March 5th, 2006

Things continue to grind along here.

My father passed away in January after about six months of hospitals, rehab and adult foster care. It all started at the end of June last year when one of his artificial hip joints went bad and he fell down and couldn't get up. He was checking in with me everyday by email, but one day I noticed that I hadn't heard from him, so I called and got no answer.Daughter and I went over to his house and found him lying on the floor. He was conscious, but very weak. Called 911 and they took him to the hospital. Checked my email and realized I hadn't heard from him for a couple of day. So he could have been lying on the floor for a day or two, not just the few hours he told us about.

In July we (my brothers and I) had a hall-way conversation with Dr. Doom-and-Gloom who told us that the prognosis for my Dad wasn't good. If we went ahead with the surgery to fix his hip, he probably would not survive more than a year. Turns out he was right, but what were we going to do? Not get his hip fixed? Not sure that it did him any good in any case.

November was his best month. He was able to come to our house for Thanksgiving dinner. He was getting around with a walker, able to get in and out of our mini-van without assistance, though I would stand right next to him. Sometimes he would loose his balance for a minute and I didn't want him to fall. But come December, he started to decline and it was pretty much
downhill from there.

Should we have done anything differently? Well, maybe. Back in mid-June he had a stent put in to block open one of his arteries. I think this was done with an anesthetic, though I am not sure how much. When he first went in the Hospital they thought his hip had become dislocated, and they gave him a general anesthetic to make it easier to put the joint back together. That didn't work, so then they operated to repair the joint. That required another dose of general anesthetic.

After he had been in the hospital for a while I learned that general anesthesia is not your friend. It can take three or four days for young people to recover from general anesthesia. That's how long it takes for your body to flush all the drugs from your system. For older people it can take longer, weeks, or even months. It took my Dad about six weeks to come out of it.

So now I am dealing with his estate. I had a guy call me last weekend about my Dad's house in Cornelius. I intend to sell it, but I haven't listed it or advertised it or even put up a sign. Got a letter from someone else wanting to buy it for cash. The real estate market may not be as hot as it was, but it is still plenty warm. There are two developments in Hillsboro that I know of that are on tiny tracts of land that are bordered on one side by railroad tracks. They are crammed full of tiny houses. There is one street going into these places. You can't get back out unless you turn around in someone's driveway.

Work continues to be a sad comedy. The owner is getting back from two weeks in Europe. One week at the Olympics and one visiting potential customers. Meanwhile, the company didn't have enough cash to make payroll, so we had to get some cash from the owners wife so we can have real checks on Monday, as opposed to automatic deposit. Time to look for a new job? Or a sailboat?

Cargo Cult Business

I was talking to my brother last night and the term "Cargo Cult" came up. I
don't know why. But it sure rang a bell with me. I haven't heard this term
for thirty years. During WWII the US military sent Seabees into the South
Pacific to build wharves and airstrips to receive ships and planes. Natives
of the area saw this activity and then saw the ships and airplanes arrived
and concluded, incorrectly, that the building of the airstrips and wharves
caused the arrival of the ships and planes. So they set out to build their
own airstrips in hope of attracting aircraft with cargo.

Wikipedia has a good short description:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cargo_cult

Richard Feynman (famous physicist) has a commencement address on the
subject: http://www.physics.brocku.ca/etc/cargo_cult_science.html

This guy has some interesting things to say about Cargo Cults and business
http://www.coolth.com/cargo.htm

Some people want to make a Cargo Cult business, i.e. they want to make a
business by setting up all the trappings of a business without any
understanding of why that business works. Some businesses, like retail, you
might be able to do that. I don't think you can do that with a business like
ours.

a little idea - computer box with front access only

I want a computer case where everything could be accessed from the front. I always hated having to crawl around and behind and underneath in order to hook up all the cables to a new computer.

Everything would be accessed from the front. Power cord, switches, cable connections, air flow in and out, removable media. The sides, top, bottom and back would all be solid. A bunch of machines like this could be stacked up against a wall and you could still have access to everything.

For repairs, all of the internal components could be mounted to some kind of chassis that would slide out of the case making it possible to add or replace components.

