Poem for Surgical Techs

I have watched as a Surgeon cried

Continued to try as someone died

Saw the fear in the eyes of the bold

Held hands as the medications took hold

Taken out metal, plastic and bone

Helped position in lateral, supine and prone

Heard the first sounds of a tiny new life

Washed away evidence of mortal strife

Started with honed steel slipping through flesh

Finish with dressings, screws, graphs or mesh

Everyday working to improve peoples lives

Using scopes, drills, sponges and knives

Horrible things that I have helped repair

In my memory, I wish they didn’t live there

My life doing this I would not ever change

No matter how crazy, stressful or strange

Endless hours a mayo my closest friend

Pains of my own, trying to mend

To see the smiles when the healing begins

Whether we fixed their head, heart or shins

A Surgical Technologist is a one of a kind

A special version of body, soul and mind

DWORTMAN,CST 2017

God Made a CST

God Made a CST

And on the 200th day God looked down on his planned paradise and said, "I need a caregiver!"  So, God made a Certified Surgical Technologist!

God said I need somebody to get up before dawn and prepare the operating rooms and work all day in the blood and guts, eating lunch in two minutes and then go to town and stay past midnight at their child's football game. 

So, God made a CST!

God said, "I need somebody with strong arms. Strong enough to dislocate a hip, yet gentle enough to deliver someone's grandchild. Somebody to call the instrument room, tame cantankerous Doctors, come home hungry and have to wait because they get called back in for a little girl who was in a car accident. Then go let the family know everything will be okay with a smile...and mean it."  

So, God made a CST!

God said "I need somebody that can stop a bleeder, plug a bullet hole with their finger while giving chest compressions, be able to hold a leg straight that's shattered in four places, and come up with a way to fix an instrument with umbilical tape and a twist tie that came off of the irrigator.  And...who, during bike week or the Indy 500, will finish their forty hour week by Wednesday noon.  Then, aching from "retractor back", put in another seventy two hours."  So, God made a CST!

God had to have somebody willing to suture the patient with care and speed, to get the patient back on the bed and over to recovery so they can bring in the next one; and yet stop in mid-step to race to help when they see the code team race by.  

So, God made a CST!

God said, "I need somebody strong enough to lift instrument sets and swing mallets, but yet gentle enough to hold the hand of a frightened patient as the anesthetics take them to dream land...and who will stop halfway to the cafeteria just to walk back to the other side of the hospital helping a family find their loved ones."  
So, God made a CST!

It had to be somebody who'd cut deep and straight...and not cut corners. Somebody to clean and sterilize, cut and tag, bovie and suck, clamp a vessel, drive the colonoscope, and tighten that screw in.  Somebody to replenish the room stock only to finish a hard day at work with a five hour discectomy.  Somebody who'd bring a family together with the soft strong bonds of sharing, who'd laugh and then sigh...and then respond with smiling eyes, when their son says he wants to spend his life "As a rock-star".  

So, God made a CST!

Copyright 2013 David Wortman

Homeless Guy....

   As I have mentioned a couple of times previously, I was the manager of a 7Eleven in Orlando, Florida. It had its perk's and disadvantages, but one thing that always comes back to me was a particular gentleman that would come to the store every night.  As I remember it, his name was Richard and he had a dog.  I don't remember the dog's name, but I remember that Richard loved that dog.  Every night he would come into the store with the money he had obtained through out the day and buy his dog a can of dog food.  The dog was on a blanket in a grocery cart and Richard would push him every where they went.     

   The furry companion was a hound dog mix of some kind, but was just happy to ride around in the grocery cart.  He was well taken care of, and even though Richard looked like he had been dragged through hell and back, the dog was very clean and very healthy looking.  
   This was back in the early 90's and we made our own sandwiches every morning and threw away the ones that were headed out of date at night.  When I was on nights and Richard would come in with his dog, I would let him have a sandwich that was going to be thrown out anyway and he would talk about things as he consumed the sandwich of the evening.  Most of the time it was about how things were in Orlando, or his opinion on politics.  One night though, after months of buying cans of dog food and receiving free sandwiches, he told me how he got to the status he lived day in and day out.
   See, Richard was not always what you would call a transient, hobo, or bum.  He had not started out his life with goals to be a homeless street walker with his only companion being his dog.  As he told it, he actually was once a very popular person.  Someone of major influence in the day to day lives of those of the more wealthier crowds.  Not sure how many, but I would hope it took at least 5-10 yrs for Richard to get to the state he was in.  He told me that he actually had lived most of his life in New York, and even though it was expired, he still had his New York driver's license.  Even after seeing his drivers license and business card, his last name still escapes me just like the dog.  I do remember one thing that was on his business card that struck me at first.  Below his name, in smaller print, were the words 'Stock Broker'.  
   At a happier point in Richard's life, he had been a father and husband.  He   had loved and was loved, and it was taken away in a last breath.  His family and his mind were taken from him by a drunk driver.  In one horrible accident, the once proud and well situated young man lost everything, including his will to continue.  He gave up his house that was no longer a home, his job that no longer held its challenge, and his life that no longer had meaning.  From what he said, his only belongings he had were kept in a storage unit near by.  He had pictures of his family he kept in his pocket, but you couldn't tell what had happened if he didn't tell you.  All you could see from the outside was a dirty, crazy shell of a man that cared deeply for his four legged companion.
   Every once in a while I think of Richard and wonder if anyone ever missed him.  If anyone knew what became of him after the tragedy that drove him to a life on the streets, and as I sit here typing this out I wonder if he is still alive, or did he ever find peace....

Rides...

