Vacation of sorts

I know there are some people in my department who might purposely schedule an elective procedure conveniently before their scheduled holiday on, yet I swear that's not what I did. My eye surgery was actually scheduled for earlier, and it was my eye doctor who rescheduled to July 1, 2010. Thus, making it impossible I could work my scheduled holiday.

In my 14 years as an RT I have not one time ever called in sick, at least not spur of the moment. I have never copped out of a holiday, and have always been willing to come in spur of the moment -- even in the middle of the night -- to help out my coworkers. Which is probably why my boss didn't wince when my strabismus surgery was scheduled for July 1, 2010. I think when you're a hard worker, one who seldom complains, such respect is deserving.

I have to say the warm breeze wafting past me as I write this feels something great, and I can hardly remember a moment when I felt greater. This is going to be a great 4th of July if this weather keeps up.

However, the prick and itch of my right eye, and the dull pain there, is enough to make me want to hang low this weekend as opposed to having as much fun as most other folks who so happen to have the holiday off. I still have a little trouble getting my eye to stay open, let alone focus with it.

And even though it's not been busy recently at work, it's still nice to have off. Even if you sit at work for 12 hours and do nothing, your muscles still ache by the end of the day. It's nice to simply rest your mind and your body and enjoy the awesome weather. And of course spend some quality time with the family as well.

I really do appreciate this time off, because of all my years working nights, I almost always either worked the 3rd of July or the 4th, so I was somewhat tired the entire holiday. It's nice to, for a change, have the whole thing off -- even though it took a surgery to get it off.

So, we will definitely appreciate it -- all of it.

ABG on neonate? Gobble! Gobble!

I always choose to work the Thanksgiving Holliday due to the fact it's usually not busy.  Most doctors work overtime to send as many patients home as possible.  Last night, however, was the exception to the rule.  ER wasn't so bad except for the 10 EKGs, but OB gave me a challenge near the end of my shift.

We had an exceptionally nice rental neonatologist and she kept ordering things that not only were not indicated, but were not done where I work.  Yet because she was so laid back I was able to cross the line a little bit.

Even though the pt had an SpO2 of 94%, the doctor wanted me to put 1lpm nc on the patient.  She said that even though I already had the oxyhood set up.  However, I said, "That patient has a sat of 94%, that's perfect!"

"Yeah, but I want it at least 95%." 

Why?  That goes against NRP recommendations.

"I would feel more comfortable just using the oxyhood," I said, "We don't have neonatal flowmeters here."

"Why not.  This is neo ICU is it not?"

"Our neonatologists like oxyhoods. If you work here more often we'd set up any equipment you wanted."  I smiled.  What else was I to do. 

She spent ten minutes putting in an art line, and by the time she was done I had a syringe for the ABG draw I didn't even think was indicated.  But she said, "I don't want you to draw off this.  I'm afraid it will clot off."

So why the heck did you put it in then?

"I want you do do a CBG," she said.

"We don't do CBGs here."

She grimaced.  "Why not.  Why you not have CBG equip?  Why?  You scared?"

"To be honest," I said, "Dr. Harry told me a few years back CBGs aren't beneficial."  I bit my tongue due to the verbal slilppage of the tongue due to lack of sleep.

"That okay.  Draw ABG then?"

"Why don't we just draw it from the line?"

"I don't want it to clot."

Since we never do those in OB, I had to go get a needle for the syringe I had in my hand.  I had no intention of drawing it, though.  In fact, I wasn't sure what I was going to do.  Stall!  Stall! 

"You can draw it," I said to the doctor.  "I bet you're pretty good."

She was palpating the radial pulse of the baby, so I thought she was going to do it.  Then she handed me the syringe and, as she was walking away, said, "Just don't hit the central line."

By this time my relief showed up.  I handed her the syringe, "Have fun!"

"I'm not dong it.  I didn't even think you could draw ABGs on neonates.  I never heard of it."

"That's my sentiments exactly." 

"Happy Thanksgiving!" I said. 

"Happy Thanksgiving!"

Busy at work! Who cares! I'm on Vacation now!

