3 May 08

Crap, where'd April go? My soft office job is finished, and I started back on my crew this week. No problem with that, but midnight shift starts tomorrow. No fun.

I used to give blood regularly, but then I started failing the iron tests. I never thought much of it, always blamed the night shift. But I was off the night shift for 11 months, and I still failed the iron test. So I've had a few blood tests now, and the nasty stuff has been ruled out. This week I got to go in for a boroscope, if you know what I mean. The doctors were concerned that maybe my digestive system isn't absorbing iron properly, so they wanted to have a peek.

So I took the afternoon off work, and went down to the Victoria General Hospital. We got off to a bad start, I thought, in a couple of ways. First, you have to have someone pick you up, because you'll presumably be doped up after the poking. I had dropped my car at a mall, with the idea that my friend could just drop me there, and I'd drive myself home.

Well, I talked to the admitting clerk, and she said she had the same procedure a few weeks ago, and was out of it for a full day. That didn't sound good at all. The next thing was the indignity of the cretin hospital gown. I was left for an hour and a half in the stupid thing until my turn came.

The inspection went pretty well. The upper end wasn't too bad. I had to hold a small plastic disc in my mouth, and the tube was inserted through that, into the stomach. I don't know how long it took, but it didn't seem very long. The lower end was a bit more uncomfortable, but not bad. I remember the nurse saying I was doing well, over and over, and shortly after that, I either passed out or fell asleep.

I woke up in my cubicle, none the worse for wear. My friend Liz picked me up, and dropped me at the mall, where I finally got to eat, having fasted for over a day. After supper and a bit of wandering around, I felt well enough to drive home.

The results of the poking are apparently that I'm okay. So we still don't know why my iron is low. My best guess was, and is still, my lousy diet.

Today I flew on an exercise. I took my first "unescorted" trip on the Maule. It's similar to a Cessna 172, with enough differences to screw you up if you're not watching. I like the airplane, but it doesn't really offer much of an advantage over a 172. A bit faster, a bit more weight, but that's it. It is, however, new, with only 70 hours on the airframe, and it has an autopilot.

One of these days, I'm going to post my trip report from my whirlwind Italy tour in March. I still have to write up one day's activities, but I'll do it soon. I say.