   So in previous blogs I have talked about the many different jobs I have had, and the several addresses where I have received mail.  There are a couple of other things I have changed several times, one of those being a mode of transportation.  You don't really think about how you are getting places until you don't have a way to get places.  You really begin to appreciate any mode of transportation once you have walked to the store and back pushing a double stroller.  Not so bad on the initial trip, but the return can be quite interesting when you have 10 plastic grocery bags tied precariously around the stroller in various places.  And once home you pick one son up out of the stroller just as you see the stroller flip back from the weight of the bags with your other son still inside.  He of course is laughing, but you feel that sudden panic hoping he is okay.  Well, shall we begin....

   Of course like other kids of the 70's I started out with a bike with a banana seat.... 

 

   Mine was blue and had a really thick back tire because I would skid and ruin regular tires, but basically looked like the one in the picture above.  As the years continued, I would change the type of bike I was riding, but pretty much always had one as back up transportation.

   When I was eleven, my father bought my older brother Paul a new motorcycle to replace his older one.  Paul had been in an accident on his old bike, breaking his leg in two places, so he needed a bigger faster model...LOL.  And I was 'given' the older one to ride.  It was a Suzuki 50cc street bike and it was the most awesome thing I had ever ridden.

  

   Understand I was eleven and it was the early 80's.  Not sure what ever happened to the little motorcycle.  I rode it around the neighborhood a few times and then it quit working.  I don't think my mom really wanted me riding it anyway, because when I inquired about fixing the bike, it never ran again as far as I knew.  And since it was a kick start, it didn't take long for me to give up trying to get it running myself.

   My next mode of non-human powered transportation was another 2 wheeled awesomeness supplied by my Step-dad David Hunter.  I was 16 and living in Okeechobee with my brother Paul.  (That's another story for another time)  And as a surprise my parents show up with this baby in the back of the family pick-up for my birthday.

     It was a great bike, and got a lot of use and abuse.  I didn't get a whole lot of use out of it at first because I seemed to have trouble passing the written test for my permit.  I still drove it around the area where I lived, but never strayed too far because getting busted without a license (as I learned later in life) is not a good thing.  Once I got back to Orlando I passed the permit written test and was able to utilize the motorcycle a lot more.  Also around this time, my mom decided my sister Amy and I should go to a Baptist private school.  This particular school was a about 8 miles away and they didn't offer a bus, so there was a time where Amy and I would get on the Rebel and ride across town to school and back.  Since this happened to be a Baptist school and they believed females should only wear skirts or dresses, Amy would put jeans on under her skirts so she could ride the motorcycle.  When we would get to school, she would quickly pull off her jeans in the parking lot.  


   One time Amy decided she was going to get a ride home from someone else, that might have to do with the burn she got on her ankle from the exhaust when I was messing around on the motorcycle.  Anyway, I was being my normal immature self behind the bus that was taking the schools football team over to the practice field.  Popping wheelies and 'cat-walking' the motorcycle up and down the road while the bus was preparing to leave seemed like a good idea until.... As I brought the motorcycle up and began cat-walking it towards the bus, I realized to late that I didn't give enough room to bring it back down in time before I hit the back of the bus.  Next thing I know I am laying on the ground and watching the motorcycle shoot up the back of the bus, lay over and land back on top of me.  If it hurt I didn't notice it, the door on the back of the bus flew open and the football team poured out.  Lifting the motorcycle off of me, they were asking if I was alright, but I was so embarrassed I just jumped on the motorcycle and drove off.  I found out a few days later I had to pay the school $90 for a busted taillight and one of the football players gave me a small plate that I also knocked off that said 'diesel' as a memento.  After that accident, the motorcycle never really ran right, and I decided to sell it.  That didn't please my Stepdad, and I still feel bad about that situation.


   One of my first four wheeled modes of transportation was an awesome little ride known as a 1984 Dodge Daytona Turbo.  I was 18 when I bought it in 1988 for a little over $3200.  And it looked a whole lot better than the one below, but it was gold colored like this one.  She could run like a scalded dog and was easy to control on curves.  Which was a blessing and a curse.  One time, as I was making one of my several trips from Orlando to Okeechobee, which was on a little traveled two lane road that was constructed with banked curves.  

   

   The deputy sheriff that pulled me over didn't look thrilled at all at my ability to maintain my vehicle at such a high rate of velocity.  The conversation started with, 'Boy, do you know how fast you were going?'  He had clocked me running 137 mph through the trees, but finally clocked me at 107mph as I slowed to come around the curve.  He said he had to wait until he could see me before he could get a real speed on the radar.  After staring at me for what seemed like forever, he made me get out of my car and get into the back of his cruiser.  We then took a little trip to the closest Sheriff's Annex.  He sat me down and asked where I was going in such a hurry.  I said I was meeting someone in Okeechobee.  Then he asked, 'What would you think if you hit a tree at that speed?'  Seriously, what would I think?  I really don't think I would have time for a thought before I hit the tree, but I did not say this out loud.  After threatening me with jail time for Wanton/Wreckless driving he took me back to my car and gave me a ticket for $244 and said he never wanted to see me again.  Of course I had to make up the time I lost visiting with Mr Deputy Sheriff.


.....I am going to leave off here for now... I will blog about more Rides at a later date....  Just a hint of the next mode of transportation...  1967 Ponycar...

Oldest...

   I don't really think about things that led up to it, but I am really happy they happened even though it made serious changes to my life.  It was 21 yrs and approximately 36 hours ago when I took my then girlfriend to the obstetrician for a check up.  When the doctor checked her out she was dilated, and he felt it was time to get things moving along.  He sent us to the hospital in a little town called Avon Park, FL.  At this time in my life I was living with my pregnant girlfriend and her pregnant mom in Okeechobee, FL, but the hospital in Okeechobee didn't offer obstetrics so you had to go to nearby towns to give birth.  So, we arrived at the hospital at around 11am on Monday April 1st, yes April Fool's Day, see the irony?  