It's the middle of July. The weather is beautiful up her in Shoreline, Michigan. In fact, I don't think it can get any better -- not too hot, not too cool. And, yet, instead of being out and enjoying it, it seems many individuals are getting sick -- or faking it for attentjion -- and visiting me at the hospital.

It seems to me in that most summers I work business is slow. In fact, in years past I remember telling my friends that I'm never going to take a vacation in the summer again because it's so slow at work in the summer that going to work is like a vacation in itself. I sit there all night and play on the Internet, get caught up on my personal projects -- like this blog and my check book -- and simply enjoy it.

This year, however, it seems the summer vacation at work is not going to happen. Why? Does the economic circumstance lead to depression and hence sickness? I don't know, but that's what I'm beginning to wonder.

We actually got down to 4 patients last Tuesday, but as soon as I stepped in the door Thursday evening (7-p.m. exactly) a Code Blue was called over head. After spending an hour at that, I spent the next two hours in the ER, and it seems every patient I saw was admitted, including Mr. Montague who seems to get pneumonia once every two months. While I was giving him his tx in the ER, his wife says, "He wants to be admitted." It's not very often people come right out and admit that.

Mrs. Cocrain in the critical care has been on a ventilator for the better part of three months. I've written about her on this blog, but I can't seem to find it. She initially had a DNR order the family did not respect. So, now she has to live this way until she dies. Although she hated the vent dependend unit down state, so she gets anxious, a feeling of air hunger befalls her, and she finds herself admitted for the three millionth time. And when she is here, she gets treated as though she were in a VDU: on the vent at night, off during the day.

And then it seems we have at least 12 other patients all admitted for some reason not related to bronchospasm, and yet they all must have breathing treatmtns because???? Your guess is as good as mine. My boss says we should all quit complaining (not that I am), and be happy we have jobs. Well, she has a point, but it would be better to at least enjoy the off season, the usual vacation season that comes with summer.

Normally this time of year it's 90 degrees with 100% humidity this time a year (either that or it's coming soon), and since I don't have air at home I look forward to coming to work where I can enjoy the cool air. Perhaps if it's slow enough I can sit in an empty patient waiting room and watch the Detroit Tigers.

But, none of that seems to be happening this summer. By Monday Morning I'm running around like a chicken with it's head chopped off on my 4th straight day, and, you guessed it, Code Blue! wails overhead. My long weekend ends the same way it began. The code went well, and then just as I'm getting ready to leave I get word my relief forgot she had to work today. No prob.

Either way, I'm happy to be on a real vacation now. My feet are aching and my eyes are weary. It may take a few days into this free time to recoup. So, since I will be on vacation this week, don't expect anything too thought provoking at the RT Cave. In fact, I think I might spend the bulk of it just loafing around and pretending the Internet doesn't exist.

A surreal day: just the boy & me in Detroit

It was a father son vacation. Since the girls seem to get all the attention in this family, I thought it would be cool to have a father son outing. Jordan chose a Tiger's game.

I'm one of those rare people who love a nice ride with good music, daydreams, and discussions with the boy about the Tigers. He was pumped and eager to get autographs.

Coming from a small town where summer vacationers usually make a mere one or two stoplights a two minute longer wait, driving around the big city is a slight stressor. Jordan and I were going to meet up with a buddy of mine from college I hadn't seen in 20 years, but finding his place was turning into a major challenge -- like finding a needle in a haystack. And since I had lost my cell phone I couldn't call him.

Jordan was geared up with his Detroit Tiger shirt and hat on, and his Detroit Tiger backpack filled with his glove, baseball cards and a bat he wants to get signed.

He's eager and full of anticipation. "I'm going to get Verlander, Porcello and Jackson to sign my glove," he said. "So quit driving around and just park so we can get to the stadium before it's too late to get autographs."

I drove around the streets Rich directed me to and still I couldn't find his building. So, finally, Jordan said, "Dad, just pull into that parking lot right there. It's only $10. Forget about your friend."

I parked. We walked the five minute journey to the park. It was surreal walk for country folks as we walked below the towering historical buildings not knowing which one was which, only knowing Comerica Park was "that way." And as we walk up to the park you can actually see right in. It's a cool sight. Two hours before the game some folks were already sitting atop buildings outside the stadium, yet inside most seats were empty.