You would want any switches, lights and/or drives with removable media mounted high up on the panel so that hanging cables would not interfere with them.

You could add a removable cover for the front and the machine could be it's own shipping case. Putting some shock absorbers between the internal chassis and the box it is housed in means you could put the cover on and check it as luggage on an airliner. This would eliminate all the hassle of having to keep a shipping container and its' attendant foam packaging on hand, and having to pack and unpack the computer every time it was moved. Could be a big advantage for LAN parties.

I am thinking that a box about one foot wide by one foot deep by about a foot and a half tall would do.

I think a computer box like this would be very popular with some groups. Maybe with everyone. Space is getting more constrained all the time. Setup and hookup would be easier and the time required would be greatly reduced with this box. Some people won't like having fans blowing at them, but some kind of half cover/baffle that would cover everything up but still allow airflow and cable access could make this kind of box acceptable for desktop use.

I would like a computer box like this. I have thought about building one, but I haven't found the time. Perhaps you might be interested in building such a box. If you every get around to it, I might even buy one.

If this idea interests you, please give me a call. I would be happy to talk about this idea, because right now, that is all it is, an idea.

Day off

Took the day off from work today. Went to the doctor Tuesday, the fifth time since Thanksgiving, trying to get my sinusitis under control. Started me on my third course of Prednisone. When I first started taking it, it didn't affect me much, mentally. But now it really jacks me up. Makes me an aggressive driver. Didn't like the way I was driving yesterday, so I decided I wouldn't drive today. Stayed home and took care of a couple of things that needed doing.

Anne got me some sheepskin seat covers for Christmas for the Sebring. So all jacked up on Prednisone, and nobody here to hear me cursing seemed like a good time to get them installed. Got one cover installed on the drivers seat. Took two hours. Pulled the seat out and carried it into the kitchen and set it on the cardboard covered kitchen table. Kind of like "War Of The Worlds" (I really liked the scene in the kitchen with the engine on a stand next to the kitchen table. Man had his priorities straight.)

It is a power seat so there were two cables connected to it. One for the motors and one for the seat belt. I like the Chrysler electrical connectors better than I like the Ford's. They both have a little clip that has to be pressed or pried before the connectors will come apart. They latches on the Ford are much more difficult to operate, and unless you are careful they will break off, and without the latches the connectors don't stay together very well. The latches on the Chrysler are easier to operate, but it can be a trick to figure just which part of the connector is the latch and whether it needs to be pushed or pulled. But I figured these out and got them apart. Removed the switch panel from the side of the seat and stretched the cover over the seat. I wasn't real happy about the way it fit, but after some tugging it seemed okay. Putting the switch panel back on meant driving the screws right through the side panel of the seat cover. So they are mine now, no taking them back at this point. Put the seat back in the car and start bolting it in. One bolt goes in really easy and then it won't tighten up. Pull all the bolts back out and lift up the seat to inspect. The clip nut for the bad bolt has slipped out of position so I wrestle it back to where it goes. All goes together smoothly.

When I get in the car this evening to go see Dad, something is wrong with the seat. Oh, Anne has been driving it and has moved the seat all katty-wampus. Takes seconds, seconds I say, to get it back to somewhere where it should be. Never does seem to be right. I'll sort it out.

James Bond

My life is becoming a James Bond movie...

I took Dad to the eye doctor this morning. Farthest he's had to walk since he got back on his feet. Drove to the doctor's office, Dad used the walker to walk into the building and down the hall to the exam room. It was clear in the back. He was moving slowly and I was following close behind in case he lost his balance. The exam room was clear in the back, so it took a long time to get there. I am doing this very slow swing step, trying to see if I can move smoothly and continuously at this slow rate, and I realize I have seen this in a movie somewhere...

It was an early James Bond film that was set in New Orleans. There was a funeral procession coming down the street, band was playing, ladies were wailing, and they were all moving very slowly, very similar to what I was doing moving down the hall.