   The hospital was very small, and old fashioned.  Just one story and not much space for visitors.  When we arrived they got us all checked in and started her IV.  Once everything was set, they began a pitocin drip to get things moving along for the delivery.  At first things seemed to be going great, but when the contractions got really bad she started fighting against them and dilation began shrinking.  A few hours in, and after taking a few turns with her mother visiting the in labor patient I stayed for a while in the 'labor' room with her.  I guess her mom was wanting to know what was happening, so she went outside and around to the window of the 'labor' room.  And since this was an old hospital, the windows were the crank out kind and were open for cool air in the room.  It wasn't long and the nurse and I started smelling smoke.  The nurse went to the window and told my eventual mother in law that she could not smoke near the open window.


   Around 6pm my mother and stepfather showed up to the birth.  Along with them was my little sister and roughly 18 other people over the next couple of hours.  We got hungry and thirsty during this waiting game and took time to  partake of the wonderful array of vending machines.  The main machine we dumped most of our coinage into was the coffee machine that dispensed little cups of decent hot chocolate for a quarter a cup.  

   It ended up getting really late and she was still fighting the contractions so everyone was looking to find a place to sleep.  Of course the only waiting area in this hospital was near the entrance and was very small.  So a lot of people went and passed out in cars, while some tried to get comfortable in the little chairs in the waiting room.  My sister's boyfriend tried to get freaky with her best friend in the parking lot, but otherwise it was an uneventful night.  Again the next day dragged on and I think she was getting tired, because the contractions began winning again.  And around 5:15pm we got to a crowning, while I was holding one leg and the nurse was holding the other.  At this point they put her on a gurney and transported her across the hall to the 'delivery' room.  A room from what I saw when they opened the door looked like an OR.  I couldn't go in because I never finished lamaze class, so no diploma no delivery.  

   At 5:38pm on April 2nd Dustin Charles was born into the world.  He looked like a football, 8lbs 15oz football.  It's amazing how you can love someone so much, that's only been alive a few minutes.  Once you have children, you realize exactly how much you will sacrifice for someone other than yourself....

Employment

  As you sit there reading this little tid bit of information that is a part of me, I want you to think back to your very first job. Maybe you had a paper route as a kid or didn't get your first job until high school. You could have started in a family business or flipping burgers in a fast food restaurant. What ever your initial endeavor may have been, how many jobs have you had since then?

  Some of you may still be in that first job, and others may have had to get through a couple different things before settling into your career.  Well whatever your destination in employment may have been and no matter what route you took to get to where you are, I have quite a story of my own.


  My first real job was when I was 14 and living in Winter Garden, FL.  I was fortunate enough to look older and hung around Hungry Howie's pizza until they finally gave me a job.  I thought it was the coolest thing in the world to be getting paid to make pizza and after a while I learned all the different aspects of running the restaurant.  With an unofficial title of Asst Manager, I was able to go in and open up in the morning or close at night with paperwork and all.  With running shifts, it meant I had to tell people twice my age what to do.  I was responsible for prep work, ordering supplies, making pizzas, and handling cash and daily paperwork.  My paychecks weren't huge making $2.95 an hour, but it helped my mom a little.


  The trip from my first job at that little pizza place on the corner in a small suburb of Orlando to being a Personal Assistant/Certified Surgical Technologist for an Orthopedic Surgeon today has been a long and twisty road.  As you look over my past work history not only you see a numerous amount of jobs, but the variety is quite outstanding.  Starting out in food service was a no brainer.  Pizza was just the beginning, and I hit all the major pizza places, Domino's...Pizza Hut...Little Caeser's a few times...Papa John's...Sbarro's...and Godfather's


  Of course with food service you have to hit the mainstream, including McDonald's...Taco Bell...Wendy's...Burger King...Subway... and Arby's.  But there were also some not so well known like Captain D's and Flamer's Burgers.  At one point, I was going to open a Sobik's sub shop in a mall food court, but the financing fell through and it never got anywhere.


  Then there was the retail side of things.  Wal-mart, K-mart, Joann Fabrics, and convenient stores.  I was an Asst Manager for 7-Eleven at a little neighborhood store in Orlando, where I was held up 4 times in a 3 month period.  At one point I sold Christmas stockings at a kiosk in the middle of a mall.  It was part of the job to write the name on the stocking with Elmer's glue and glitter.


  Some other job choices I checked out while I was trying to raise a family could be seen as questionable.  I worked briefly as a 'doorman' at a club where the patron's were mostly men and clothing was less then necessary for the women on stage.  Another employment opportunity I had that didn't land on any resume was at a video rental store.  The only thing this store had in common with your local Blockbuster rental was it had tapes to rent.  It was a 24 hour rental establishment and if it was legal porn we offered it.  I never knew there were so many different categories in porn, or the clientele that rented it.  I would have people stop in on their way to church to drop off their 'selections' from the previous night.  It got me through school, but I don't think I would want another job that has to have a sign on the bathroom door that says, 'If you are in the restroom longer than 15 minutes we are calling the police'.


  My first job in healthcare was as a Medical Lab Assistant.  I work as a Specimen Processor for Quest Diagnostics.  It was my job to prepare bodily fluids to be tested for various reasons.  After a year I decided I wanted something more.  I remembered that on the same floor where I took my MLA classes was the Surgical Technologist program.  I applied and was granted an interview with the instructor.  Her name was Betty Arnett and she had a definite passion for the role of a CST(Certified Surgical Technologist).  This passion and discipline was what she intended to instill on her students.  The year I spent in her class taught me more than just about the medical aspect of my career choice.  I learned about responsibility, confidence and self respect.  I took everything and hit the ground running, but with running can come stumbling and I did that.  I went through several hospitals over the next 6 yrs.  Everything from Trauma One Centers down to quaint Ambulatory Surgery Centers.  After years of experience and having done at least one surgery on every part of the body, both in every age group and gender I settled down at hospital that was world renowned for its Total Joint Surgeons and Colorectal Care.  I had found my niche and its now the longest job I have ever had.  On my third anniversary I made a big deal and bought Arby's for everyone.  I am now working on year number eight and have moved from working in the OR all the time to working for one of the Total Joint Surgeons. I get to work with the patients in the office setting as well as assisting in surgery.