One guy with missing teeth walked up to us and asked if we needed tickets. I asked if he knew where there might be a pay phone, and he said, "That's funny you ask, because I don't think there are any payphones at all in downtown Detroit. You'd think there would be, hey?"

Inside the park Jordan insisted I find my pay phone on my own, because he was going to find the Tiger dugout and get some autographs. "Dad, I'll just meet you in our seats when the game starts. I can't waste time. I have to get my autographs."

I walked him to the Tiger dugout.

At the customer service desk the good folks there let me make a call to Rich for free. That impressed me. It doesn't take much to impress me. I met Rich at the gate and slid him his ticket through the a barred gate (which was unlocked by the way).

As I waited for him, I wondered if I would be able to pick him out of a crowd. Then I saw this guy walking around confused and figured that must be him. I waved.

While we were catching up behind Jordan as he was itching to get Nate Robertson's autograph, beads of sweat were dripping down my forehead as the sun was beating down on us. I had decided if this heat persisted, I was not going to make it through a three hour long game.

It was worth standing in the scorching heat, though, as Jordan eventually powered himself to the fence and hefted his glove and Sharpie for Nate Robertson to sign. Once he had it we were ordered to go to our seats.

When I ordered the tickets I had no idea our tickets were at the very top of the upper deck over third base, last row, under the awning, where there was a cool breeze as though a fan were blowing on us. We decided these Bob Euchre seats were the best seats in the entire stadium.

And when the rain started to fall in the 8th inning, every body in the stadium got wet but us. All we got was a nice cool breeze. It was great. And the game was great.

The boy was bound and determined the Tigers were going to win, and this determination reminded the dad of when he was a boy and big time Tiger fan. When I was 12 I remember willing the Tigers to many victories.

It's almost as though you JUST KNOW they are going to win. I had that feeling that my boy was going to WILL the Tigers to a victory on this night. So when the Tigers were down by three after a Cub three run homer in inning one, the dad did not fret.

Almost as though it were expected, Fernando Rodney struck out the batter and the runner was stranded on second -- the Tigers won. Jordan and I led Rich to our car, and, ironically, it turned out to be parked right across the street from Rich's pad. Was this another one of the boy's miracles. Do boys have that kind of power?

Rich walked Jordan and I around Detroit. A few beggars approached us, and one probably tried to pick my pocket as he patted me on the back saying, "That's okay, I understand." Unfortunately for him I keep my wallet in my front pocket when I'm in Detroit.

Just walking around Detroit itself is surreal. It almost seems like there is nothing in Detroit but old buildings, but Rich took us into one plain set of doors, and inside was this magnanimous and capacious indoor room with a large towering water fountain. It was the main floor of a towering office building, and, best of all, it was air conditioned.

Also inside the building was Hard Rock Cafe. It was too expensive for us to eat there, but we entered anyway just to be cool. Then we ate at a coney place I can't remember the name of. Rich said it was one of the most famous coney places in the world.

Back at Rich's we boarded an elevator that was hot, stuffy, claustrophobic and run by a hand crank. I had never seen such an ancient elevator. On the way up I vowed I would not take it on the way down. Yet Rich's loft was really cool, and even Jordan was impressed. It was a spacious pad with open windows (no screens) and a warm breeze blowing through. He had an awesome view of the city.

"As I listen to Tiger games there is a five second delay," Rich said. "So I can actually hear the cheer through the windows before I hear the announcers describing what happened on the radio. I actually can tell what each cheer is for. If someone hits a home run, I usually know it before the announcers tell us. It's really neat."

Facing one of the windows were two antique blue seats that Rich said were from the old Tiger Stadium. Jordan and I sat in them just to be cool, and checked out the view.

On the way to my brother's Jordan said, "Dad, your friend Rich turned out to be a really cool guy. We should meet him again next year."

I'll take it from that Jordan had a great time in Detroit. As soon as we were at my brothers he borrowed a Blackberry and called his mother. It was a great feeling listening to him gloat to her about all the cool things he did that day. I think it's safe to say: mission accomplished. Thanks Rich.

A virus forced me to take a vacation from RT Cave

While it only takes one day to get burned out, it takes at least five days to get un-burned out. That's where I stand right now, on day #5 of being off. But that, my fellow readers, is not why I haven't posted here at the RT Cave the past four days.

