Ear's to You

Today in first aid training we moved on to WOUNDS. I had to play victim in a couple of scenarios, and in the first, I was asked to play an auto mechanic who had somehow managed to cut off the top half of one of his ears.

So I improvised, moaning and groaning, one hand clapped to my ear. The "rescuer" - a fellow student who doesn't know the nature of the scenario - rushed in and followed the steps she'd learned.

"Hi, I'm Theresa, I'm a Medic First Aid and I can help you. Are you all right? What happened?"

I struggled to think of a plausible answer to her question. After all, a person delivering first aid should know what happened in order to react properly.

"I CUT OFF MY EAR! This is what happens when you run with scissors."

Best I could do on the spur of the moment. Anyway, she applied dressings, saved the top half of my ear, and called 911. SAVED!

Sadly, I found out that hands-on defibrillator training will have to wait until next year. But at least I know enough to operate one of the idiot-proof models if I have to. ZAP!

Had I But Known

Perhaps tomorrow I'll finally be able to help Sean cope with this sort of unfortunate accident. 

First Aid Training: Day One

Today at first aid training, I learned the ABCs of emergency response: Airway, Breathing, Circulation. Should some unfortunate soul clutch his heart and shriek "I'm having chest pains!" before blacking out at my feet, I'll know just what to do! I hope. Here's how I remember the procedure:

***THIS IS NOT MEDICAL ADVICE, MERELY MY OWN ATTEMPT TO SEE HOW MUCH INFORMATION I'VE PROPERLY ABSORBED...DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME***

First, I'll check the scene to see if there are any immediate hazards, seen or unseen: traffic, downed power lines, explosions, supervillains, poison gas, etc. Then I'll kneel beside the victim and say,

"Hello! My name is Earl. I'm just trying to be a better person..."

Gah, sorry. Wrong scenario.

"Hello! My name is Earl. I have first aid training. Are you okay?"

I'll prod the victim on the shoulder to test responsiveness. If the victim doesn't respond, this implies consent to begin first aid.

First, I'll call 911, or direct the nearest bystander to do so thusly:

"Call 911! Do you understand me? Will you come back when you've called?"

If the bystander understands, I'll slip on my sterile gloves on and continue to the ABCs.

First, I'll make sure that the airway is clear, by tilting the head back and lifting the jaw so that the victim's relaxed tongue isn't blocking his airway. (If there's a chance of spinal injury, I'll perform the chin lift ONLY.) I'll check the victim's mouth to see if there's anything blocking the airway.

Good Lord! A huge wad of bubblegum wrapped around a Dr. Julian Bashir action figure! I'll fork it out with my fingers and roll the victim toward me so that gravity will help any remaining debris or fluids drain out.

Next, check B for breathing. After rolling the victim back onto his back, I lower my head to the victim's face, listening for the sounds of respiration, feeling for breath on my cheek. GREAT KRYPTON! Nil breathing! Two quick rescue breaths are in order. I dig my sterile shield with one-way valve out of my pocket, tilt the head back by the chin, and plug the victim's nostrils with peanuts...I mean, my fingers. I blow through the valve and into the hapless sap's mouth for two full seconds, watching to see if the chest rises. It does. I wait a beat and blow again. Fwoosh!

Now check for C, circulation. Fingers pressed to the carotid artery, I check for a pulse. HOLY SMASHAMOLEY! NO PULSE! Wetting my pants, I realize I'm gonna have to perform CPR.

First, find the heart. With one finger, trace along the victim's abdomen to find the bottom of the sternum. Use that position as a pointer and place the other hand "above" it, toward the victim's head. Make sure the heel of the hand is over the heart, and start pumping: one thousand one, one thousand two...fifteen seconds, back to the head for another two breaths, alternate between breathing and pumping for one minute, then reassess whether the victim has started to breathe again.

He is! Hooray.

I also learned how to save a severed limb, how to hold someone's guts in, and how to ensure that a pencil embedded in the eyeball will do as little damage as possible. All in all, a pretty gory day.