Hungry Howie's     *McDonald's     Wendy's     *Burger King

Taco Bell     *Subway     Domino's     Papa John's     Pizza Hut

Captain D's     Flamer's Burgers     Sobik's Subs     Big Lake Restaurant

Stockings,Inc     Walgreen's     CVS     Kmart     *Wal-Mart

Big Foot Convenient store    *7-Eleven     Jiffy Lube     Exotic Video

Crazy Girl's     Sbarro's pizza     *Little Caeser's     Arby's  

Godfather's pizza     Orlando Regional Medical Center

Health Central Medical Facility     Wishard Memorial Hospital

Joann Fabrics     St Francis Hospital     Columbus Regional Hospital

RN Specialties     Quest Diagnostics     St Vincent Hospital

South Emerson Surgery Center     Door to Door perfume sales

Volunteers of America     ABC Fine Wine and Spirits
Winn-Dixie   Sand Lake Hospital

  I would really like to elaborate on so many of the things I have seen in all my careers, but I would never get this posted if I tried.  Hopefully one day I will get around to sharing some of the more interesting things.  And as far as my careers in the future, the only change I would make is becoming a Nurse to enhance the job I currently have.  Otherwise I am happy right where I am....

Welfare...

   As far as I am concerned, welfare is meant to assist you in times of need.  I don't believe it was ever meant to be your total income.  When I first started out with my first wife and 2 small boys, there was a time that we utilized the welfare system.  Both my sons were born on the medicaid system, and benefited from the formula, cereal and milk that we picked up from the store with a W.I.C. check once a month.  And even though I always had a job, we qualified for the food stamps.  
   Let me tell you, the neat little 'ebt' card welfare recipients get now a days is no where as embarrassing as pulling out your booklet of food stamp coupons.  Every cashier always looked at you like you should just kill yourself now and save the tax payers money.

A little sample of Food Stamp Coupons

  The most embarrassing time happened when we were visiting my ex-in laws in Jacksonville, FL.  They were pretty comfortable financially and lived in a neighborhood to match.  While we were there we decided to run up to the local grocery store to get some things for lunch.  When I went to check out, the cashier thought I was trying to pull a fast one with fake money.  She had never seen food stamps before, but knew there was a button on her register that was labeled FOOD STAMP.  After 2 managers and another cashier pulled out an instruction booklet from the back office, they figured out how I could spend my food stamp coupons.  They actually joked about how it was a good learning experience for them.  That day I swore I was going to find a way to get off of any kind of assistance and never go back.
   So, to get on assistance was quite an undertaking.  I had to take a day off work because it was a whole day deal.  We would take the Orlando city bus to the welfare office in a neighboring suburb called Pine Hills.  This particular route was one of the few that required a double bus, which was basically two buses connected by what looked like an accordion. 

Using this as a sample of the double bus

   The bus itself was not bad, but being the only 4 white people on the bus seemed a little over whelming.  Then when you finally got to the office, it was a very painful process to go through 4 times a year.  Oh, and to add insult to injury while we stood there in the Florida heat, so hot people were selling cold soda for $2 a can, other welfare recipients were pulling into the parking lot to get in line for there monthly allotment.  Driving brand new Caddies and Buicks unnoticed by anyone that it should matter too.  

   There were times we found ourselves living in different parts of the state and my first wife went in to the local office in Okeechobee to update some information.  As soon as the case worker learned we were not living in the same house she tried to get my first wife to sign up for monetary assistance to help with bills and rent.  And to subsidize this assistance they were going to hunt me down and garnish my wages.  The wages that were already paying bills and such.

   Welfare has its place, and is a good thing, but I think it has become over abused and a source of income instead of assistance....

Home is where the heart is....

   I have lived in many different places over the years, from houses to apartments, mobile homes to a garage.  Where I live now is the best place I have ever laid my head to sleep.  Yes it took me a long time to get to where I am now, but the work was worth it.  To some, my house is pretty simple and minor compared to others, but I Love my castle just the same.   Saying this is the best place I have lived in gives sign to the many other structures I have called home. 

   Of course I started out in a great home in the wonderful state of Maine.  My parents had made a home in a strong house near the ocean surrounded by a forest of trees.  It was where my life began and I spent the first 8 yrs of life.  Where I made my first best friend Brent, and where I gashed my foot open on broken soda bottles that I had broken just because I could.  Cutting my foot did help decide the new family car, since I bled all over the backseat of the station wagon my mom was test driving.  It was all I knew as a home until my parents decided it would be a good idea to move to Florida.  Over the next 8 yrs of living with my mom, we lived in several houses, duplexes and mobile homes. 

   One place was in a town called Tangerine.  Basically, a blip on the side of a highway in the middle of nowhere.  It was a duplex surrounded by an orange grove that was inhabited by wild dogs.  You had to be careful if you went out into the grove because the dogs were no where near domesticated and were always looking for food.  My little sister and I attended a school mostly attended by kids from the local grove workers that were mexican immigrants.  So there was a lot of spanish going on around you and you didn't understand a thing.  We didn't stay there long,  but there are a few memories, good and bad I still retain from that blip.

   Another point of interest was a house my mom rented on the corner of 23rd St and Woods Ave in Orlando.  We were a little over a block from a main road known as Orange Blossom Trail.  A road filled with strip clubs and prostitutes.  That life normally stayed out on the trail, but one night a hooker was being stabbed by an unknown assailant and my mom ran out and yelled at the man to stop what he was doing.  The guy ran off and my mom called 911.  Another glimpse into the neighborhood we lived in, I was the only white kid in 6th grade.  Talk about pick your friends carefully.  Oh and as a side note: Don't pass gas in class when one of the top ten r&b songs at the time is She Dropped a Bomb on me.