Despite all the spyware on my computer, I caught a virus. It was one of those where every time I logged onto the Internet an anti-virus company had it's ad on my screen saying I had many viruses on my computer, and the only way to get rid of the viruses was to buy the product offered.

It was quite obvious to me that the same company who wanted me to pay to get rid of the virus was the same crooked company that put the virus on my computer. It's fraud plain as day. Yet how do little folks like you and me prove who put that virus on my computer? From what I've learned, it's nearly impossible to prosecute these thugs.

So it took my brother in law five days to read up on and figure out how to remove the virus. And that's where I stand right now. Finally, after a nice vacation from the Internet, I am back on here.

However, I have to say, taking a vacation from the Internet is not so bad. It was actually quite nice to take a vacation not only from work, but from the Internet as well. And three consecutive nights with 12 hours sleep helped as well. The result is that my burnout is gone. I hope it stays that way.

Yet, as all medical workers know, while it may take five days to get un-burned out, it only takes one busy night at the hospital to get all re-burned out again.

The ironic thing about this profession, though, is that if it's not busy at work, work can be a vacation in and of itself. Well, we'll have to wait and see how it is tomorrow when I do return to work.

Great to be back.

Back at it

It's hard to get motivated to work after being off three weeks, but when you only have four patients the move is that much easier. It makes me wonder if perhaps the slow economy has made people too poor to become sick.

I have a ton of emails and questions I will go through in the next few days and respond or answer. Bear with me, though, as it might take me some time to get caught up.

We actually planned on going to Florida, but our 2 month old baby girl decided she didn't want to go. Even though I didn't get to enjoy the warm weather -- and it was 90 degrees the day we were gonna go to Disney -- I vowed I wouldn't write in order to clear my head.

Well, my head is clear. So, here we go, refreshed and ready to write some more. Of course if work stays this slow (fingers crossed behind back), I might actually stay refreshed.

A simple vacation

Sometimes it's nice just to get away from it all. Yet sometimes getting away from it all is not going anywhere at all.

The neonate wasn't keen on traveling, so anything involving the vehicle was out of the question.

It was sad to say, "Sorry kids, but we aren't going to travel 24 hours to get to your grandparents this year."

Yet, while the kids are away at school, the days we would normally have spent in the warm weather are just as relaxing here at home, so long as we can stay away from the normal routine.

It's hard, though, to not do the things you want to get away from when you are supposed to be on vacation. And Disney World is a heck of a lot more fun than blogging (oops, I'm not supposed to be doing this either. See what I mean, this is hard.)

But, when one has kids, sometimes these are the sacrifices one must make. If you have kids, I'm sure you know what I mean.

A hunting camp vacation

Well, folks, I'm going to hunting camp today, so I will not be doing much blogging the remainder of the week. I will have a new entry coming up on my asthma blog, and when that comes up I will let you know.

Otherwise I will try to have nothing but fun at hunting camp.

Note that I do not hunt. Note that I don't think there has been one deer in our camp in the 28 years I have been going there.

Basically, this is just an excuse for the men in my family to get away from life for a while.

I had an interesting thought earlier today. A friend of mine told me she gets together with friends for a weekend of sewing and imbibing.

So, I thought, what is worse, women imbibing and then playing with needles and sewing machines, or men imbibing and playing with guns?

As I told her, I think the answer is obvious. And that is probably why the hunting part of hunting camp has been phased out in the Frea family.

Well, I hope you guys have a good week and don't miss me too much.

The last thing I want to think about is... work

Sometimes the best part of working is not working. The days off are the best part of having a good job. The being able to actually take a day, or a week in my case, away from the workplace to stop and smell the roses.

Well, there are no roses out right now, but the cool, refreshing 59 degree breeze that's out there is very refreshing, especially after that long and dreary winter we had this year. Man, it seemed that snow was never going to go away.

But it did. And my kids and I have been getting out as much as we can these past few days and enjoying every moment of it. In a way, these first few warm days are kind of similar to those days in Florida in the middle of winter. We appreciate every moment of it.