As I anticipated, I had to stifle my laughter at the instructional videos. The acting is so awful, the situations so contrived that it's really hard not to guffaw. In the first segment, a homeowner climbs to the very tippy top of a rickety stepladder, overextends himself and crashes to the ground with an unconvincing "AIIIEEEEunf!" In another, a little girl is hit in the leg with a rock flung from a lawnmower blade, and the blood spurts through her clutching fingers. Pretty awful, I know, but the music, the lighting, the editing and direction all conspire to make the scene humourous instead of ominous. They've gotta work on that.

But the biggest news is that tomorrow they teach us how to use...

THE DEFIBRILLATOR!!!!!! BZZZZZZZZZZZZTTT!!!! CLEAR!!!!!

The photo above captures the look on Sylvia's face when I told her this. 

MEDIC!

Tomorrow and Wednesday I'll be taking First Aid training at the Legislature. My employer - that is to say, the government - is footing the bill, and it seemed like a golden opportunity to learn some important skills.

So, faithful readers, no running with scissors until Friday. By then, I should have some kind of fancy certificate.

Another banner possibility

Another possible banner

New Banner (If I Can Make it Work)

If I can make it work, here's a new banner I may use. Anything to get away from the standard templates...

EDIT: Huh, I don't know why it turned orange...

Experimenting

I'll be playing with my blog today to see if I can personalize it a little. If this works, there should be a video in this post, and a countdown clock near the bottom of the right hand column...

[EDIT - I've taken out the video, since the ActiveX control was causing some of my visitors' browswers to crash.]

My Excuses for Not Blogging More Often

Dental appointment.




Sunburned during press gallery golf tournament.




Construction projects around the home.




Unexpected journeys backward in time.




Taking goofy photos of Sylvia.




Taking goofy photos in general.




And now for some real content. Of a sort. Can you imagine what Sylvia might be doing in this perplexing photograph? Enter YOUR guess in the comment field!

Sean of the Dead

As an amateur photographer, I try to take every opportunity to advance my art. Here are a few photos Sean and I took this weekend, all following a common theme.

Wisteria Hysteria

In an email sent some months ago to a few of my friends, I described the lunacy of "The Negative-Crisis on Earths One-Two!" from JLA #56, September, 1967. Now, thanks to the wonders of the blogosphere, here's an updated missive, with illustrations!

A "Negative Crisis" has infected several superheroes - some from Earth-1, some from Earth-2 - with "negative radiation," causing them to run berzerk. The solution to such an unusual crisis?

Pages of senseless violence, of course.

Here, the Earth-2 Hawkman and the Earth-1 Green Arrow are in a battle with a mind-controlled Earth-1 Flash.


...explosi-arrows??


How chu doin', mang?

The mighty Flash, brought down with nothing more than an explosi-arrow (?!) and a few flower petals. And yet, this weakness isn't listed on his DC Heroes RPG character sheet.

Later, Mr. Terrific and Wildcat, both of Earth-2, must battle the possessed Green Lantern of Earth-1. The following exchange occurs just as Green Lantern whaps Wildcat and Mr. Terrific around with some giant tables (!) constructed with his power ring, a super-weapon that creates whatever Green Lantern can imagine out of thin air:




Mr. Terrific's abdominal plate is yellow. Why not use it as a sheild?




Sergio Leone's "A Fistful of Flowers," coming to a theatre near you.





Sour apples indeed

Parents, tired of your kids? Send them to Camp Green Lantern for the summer!




Almost as bad as Batman incapacitating himself by stepping on a pebble, but not quite.




Oh, the humanity. Beating an unconscious man with sticks. Comic books - they're not just for kids!




Livin' in a BOX...livin' in a wooden box...

This is how super-heroes treat their friends - by mercilessly beating them with sticks. Now, imagine how they treat their foes, and you can see why, in the real world, the ACLU would probably disapprove of costumed vigilantes.

They Are Not Barbies

I'm Clark Kent!


No! I'm Superman!

The other day I picked up the coolest action figure ever - a Clark Kent representation that changes into Superman! I've wanted a Clark Kent figure for ages, but this is even better.

Sylvia calls my action figures "Barbies." But they are not Barbies. They are action figures. Manly action figures! And I have them because they are important to my lifelong study of popular culture.

...

"Great Scott! That airplane - its engines are on fire! This looks like a job...for SUPERMAN!"