   At the age of 14, I was living with my Mom and Sister Amy in a quadraplex in Winter Garden, Florida that was kind of behind a strip mall.  It was owned by a middle eastern couple who also owned an ice cream shop a few miles away.  It was also a couple blocks from my first place of employment, Hungry Howie's Pizza.  It was the place I learned a lot about life.  My first boss Kenny was an 18 yr old guy who was learning about becoming a man, and I was watching from the sideline.  Of course I wasn't only watching the good side of his education.  I was a freshmen in Jr High, and trying to do my own in school, but my main life was happening in that little pizza place in a suburb of Orlando.  This was where I met the young lady that not only took my virginity, but gave me gonorrhea in my eye.  I was an asst mgr and busting out pizzas.  Telling people two and three times my age what to do.  While we were living in this place, my mom ended up needing to have surgery and I had to stay with my older sister Chrissy for a while.  During this stay I had my first chance to drive a car.  I ran to the store for Chrissy and when I pulled back into her apartment complex some kids ran out in front of me.  When I turned to avoid them I accidentally hit the gas instead of the brake and slammed into my moms car.  Ooops!

   For the next couple of years I bounced back and forth from Okeechobee to Orlando.  Met my first wife in Okeechobee, ended up becoming a father and made a 'home' in the garage of my future mother-in-law's house.  After surviving that we packed up and headed back to Orlando.  One of the places we lived in was a 12x60 trailer.  To call it a mobile home would be too nice.  It was in an over cramped trailer park right off good ol' Orange Blossom Trail. But it was a place we could afford while I went to school.  Just some of the amenities included the kitchen counter made out of a piece of plywood with a sink cut into it.  As a bonus there was a piece of fabric tacked across the front to cover the huge hole in the floor under the sink.  Yes you could see the ground under the trailer by moving the fabric.  Our next door neighbors were a gay couple, and their trailer was 5 feet away from ours.  When they stepped out their front door they were looking in our living room window.  We could have evenings of conversations without leaving our trailers.  There was a scary she-man hooker that would stand out at the entrance of the trailer park and actually get picked up.  People would walk around from trailer to trailer and offer to buy food stamps from anyone who was willing.  The going rate at the time was $10 cash for $20 in food stamps.  One cold night I went to get something out of the car and noticed a young girl walking around in about nothing.  Obviously realizing why she was out this late, wearing as little as she was, I offered her some hot chocolate.  She sat on front step enjoying the warm drink and told me what I figure is the truth about how she ended up where she was and where she planned to go.  I do wonder if she ever got where she was headed.

   There are several other places I have called home over the years, and I may revisit this subject again at some point, but for now this is all I have....

Incarcerations...

   There are 3 times in my life where I have spent more than a comfortable amount of time in jail.  Being a member of the Orlando Police Explorers and learning about about law enforcement didn't make it any easier.  I really enjoyed my time as an Explorer and learned a lot about being a police officer, but apparently it didn't teach me about staying out of trouble.

   Two times were somewhat similar, both were arrests for DWLS, driving while license suspended.  As to why my license had the misfortune of not being legal had to do with some bad choices I made.  As to how I ended up getting busted, well....

   First time, I had just pulled up to a stop sign, driving a 1967 Ford Mustang. As I was looking to see when I could jump out in traffic, I was rear-ended from behind.  I got out to see what happened, to find a VW Bug with a smashed in front fender.  The guy got out and started yelling at me.  I yelled back that he hit me, and had no business yelling at me about his car.  A few minutes later, an officer showed up, apparently someone must have called from an area office since it was 1992 and not too many people had mobile phones.  Anyway, the officer took our stories, and decided the accident had to be my fault because I had a suspended license.  I should not have been on the the road in the first place, plus backing into the gentleman in the nice VW was icing on the cake.  Of course officer, as I was sitting at a stop sign waiting to jump out into traffic I just happened to throw it into reverse and slam into the unlucky bastard behind me.  Well, as it turns out, I was arrested and taken down to the city jail.  Luckily, my car was left in a parking spot near by the scene of the accident and not towed to the impound lot.  

   This happens to be the first time I had ever been arrested, so I was pretty scared when I was placed in a holding cell with several other less than acceptable looking guys who were there for God knows what.  I remember that I was freezing and since everything was concrete, there was no comfortable place to sit.  I ended up sitting on the floor and falling asleep.  It was several hours later when I woke up and the cell was empty.  Upon arriving I was told I would be released on my own recognizance, and it wouldn't take long.  Six hours in, I started yelling out the door for the 'CO' (aka Correction Officer) to find out what was going on.  It's one thing to be in a holding cell with a few other people, but it seems a lot creepier when you are left alone.  Eventually, someone decided to file my report and a 'CO' came and woke me out of my slumber by yelling my name several times.  Locked up for 11 hours was something I never wanted to do again, and after being booked and photographed I was sent out with a court date.  
   