Yesterday they were hooting and hollering up at the front of the office so I went to investigate. They were laughing at some clips from "You're the man now, dog" website. Seems there was an outtake from "Finding Forester" where Sean Connery points at his black co-star, and says "You're the man now, dog", so some guy used the phrase to found a web site. Their version of the Llama Song doesn't have the original images, a very poor copy it is. The original can be found here: http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/llama.php

Previously Dad had been using two kinds of eye drops to control the pressure in his eye. The doctor says they do the same thing but work through different mechanisms. Dad has only been using Timolol for about a week, but the doctor says the pressure in his eye is fine. We only got the Timolol, because Dad mentioned that his vision was getting worse. Doctor asked him to
come back in four months for a more thorough exam. Dad's vision isn't great, but he claims he can read newsprint with his reading glasses. I don't know if that is true, but it might be.

I'm talking to some of guys at work today and Neil, our accountant, comes up and starts doing this side step thing. I'm not quite sure what it's about but it looks just like Odd Job from Goldfinger. There is the fight scene at the end of the movie where Mr. Bond and Mr. Job are locked inside Fort Knox with all the gold and the nuclear bomb. Odd Job is beating the tar out of James until James picks up Mr. Odd's hat. All of sudden Odd Job's demeanor changes. Before he was a contemptuous bully, now he is wary, stepping very carefully, and that is exactly what Neil looked like.

Sales

I for one like Budweiser, or at least I did before I lost my taste for alcohol. These days I drink a shot of cheap white wine in a full glass of water. I used to drink micro-brews but it gave me terrible gas (blue smoke paint peelers, as an acquaintance in Phoenix termed it).

There was a parable circulating back in the 90's, maybe in the 80's, that said if you wanted to succeed in business, you had to be like a duck: all calm and serenity above the water (where it shows), but paddling furiously beneath the surface. I thought it was a stupid idea. I still think it is a stupid idea, but now I am beginning to understand.

Communicating with people can be difficult and time consuming, especially if they are you superiors. If people think their status is higher than yours, then they don't have to listen to you, you have to listen to them. They may want to tell you a long story, or just deliver terse comments. If they are polite, they may listen to you for a short while, or they may ignore you completely. They are not going to sit patiently while you go on and on about something that bores them, and anything you say will be boring because you are not as important as they are.

So if you are trying to get your superiors to do something, like approve your project, it is going to be very time consuming and tedious on your part. You will have to listen to them drone on as long as they like, and pitch your project whenever you get a chance. If their status, real or imagined, is much higher than yours, you will get maybe a minute to speak for every hour you spend with them. So if may take weeks to get your idea across, and then it will probably get rejected because of something their girlfriend/boyfriend said over the weekend.

Roman, Saturday

Anne and I took Roman for a ride in the van today. All that fuss about technique for loading him in the car was for naught. They got Elfinish (a 95 pound Ethiopian woman) to help me, and she had never loaded anybody into a car before. It was a bit of a struggle, but we managed. Using the van made it a little easier because there was room for her inside so she could pull while I pushed. Drove over to Cornelius, checked the house, picked up the trash in the yard (there are always a few small pieces of trash in the yard. The wind blows it in), picked up his mail, his address books and a pair of shoes. Stopped by two foster care houses. The woman at one of the houses came out and talked to him. Took him to Burger King for a Whopper Junior. He called Uncle Lee from the parking lot using Anne's cell phone (free long distance). He looked up the number in his address book and I dialed it. Took him back to Rehab.

I stopped by rehab on Thursday and talked to the occupational therapist about Roman. She said he was the most motivated she had seen. The have a set of parallel bars, like railings, about 12 feet long. She said he had managed to walk the length three times, which is a big improvement for him.

He is still a long way from living on his own, but he might be walking again in a few months.

If I had known back in July what I know now, I would have voted against using a general anesthetic when they tried to relocate his hip joint.

He has a roommate who has the same doctor (Kuklinski). This guy is wearing this frame on his shoulders that holds his head in place. He told me today that they are planing on fusing 6 (or was it 8?) vertebrae. He was supposed to have an operation yesterday, but they postponed it two weeks. Too much risk of loss of life. He is much younger that Dad, might be 60 something.