So, need it be said, that respiratory therapy is the furthest thing from my mind these past few days. And, considering how busy it was the past few weeks at Shoreline, the last thing I want to think about right now is respiratory therapy stuff. I want to stay far away from that as I can.

Funny thing, I'm not even on vacation right now, just my regular days off. Well deserved I say.

Retirement living is like college -- in reverse

One thing that I'm reminded of every time I see my dad is that I absolutely do not want to work as long as the government wants me to, until I'm 62. I want to retire when I'm 58 and golf the rest of my life away as my dad is doing, and as grandpa did.

My dad leaves Michigan in October and drives to Florida where he lives on this really nice retirement community. Wrapped around the nice homes in the community is a golf course, where my dad and many of his retired friends "work."

The milieu there is akin to the college setting, only the opposite. Instead of getting up late and staying up late, most members of this community go to bed early and get up early. And when I'm there I have no trouble adjusting to the difference, especially since my home sleep schedule is so messed up because I work the nocturnal shift.

Four-o-clock every day is happy hour. This is a time when all of us gather on the back porch of mom and dad's house and enjoy the warm breeze to the tune of a drink or two or three. Then we pack around the dinner table and enjoy some of mom's good home cooking.

After dinner dad and I usually go back outside and watch some TV while the kids watch cartoons on the living room TV and the women do whatever women do.

I pull up one of the other chairs and set my feet on it and get myself real, real comfortable as dad clicks on the TV. Usually it's Fox News or the history channel.

"Everybody watches Fox News," Jim from across the street says as he strolls onto the porch, the screen door slamming behind him.

"Hey, Rick," he says to me as he cordially takes my hand with a firm grip, and then plops into a chair by the TV with an equanimatous smile spread across his aging face. I look at dad, and he too has a happy expression on his face, the countenance of a happily retired man without a responsibility in the world other than when his next golfing match will be.

Some light bantering occurs, but nothing too serious. Some light conversations about politics ensue, and it mostly goes along the lines of this, as my dad said: "Ah, it doesn't matter so much what they do, so long as they don't take this away from us."

By "this" he is referring to the way he lives his life. He's relaxed. He's happy. He enjoys the warm weather instead of the freezing snow. He gets to golf any time he wants. Every day at 4 he enjoys happy hour. He smiles. He laughs.

Then, as I'm feeling happy (not drunk but happy) after two or three glasses of wine, I find myself yawning. "I think I'm getting tired," I say.

"Well, you can go to bed anytime you want here. In fact, your mother is probably in bed already."

"Yeah, well, how about one more drink."

"One more." Dad agrees.

So we enjoy the warm Florida outdoors a while longer. My yawns become more frequent. A few more of dad's friends come and then go leaving me and dad alone again.

"Yep," dad said, "Don't get old son, on second thought, get old, it beats the alternative."

I laughed, and then time went by without as much as a word as we enjoyed the moments.

"Well, I'm going to bed, dad," I finally decide.

"You're on vacation," he said, "you can do whatever you want."

Inside I see that the kids already have their pajamas on. I look at the clock, and it reads 7:30 p.m.

In the morning I wake up to the Weather Channel, every day, at around 6:30. And it's real loud. I don't think dad has a clue how loud it is, or he'd probably turn it down. Neither my wife nor I ever say anything.

"Your up early, dad."

"Yep, gotta get to the clubhouse early so I can get a good t-time. Then I go to work," golf, "and then I take a nap, and then it's happy hour."

"Well, I'll see you when we get back from Disney."

"Yep, you have fun." He gave me that "yep, been there done that," look and smiled as he exited the house.

I told him how Disney was nice the first time just to see what it was like, but the only reason I do it any more is for the kids. I only griped when we went to Animal Kingdom, of which I think is nothing more than a glorified zoo.

But the kids are the perfect age for any Disney park. It was as though they were living in a magic world while they were there. And my 4 YO was so cute as she hugged and kissed every character. That part was cool. And that's the only reason I go anymore -- for the kids. No offense Disney, but this 37 year old RT has had enough of the magic.

We decided last summer that we wouldn't go this year so we could save our money, but as winter loomed we decided better of it. "You know, our kids are going to grow up fast, and your parents aren't getting any younger, we might as well just go."