   The second time I was busted for DWLS I was helping out a friend.  Sitting at home minding my own business, I get a call from a friend who was several months pregnant.  She was working at a fast food place about 5 miles from my current location and had fell on the wet floor.  She was concerned about her baby and wanted me to come take her to her doctor to get checked out.  I told her I had a suspended license, but she said there was no one else she could call.  So I went.  At first it was quite uneventful, drove to her work and picked her up.  She said she was feeling better and would be glad if I could just take her home.  That sounded great to me since she lived in the same neighborhood as my parents where I was staying.  I figured I made it here I could just as well get back to the confines of our little quiet neighborhood.
   As luck would have it, just a couple lights before the turn to head towards home and safety, I get the Whoop-Whoop from behind me.  I didn't understand really, there was a lot of traffic so I knew I wasn't speeding.  Hadn't made any illegal lane changes, so I was pretty stumped to my situation.  I did what you are suppose to do and I pulled over into a mall parking lot.  When the officer came up to my vehicle, he seemed very cautious about everything and I was getting nervous.  As he got to my window I blurted out, 'Officer, my license is suspended, but my friend here fell at work and was worried about her baby, so the only reason I am on the road is because I was just trying to help her.'  Funny thing was, as much as I was shitting myself, he suddenly seemed more relaxed.
   He looked at Kim and asked how she was doing and if she needed and ambulance.  She said no, everything was fine and was on her way home. UGH!!  He then opened my door and asked that I come with him.  We walked to the back of my car and he stared at me for a minute.  For those of you that have been pulled over in a busy section of town, you realize how embarrassing it can be, but it seems much worse when you are standing behind your car being talked to by the officer.  He asked where I was two nights past, and how long I had my car.  I told him I was at home with my parents because my license was suspended and I recently purchased the primer colored rust bucket about a month prior.  The rust bucket in question was a Ford Maverick 302 that was painted primer green and grey over the original brown.  It wasn't much to look at, but the 4 barrel carb sitting on that beauty of an engine could still cause rust to flake off at every stomp of the gas pedal or 'foot feed' as my Step dad called it.
   After a brief uneasiness on my part from the once over, the officer said he had pulled me over because my car matched the description of one used in a jewelry robbery.  Though after he stopped me, he realized it was not the car they were looking for.  And since this wasn't my first time getting busted for DWLS he was going to have to haul me in.  Since he was in a 'good mood' he was going to let Kim drive my car to my house instead of it getting impounded.  But he and I had to wait until a cruiser could come get me since he was FHP and drove a Mustang.  So after discussing it with Kim, she drove off headed for home and I was left handcuffed standing in the Fashion Square Mall parking lot.
   Fifteen minutes into waiting and sharing stories about the 302 cubic inches of power we each had in our rides, the officer decided it was taking to too long for a cruiser to respond.  He looked at me and said I looked like a decent enough fella and would let me ride in the Mustang with him.  If I moved in any wrong way though, he would shoot the smile off my face.  Come to think of it, I don't really remember being in a smiling mood, but he thought it was a good threat.
   Not much else was different this time from the first time I visited this wonderful establishment.  Scary people sitting around waiting to find out their destinies, and I trying my best not to think about pooping since there were 15 men with one metal toilet to share.  And to top it off, if worse came to it, I would have to ask a guy to move who was using it as a seat since every other spot to sit was taken.  It wasn't as long this time, within 5 hours and I was again headed out with a court date and feeling like crap.   


   The third, and hopefully, final time I was in apprehended by 'The Man' was on a little known date of September 10, 2001.  Yep, you are now thinking, 'Where was I when this went down?'  Well, it was around 8pm on Monday September 10th, and I was coming around the west side of I465.  I had a little too much pressure on the 'Foot Feed' and the local constable took notice of my velocity.  I was sitting on the side of the interstate when the officer came up to the window and said I was exceeding the speed limit and requested my license and registration.  He took the items and returned to his cruiser.  A few minutes later he came back and asked if I knew there was a warrant for my arrest.  I did not have any idea what he was talking about.  He said it was a civil matter, and suggested that I might owe back child support.  At the time I was still married to my first wife, and looking over at her I asked 'Honey, is there something you want to tell me about?'  
   The officer then told me that since it was a civil matter, it wouldn't take long.  He would just run me down to the station and file some paperwork.  I should be home by midnight.  Of course this is not how it happened.  It was taking so long to get my paperwork ready, they decided I needed to spend the night.  I was lead to a stack of cushions, told to take the top one and move on.  Next, I was taken to a cell block that was already overcrowded, where all the beds were taking.  So I placed the cushion on the floor between bunks and laid down.  I never intended to fall asleep, but as it got closer to morning I must have dozed off.
   Bright and early the next morning, I was called out of the cell block and directed to 'Medical'.  First, I was informed that I had a bench warrant out for 'Failure to Appear' at I court date I knew nothing about.  See, two years previously I had abandoned an apartment in Columbus, Indiana with my wife and children and moved to Indianapolis.  At the time I didn't really think much about it.  I figured they would ding my credit and make it hard for me to get another apartment, not try and sue me in civil court.  The fact that they didn't have a forwarding address left me unknowingly missing my court dates and leading to the situation I was in.  Next, I was told that I was to be held in Marion County Lockup until transportation could be arranged to extradite me to Bartholomew county to have my day in court.  Then I was taking to stand in line where I would be asked several questions about my medical history.  While several of us 'inmates' stood waiting in line watching a couple of tv's across the room.  Reports of the first plane hitting the WTC tower was breaking in to what ever happened to be droning on that morning.  Of course the room got louder with the conversation of what the tv was reporting.  Lots of speculation about the bad pilots that airlines were hiring now a days and such.  All of a sudden someone was screaming on the tv and they were showing the second airplane as it seemed to float right into the second tower.  The previous hub bub of conversation suddenly got more intense in the tight area where we were lined up, but we still stood in line and took our turns at different cubicles answering questions about our sexual encounters and family orientations.  Before I was sent back to the cell block that was temporarily my place of residence, there were more reports about other planes and various damage.
   I took up my position on the cushion on the floor and was watching as people were playing Euchre and checkers and discussing the planes.  Not sure how they smuggled a marker in, but I guess if the one guy snorting coke off the floor got it in, a marker was nothing.  With use of ripped up small paper bags and the marker, someone made a couple decks of playing cards and drew a chess board on the floor.  About mid afternoon, we were told that they had evacuated the entire City-County building which housed the little lock up we were held in, and left us in the capable hands of the local SWAT.  First, I would just like to point out that the terrorists were attacking major cities, and as wonderful as Indianapolis may be, I doubt it plays very high on lists of cities to attack. Second, SWAT doesn't get out to play much and this was just the thing that gave them something to play with.  Tuesday around 5 pm, SWAT came in the cell block and started collecting items of interest, things inmates shouldn't have in their possession.  They noticed I was laying on the floor with my body length cushion and asked why I didn't have a boat?  I said I didn't know what they meant by a boat and I was only given the cushion.  I was then escorted down the hall to a stack of plastic 'boats'.  And I do believe if you set it on water it would float.  It basically looked like a wide canoe and the cushion I already had in my possession fit perfectly in the bottom.  It was quite an improvement from being directly on the floor, plus gave me a better place to hide my lace-less shoes.  
   While I was sitting in jail, my first wife was calling around trying to find out when I was going to get moved to Bartholomew County and released so I could get back to work.  Apparently, no one from Marion County informed Bartholomew County that I had been apprehended.  And when she called them, it was the first they had heard about it.  As it would happen, I had to sit in Marion County Lockup until Thursday afternoon before I was transported to Bartholomew County Jail.  Talk about the difference of night and day.  Marion County fed the inmates pimento loaf bologna sandwiches three times a day with a side of donuts and milk for breakfast and cookie and unlabeled fruit punch for lunch and dinner.  When I arrived at Bartholomew around dinner time I was treated to a cafeteria style 'hot' food tray and a hot shower ALONE.  It was quite an experience, not one I plan on trying again.  Walking in shackles sucks, but hearing everyone's stories of how they got there, the level of their innocence and what they plan on doing when they got out was quite intriguing.  So when I hear people talk about where they were on 9/11 I have to say I was in jail....