SWWWOOOOSH! Quick, Superman, catch the plane! Use your heat vision to weld the engine back onto the wing! Oh oh, turbulence! Push, Superman! PUSH! Almost at the runway! Easy - decelerate gradually so you don't kill the passengers inside! Five seconds to impact...four...three...two...one...touchdown! 314 men, women and children, safe and sound!

"Gee, thanks Superman!"

"No problem, Captain - I'm glad I could help. Whoops, excuse me - gotta fly."

WHOOSH! ZOOM!

...

See? Action. They're not Barbies.

Sweeping Generalizations

The Barefoot Sweeper

Saturday night the gang gathered at Pete's place for our second round of the Serenity roleplaying game. The common theme that night was spillage and cleanup. As seen here, Mike was so disturbed by Pete's filthy back deck that he felt compelled to sweep up. Later in the evening, Steve dropped his Brute on Pete's shiny hardwood floor(the sandwich, not his actual brute, not that he has one or anything that I know of) and promptly wiped up the mess. This prompted some gentle ribbing and reminded us of the night, not long ago, that Jeff spilled Pete's expensive port all over Pete's expensive table. The mess was promptly cleaned up.

According to a common stereotype, men don't enjoy cleaning. But among my particular tribe of geek friends, cleanliness is clearly a virtue.

Stealing a line from my friend Leslie...

What I'm reading: Cloud Atlas, by David Mitchell. Unusual and compelling, despite being a finalist for the Man Booker prize (rimshot!).

Speaking of awards, I found out today that E.L. Doctorow's Ragtime, which I have always assumed is a mainstream novel, was nominated for the Nebula award - an SF prize. I haven't read Ragtime - anyone know if it has any speculative content? (Some of you may remember the story from the film adaptation - widely publicized as James Cagney's last film.)

My Kung Fu is Stronger Than Yours

On Thursday, Sylvia and I met Sylvia's parents at Joey's Only to celebrate Sylvia's mom's birthday. The subject of "brain freeze" came up - that is, the painful headache that occurs when you eat or drink something cold way too fast.

So I mused aloud, "They should have a movie in which an action hero is fighting a bad guy, and the good guy has no weapons, while the bad guy has a knife. Fortunately there's an ice cream vendor close by, so the good guy grabs a triple-scoop cone from the vendor's hands and stuffs it into the open mouth of the bad guy. The bad guy instantly gets a HUGE ice cream headache, which distracts him enough for the good guy to disable him."

Sylvia's parents seemed to think it was funny, but I think it could be a really gripping action scene. The hero could say, "Now you scream for ice cream!" or "Now our Revellos have just begun!" A bystander could say, "Wow, he creamed him!" or "That's putting him on ice - ice CREAM, that is!"

Fool's Errand

Somewhere, a jester is crying

Sometimes, lost items are pinned to the mail room bulletin board at my condominium complex. On Monday, I discovered that some poor fool - literally - had lost his jester's cap and gloves. Some bereft Punch or Judy is now gloveless, hatless, propless and mirthless.

Ah, sorrowful jackanapes!
Whose hat and gloves somehow escaped
Your merriment and joyful japes
Your jokes fermented to sour grapes.

The lost chapeau of a faceless jester
Whose juggling now will surely fester
An uncrowned head, a bald-faced fool
An instrument of royal rule

Distracting all the fools at court
With games of chance and somesuch sport

The winds they robbed the fool of hat
And that, my blahging fans, is that.

Vogt Woods

Rob Vogt, Earl J. Woods


Rob and Earl do the publicity shot thing.

Another clever "Vogt-Vote" pun to accompany a couple of nice shots of Rob and I. Sean took these two photos, and I think he did quite a nice job.

Get Out...the Vogt!

My old friend Rob Vogt came up to Leduc for Sean's ball hockey classic! Once a fellow denizen of Lister Hall (and my floor, Main Kelsey), Rob is now a big-time newspaper editor. Go Rob! Here, he displays his journalistic acumen by snapping a photo of newly minted political crusader Earl J. Woods, who is just uncool enough to refer to himself in the third person. Earl J. Woods thinks it's cool! 

I'm Looking Through You

Dad admires the efficiency with which I smashed a nonfunctioning VCR. 

Hard Luck Hard Drive

See the hard drive actually bounce off the floor as Sean's sledgehammer hits home! 



Sean displays his handiwork. Mission accomplished - data destroyed!