And she was right. Right around February cabin fever set in with a vengeance, work was swamped, and we were antsy to get on the road.

That's about how it is every year for us

Dad and mom, on the other hand, do this every day. As we pack our bags, load up our car, and drive away with mom and dad waving, we are headed back to two more months of cold and snow, and 21 years before I turn 58, the age both my dad and his dad before him retired.

Mom and dad, on the other hand, will enjoy happy hour with whatever friends come over that day, enjoy moms good home cooking, go to bed at 7:30, and get up at the crack of dawn to to go to work, er, golf.

What a life.

Working as an RT is pretty cool, but the idea of golfing for a living sounds far cooler -- or warmer considering I'll be in Florida.

And hile I don't want to wish my life away, nor do I want to rush my kid's growing up, I'm certainly going to enjoy golfing for a living once I turn 58.

A snowy end to a warm vacation

Well, your RT Cave RT is still alive and well, but a bit slow to get back into the swing of things after a great vacation in Florida.

In my last post I wrote how I was dreading the ride home. It's far better when we are driving toward the warm weather, as every time we step out of the Dodge Caravan the weather is that much warmer. On the way home it's the opposite: colder and colder.

The ride home wasn't so bad until we re-entered Michigan. With every mile driven the snow seemed to come down thicker and thicker from that point. It was bad, but nothing we hadn't driven through before.

As we passed through the last city about an hour from home it was snowing pretty heavily, but we could still see the roads pretty clearly, and traffic was rolling along.

"If we don't stop here," my wife said, "we're definitely driving all the way home, because I'm not stopping 20 miles from home."

"Sounds good to me," I said. "I'll leave the decision to you, considering you're the driver."

"As long as we get home before dark," we said together. We were both anxious to get home, and, needless to say, the kids were getting on our nerves by this point.

Our plans were dashed as we neared the Near Ego exit, about 40 miles from home. An emergency vehicle was parked in the middle of the expressway, and a volunteer fire fighter was directing traffic off the highway.

My wife rolled down her window as we passed the firefighter. "What's going on?"

"An accident," the man said.

"That was a dumb question, hey," she said while rolling up the window and looking at me. "So, now what do we do? Do we wait here for the accident to be cleared, or do we travel in unfamiliar territory?"

"I have no idea," I said.

I had never taken this exit before, and the wife had once. We knew there was an old highway somewhere near here. So, here we were so close to home, so close to a nightfall we dreaded, and we were driving down barely visible side roads unfamiliar to us.

It's one thing to direct traffic off the main highway, but don't you think they should at least tell you how to get back on?

Well, they didn't. And, by the time we found a ramp ten miles down the snow was falling and blowing so hard we couldn't even see the expressway, traveling 15 MPH through pure whiteness. We could just barely see the markers on the side of the road.

For you guys not familiar with driving through blizzards, you do not want to stop even if you can't see, because you might not be able to get started again on the thick snow. You just keep chugging along as best you can, and hope no car has stopped in front of you, because if that happened you'd smack right into it.

"Wifey," I said finally, "We are definitely stopping at the next hotel."

She didn't argue. We were only 20 minutes from home pulling off the expressway at a Comfort Inn. At first we weren't sure we'd even be able to see the exit, but again we were thankful to the road markers.

The kids were not happy -- that is, until they found out the hotel had an indoor pool.

Actually, staying at this hotel was kind of a relaxing end to a nice vacation. We swam in the pool, loafed in the hot tub, slept in, did the pool thing again in the morning, and waited for the snowplows to go through before topping off the vacation.

Today I learned that a semi had jack-knifed on the expressway and there were several cars involved, and that's why we were roughted off the expressway.

Anyway, I suppose I shouldn't be telling people we had to whimp out so close to home, but at least we're all alive and well.

The arduous trip home

It seems we check the weather channel while here in Fla more times that time rest of the year combined. We'll be on the road the next few days gambling with the weather.

If things don't go our way we'll make it a two day trip instead of two. We're not making a big deal of it either way, considering the boy had two snow days last week and is ahead of his class (probably) on his homework. His mother is very good about making sure he keeps up while we're away.

Well, the next time I report I'll be back in Shoreline. Hopefully my nice neighbor kept my driveway plowed. If now, I might be digging through 10 feet of snow to shovel out my house.