Wrong end of a gun...

   There are many times I have been on the right end of a gun.  Hunting with my  Step-Dad, gun range at the police station in Orlando, shooting things out of trees with the Dad of one of my high school girlfriends and the great and wonderful pellet gun I had as a teenager.  I loved that pellet gun until I got in trouble for shooting my little sister, also the neighbors dog and big bulb Christmas lights around the house.  But lest I forget that the title of this page is about being on the wrong end of a gun...
   Of course when your little and you have a Daisy pump action b-b gun in your possession its bound to end up in a sibling or friends hand, which in turn gets turned on you.  Especially after you have pelted them a few times first.
   Then there is the a fore mentioned Dad of a high school girlfriend who happened to listen in on a dialogue on the phone one late night and decided he had enough of certain young man climbing in his daughters window.  I unsuspectingly walked up to her window, slid it open, and before I could reach in and shake her awake like I had done several times before... "BAMMM"
   There really is no sound like a 12 gauge shot gun going off within 2 feet of you when you are not prepared for it,and I couldn't remember a time prior to that where I thought my life was ending, but apparently I was not dead even though I was suddenly on the ground involuntarily.  As I look up 'Dad' shoves the 12 gauge in my ear and says,"Don't move the cops are on their way."
   Laying on the ground, I noticed that in his back pocket was the 22 revolver I had bought the bastard for his birthday.  Guess I am glad he didn't use it first.  After what seemed like an eternity of him, his wife, and the girlfriend yelling back and forth over me, the squad car arrived.  The officers came up and took me to their car and sat me in the back seat.  Then they returned to discuss the situation with the girlfriends family.  About 10 minutes later, they came back, drove me to my car down the block and said that since I was 18 and she was 17 and 10 months that it wasn't statutory rape, but I hadn't heard the end of it.  About a week later a sheriff came to get me and drove me to see the Asst Attorney General of Okeechobee County.  During our meeting I learned that a 500 yard restraining order had been imposed between me and the girlfriend.  Which was silly at best because we had the same classes in school and worked at the same fast food restaurant, but I also ended up being charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor that never actually stuck in the long run.


    Few years later I started working at a little known convenient store with 2 numbers in the name.  During one shift, a guy walked in and showed me his gun inside his jacket and explained that he was going to go over and look at magazines, I was suppose to push the buttons on the time lock safe that dropped twenties, tens and fives every two minutes to make change.  Since it took two minutes before I could push the next button it took almost an hour to get all the money out of the safe.  I was also told not to make any cash drops while customers continued to purchase items over the hour he read various magazines.  Since it was midday I was the only one on shift and our panic button was in the back near the entrance to the cooler.  Since this was the early 90's, the stores idea of video surveillance was a 35mm camera staged inside a fake speaker mounted on a shelf behind the counter.  If the right money was pulled out of the drawer, the camera would automatically start snapping pictures.  This guy knew about this particular security and when it was time for him to leave he had me empty all the paper money I had in the drawer except that particular $5 bill.  Not long after that incident I became one of the managers and spent a lot of hours on the graveyard shift.  And a few months into the new shift there were two of us working, but the other guy on the shift was in stocking the cooler.  It was pretty quiet and I was filling the cigarettes in the over head bins.  I heard the door bell of someone coming in and when I raised the cigarette bin so I could assist the customer all I saw was gun.  He told me to empty the drawer and grabbed some stuff we had sitting out on the counter.  I took every bill I had out of the drawer, and as soon as I removed the special $5, the camera behind me started taking pictures.  Not sure if it was because it was older than dirt or because of the moment, but it was the loudest camera I had ever heard.  'CLICK' 'RRRRRRRRRR' 'CLICK' 'RRRRRRRRRR' over and over till it went through a whole roll of film.  I thought for sure he heard it, but he was more concerned with getting the money and running.  When the cops showed up, the only thing I could remember was that the gun was a revolver, very large and black.  And the noisy camera you ask?  Was angled wrong and took pictures of the friggin cigarette bin above my head.  One other time during my time as a convenient store manager, a man walked in, fixed himself a large soda and grabbed a sandwich.  Walked up to the register, showed me his handgun and had me empty the drawer.  After handing him the money, he apologized and left.  The girl that was working with me that night was coming out of the back just as he pulled out his gun.  In her wisdom, she stayed out his line of sight, but was able to get a good description of him.  When I left the next morning she stayed on to help with the morning rush.  That morning, during the hustle of coffee and donuts, he came back in wearing his work uniform.  She immediately recognized him and after he left she told the manager on duty who he was based on his uniform and the name badge he was wearing.


