutes later, we drove to one of the community hospitals in the area.

(The insurance companies have us pretty well trained. We don't ask ourselves, "What's the nearest hospital?" We ask, "What's the nearest hospital that's a member of my insurance plan?")

The medical staff was pleasant, professional, never giving the impression that they were terribly understaffed. The waiting room was full to overflowing during the time that we were there. There was only one doctor in the ER. The triage nurse examined my father as soon as we arrived and put some bandages on the wounds. It would two hours before we would get inside the ER. Then, treatment was thorough, but slow, another three hours. He received a tetanus shot which lasts for another 5-10 years. It wouldn't surprise me if he got another one then.

So, he's home now with no further treatment other that change the dressings daily and respect the law of gravity. I'll check in with him by phone today and in person tomorrow.

I'm glad that we went, but if we knew that it was going to take five hours, we probably wouldn't have gone.