I'm not joking there. I was told the snow was as high as the railings on the steps to the front door. Should be fun.

Heck, we have fun no matter what we do.

Burnout meter near empty

Nothing like a nice, long and warm and sunny Florida vacation to empty out the burnout meter. As of this moment, the meter is three quarters of the way empty.

Well, normally after an entire week Florida you'd think the burnout meter would be completely wiped clear to zero, but my feet are still aching after two long days at Disney and today at Universal.

It was fun, especially seeing the smiles these past few days have placed on my children's faces, but, as most of you guys probably well know, sometimes even vacations can be a lot of work.

Tomorrow is our last day here in Florida, and we're planning on doing nothing but sitting around relaxing and enjoying the warm weather. It's projected to be in the 80s.

Considering the weather was so bad at Shoreline that school was cancelled twice this week, we're going to enjoy it all the more.

On the day we arrived in Fla last Saturday my wife's sister called and reported that it was -4 degrees back home. And, while it was only 42 degrees yesterday morning here, we still wore shorts.

But, hey, we're from Michigan, and we can handle it. And there's no way we're going all the way to Fla and not wearing shorts.

Even on that 42 degree morning it warmed up to 70 by noon, and that was the coldest it got. Great weather here, people. We're thinking we'd like to move here.

What were our ancestors thinking settling in Michigan? You ever think of that? Why your ancestors didn't settle someplace warm year round?

Reporting in from Florida

When my son was four he was a saint traveling. I suppose he spoiled us, because my daughter isn't so tame. While my son is content to play his Nintendo DS, or read a book, my daughter wants something new to do every ten minutes or so.

One of the greatest forms of child entertainment ever invented for people who like to travel with their children, like us, is the portable DVD player. You just plug it into what used to be used for lighting cigarettes and voila, instant entertainment.

Thirty minutes into the ride and we found our DVD player wasn't working, so we already had to make a pitstop -- at Walmart.

So, we made it. It's warm and sunny.

This is why I am proud of my job as an RT

Where I work there are only two of us who work nights on a regular basis, so about 8 years ago we got together and tinkered with our schedule. We created the ideal work schedule for the both of us.

My schedule works perfect for a family man, because every other week I have six days off in a row -- it works out like a mini vacation.

I do have to work a four day weekend every other week, but it comes right after my six off, so I'm usually well rested. Basically, I'm four on, two off, two on, and then six off. It's the kind of schedule most people only dream of.

If I want to take a longer vacation, usually all I need to do is take off the two day stretch in the middle of the week and I have ten days off. I usually do this three times in the summer. Last summer I added the days up, and I had over 50 days off in June, July and August. How's that for cool

One of my coworkers likes to say, "I work so I can get days off." I love that line because it rings so true where I work.

Yesterday Carrie and I both had off, and we went to the Big City where my family were to meet for our annual Christmas party. I come from a family of six, so getting us all together is very hard these days, especially considering we are spread out all over the state. But, despite the weather forecast of freezing rain and strong winds, we all made it but one of us.

We all had a blast, despite the fact we only had 2 hours to spend there before we had to get going . We wanted more than anything to beat the weather. On the way back the roads started out nice, and continued to get whiter and whiter and narrower and narrower and darker and darker, and I kept driving slower and slower.

By the time I got to Shoreline county I was driving 40 mph, and snow was falling fast. At times it was a complete whiteout, but I kept moving forward hoping to get some view of the road. It was rough, especially with daughter getting impatient in the back seat. It's not easy keeping a tied in 4-year-old entertained in the car.

And, it never fails, that even when you can't see the road and you're driving slow, some trucker passes you going what seems like 100 mph spewing snow and slush into your windshield making it nearly impossible to see. I'm amazed I've never seen one of those guys wipe out in front of me.

Today KK wanted to go outside and make a snowman, and I wanted to take her out, but it rained for most of the day. So instead of going outside I played Super Mario Baseball with JJ, and later played an amalgamate of games with KK. I don't know if my kids will ever appreciate all the time I'm able to spend with them.

When I was a kid (I hated when my mom always said that), my dad worked 10 hour days at his business, and then he came home to eat dinner, and then he left to work on his apartment houses. When he managed to get a day off to spend with us we really appreciated it. My job allows me to spend lots of time with my kids.