   I could go on about other negative times that I have been around guns, but we will save that for another blog....

Tree Pics...

Today was a very important day in the Wortman Domain.  One that we do every year.  It is what we like to call 'Tree Pic Day.'  It has become a tradition that we go to the same nature park and take pictures every year of the children in the same tree.  

2005

   

   Above is the initial installment of the Tree Pic, and everyone fit well in the small tree.  Of course, as you will notice, our level of camera with get better over time.  Its an event that lasts a couple of hours and spreads out over the whole main area of the park.  

2006

   As you can see above, it's amazing what just one year can make.  All four children still fit on the tree, but you can see it getting a little tighter.  

2007

   The years just seem to keep flying by as the children continue to come into their own.  Its amazing to realize how much they have grown in just one year.  They fill the tree more and more.

2008

   This will be Dustin's last year in the tree, because he has become a strapping young man and causing the tree limb to bend significantly.  The girls weight on the branch doesn't help much.

   

2009

   A few changes this year.  Dustin is standing now, and the branch that Brad always held onto was broken off during the year.  The girls have gotten a lot bigger and the picture quality has improved.

2009

   The above picture was also taken in 2009 as one of the other pictures we always include throughout the day.  As you can see the kids really get into this event.  This particular picture, the kids were just throwing leaves everywhere, but if you look closely, when Annie took the picture she caught an amazing anomaly.  The leaves make a 'heart' shape above the kids.

2010

2011

    As for now this is the last picture in this line up, and as you can see the kids are quite grown up.  Dustin is 20, Brad in the tree is 19, and the girls Aramys is 8 and Kendalyn is 11.  They are my beautiful children and I would never give them up for anything.  And I especially want to give a big round of applause to my dear Annie who has taken almost all of the pictures every year....

Above Annie is in the middle of our children, and a recent addition to the pic, Annie's Second Cousin Samantha...

2012 

Welcome to 2012 and the tree pic of the year.  As you can see there have been some considerable changes over the last 12 months.  

 This year the 4way stop is now a 5pointed star... From 12'clock clockwise is Dustin(21) Sammi(20), Kendalyn(12), Brandon(20), and Aramys(9)

This years latest addition to the troops is Sammi's wonderful little boy, Scott(2.5mos)
As you can see, it was a little chilly out for the pics, and he is sporting a red nose and rosey cheeks...

Above is one of the best pics I think I have taken... Not because of the quality as much as the content...

This is one of the only pics of the entire brood...

It took another tree, my iPhone with a timer on the camera and some electrical tape to get...

 2013

Now for 2013 and the tree pic of the year.  Unbelievable the changes that have occurred.  As with pictures in the past, Sammi and Mr Scott are in with the 'kids'...

Mr Scott sitting in the same crook in the tree he was in last year, looking a LOT bigger...

 He is such a great little boy with a happy spirit...

 Mr Scott and his Momma.  Great shot taking by Annie.

And here is the crazy bunch once again...

Thank you for stopping by...

As the years go by I will continue to add each years picture to this blog....thanks for stopping by....

   Christmas is a time of love and family; Lights, trees, and presents.  Well for most families, some families choose to celebrate it in different ways.  Others don't acknowledge it at all.  It can be a spiritual enlightening or a time of remembrance   There are families that spend way more than they should, and others who scrape every dime just to put together a little something for their children.  In my life, I have been in various circumstances when it comes to Christmas.  
   When I was really little, Christmas was a big deal that started before Thanksgiving.  I remember having a couple dozen friends and family over.  Adults at the main dining table and all the kids at the kitchen table.  It was quite chaotic at times, but then so are most holiday get togethers.  Christmas day was amazing to see for a little boy.  Our tree was set up in the living room, and it was always real.  A tree that we cut down ourselves I believe from our own property, but not always sure.  It was nothing like the Griswold's when it came to tree cutting.  It was pretty straight forward and without much incident. But when you are small all trees look great when fully decorated, all lit up with lights and surrounded by so many brightly colored packages.

   One year, as we were out looking for a tree, I was left in the truck alone.  At first it was no big deal, but being in the middle of a forest with weird noises can really drive your imagination.  After what seemed like forever, I began screaming out the truck window for who ever would listen.  A few minutes later my Sister's husband came to the truck and started giving me crap about being scared and not being able to stay in the truck.  He got in and after a few minutes, forced me to give him a hand job.  I was about 6 or 7 at the time and he scared me into not telling.  Merry Christmas....

   Other Christmases over the years were better, but varied in levels.  A couple years after we moved to Florida, my Dad had his strokes and couldn't work.  The income in the household dropped considerably and Christmas was quite a stretch for my Mom, but she still manage to make it wonderful for us kids.  Christmas and Easter was very important to my mom and no matter where we lived at the time, she made sure we celebrated them.

   Same can be said for my children, I have lived in some pretty bad places over the years, but we always celebrated the holidays.  Even if we had to get a free Christmas tree from a tree lot.  Something looking not much better then Charlie Brown's tree.  Of course when you stick the dead section in the corner of your trailer it didn't look to bad.  Another year I bought green tissue paper, taped several together, and cut out a two tree shapes.  Taping the two shapes together and stuffing it with newspaper we had a tree.

   Of course, now that life has worked itself into a much better situation.  Christmas is a little easier to come by for the kids.  My tree is now a fake one, that is much more practical to use every year.  And the kids are the main focus of the season, but not beyond our means.  As for me, I still love the smell of Pine Trees and want to put as many lights on the house that I can....

   I still remember all the different Christmases over the years and how we celebrated it with Love and Family, no matter the 'package' the Holiday came in....