I hope they still appreciate it.

Well, I still have three days to go. Carrie is working right now, and she'll work again tomorrow. So pretty much it's just me and the kids until Tuesday. That will be my night to go to dinner or a movie with Carrie. I'm really looking forward to that.

You can't beat this. This is one of the greatest of all the benefits of working as an RT at a small town hospital.

Defining a successful vacation

When I was a kid and we went on vacation as a family, I never wanted to go back home. It always seemed that mom and dad were happier, more likely to agree with us kids and let us do things our way, and, of course, we didn't have to do any homework.

My dad owned a car lot, so on the way we'd usually have this nice sized van to loaf in, and most of the time we'd turn the table and chairs into a bed and rest comfortably. We did not worry about seatbelts back then. And, of course, there was a TV. While it wasn't hooked up to cable, there always seemed to be at least one channel we could pick up.

Sure we got into some fights, and mom would yell at one or all of us or dad would smack us with the back of his hand if one of us got way out of hand if he could reach us while maintaining his grip on the wheel, but for the most part we all seemed to enjoy ourselves.

If we went to visit a relavite there were always new toys to play with that were far better than the old boring ones that we had at home. And there usually were other kids to play with. And when we weren't visiting we were doing something cool like going to Mammoth Cave on the way to Florida or mini-golfing when we visited grandma in Florida or going to someplace.

Maybe my siblings didn't enjoy it as much as myself, but to me it was fun just to get away from the reality of home life for a while.

I suppose a successful trip as a kid is one where you have so much fun you don't want to go home. My parents succeeded in accomplishing this many times, as I hope I did with my kids this past weekend.

Now, as an adult, I remember those trips. Now I feel joy in knowing I'm the dad, the one who gets to decide what cool things we do. So last weekend when my wife decided she was going to have a girl weekend with her friends, I asked the kids what they wanted to do for fun.

"I want to play with Arlan," my son said.

"Okay," I said.

"Really."

"Sure. Pack up your bags and let's go."

They were so excited I can't put it into words. When I asked KK to get dressed in the morning she didn't fight me one bit. My son packed his own bags.

There is some kind of joy in traveling in a car for 2 1/2 hours, stopping at McDonalds and not worrying about the diet, lettting the kids get whatever they wanted because mom wasn't there to tell them they couldn't have something. And drinking pop and eating donuts and chips the rest of the way.

And while we were at my brothers both my son and daughter had a cousin their ages to play with and they played non-stop. And my brother and I talked sports and politics without worrying about what we said because we don't judge one another. There is nothing better than hanging out with people you know won't judge you.

Then my older brother showed up with his kids and we watched the Redwings, played live-aciton sports on the Wii. The new Wii has a motion sensor where you actually have to swing the golf club or the baseball bat to hit the ball. It's amazing how far these games have come since the Atarii we played with back in the 80s.

When we were hungry we ate hamburgers or ordered pizza without worrying about price or about eating too much. We rehashed some old memories, and listened to the kids giggling late into the night, way past bedtime. My daughter came to me on her own accord finally and said, "Daddy, I'm tired."

Finally, my dad showed up with another one of my brothers and we watched the Lions. The game was a bust, but it was cool to have all us brothers together again, even while it was only for a few short hours.

We dads love vacations. Dad was vacationing here from his winter home in Florida. He was happy to be with his kids; he didn't need to say it. Just like he didn't need to say he was happy to be on vacation with his boys when we were kids.

Dad never even asked why I didn't go to hunting camp with him this weekend, for he just knew.

My youngest brother, Trin, did. "Why didn't you come out to camp with us."

"Kids!" I said, bluntly. "This was my weekend with the kids." He smiled. Some day he and his wife will have kids and he'll know how I feel, if he doesn't have a clue already. I bet he does because he loves to play with his nieces and nephews.

As an adult, no matter how long a vacation lasts, a successful vacation is one in which you are equally excited to get back home as you were to leave. My trip to the big city this past weekend accomplished that.

So we were all happy. Now we are home, me and the kids, and we're all happy and well rested -- and so is mom.

It was a nice weekend.