New oven gloves

As strange as it may seem, I've had quite a few problems with oven gloves in the past years. I had one good set of gloves but they got burnt when I held them too close to the flame on the gas rings. This of course compromised their ability to shield the wearer from heat so I was forced to throw them out. I find also that repeated laundry causes the gloves to shrink slightly each time.

Since then, my wife occasionally comes home with new gloves when I complain, but these have all been unsuitable, primarily because they are too small. Last week she came home with a pair that looked like the mouth of cartoon characters: I could (barely) put my hands inside the gloves and have them talking to each other. Apart from their entertainment value, these gloves are useless as they are too small.

So I thought that I would try my luck on the Internet: a few nights ago I came across the gloves pictured above that are being sold at a reasonable price, although delivery costs almost doubled the cost. They arrived today at my home, about 36 hours after they were ordered, so at least the delivery was efficient. The gloves are nice and big, although a little bigger wouldn't have hurt. 

I looked at the gloves - and at the picture - and see that there is a problem regarding the picture on the gloves. Presumably to save money, all the gloves have the picture printed on what could be the inner side of the left glove (or outer side of the right glove); when one puts on the gloves, one glove has the picture on the inside and one the outside, instead of both on the inside (or outside). In other words, instead of producing enantiomers, they have produced identical copies. Oh well. I suppose that it doesn't really matter that much, but I'm surprised that no one has noticed.

I have just looked at all the oven gloves for sale on the company's site and they all suffer from the same printing problem. Obviously I'm finicky.

Back to the graveyard

My first kibbutz had a tradition that every newly married couple would receive a statuette from the couple who last got married. I don't remember now what the statuette itself was, maybe some pagan symbol of fertility, but I do remember that it stayed with us for some time. Of course, in those days, a kibbutz wedding was a rare event, not like today when there are so many weddings and none are held on the kibbutz.

This tradition found its way into my mind yesterday when I attended the funeral of a kibbutz member, Uri (almost 90 years old); I was the last kibbutz member to be bereaved and here I was, passing the bereavement onto another family. There was a certain similarity between my father's condition and Uri's, who actually was hospitalised in the same hospital as my father, albeit a floor above. Both his wife and one of his daughters came to visit us during the mourning period and all of us recognised that there was no return from Uri's condition.

At the beginning of Uri's funeral, I felt some of the emotions that I had tried to repress during my father's funeral; I felt tears in my eyes. But unlike my father's funeral, eulogies came from the widow, from all four children, one grandchild, a few other kibbutz members and even a few songs sung by the family (who sing well but were accompanied by a slightly out of tune guitar). In other words, this was one of the l-o-n-g funerals that cause 'the audience' to lose interest and thus respect. I fully understand why the family members felt compelled to speak, but in such cases maybe it would be better to restrain some of the unconnected kibbutz members who like the sound of their own voice.

This was not my first visit back to the graveyard since my father's funeral, but actually my third this week! I went up on Monday to see whether the stone had been laid on the grave; it had not. Then again on Tuesday when I saw the the stone had indeed been laid.

One of the Jewish traditions regarding mourning is that male mourners do not shave until the stone is laid, 30 days after the funeral. I developed quite a full white beard in this time that most of the time did not bother me, but I found it annoying when wearing a mask, so it was with some relief that I shaved most of the beard off this morning. It still needs thinning and trimming but at least wearing a mask won't be so itchy.

Adrenal venous sampling (2)

Yesterday I underwent the long awaited procedure that I described a few months ago; actually I only made the appointment 12 days ago so I didn't have to wait too long in that sense.

As instructed, I arrived at the clinic within the hospital at 7:30am, after not having eaten or drunk anything since the previous evening. As I was the first to arrive, there was no delay in processing, although a lack of curtains around the cubicles meant that I had to wait before changing into a hospital gown (the curtains are washed over the weekend then put back on Sunday morning - I was simply too early for this). Despite having done a blood test on Thursday for potassium (an element that is expected to be low because of the hyperaldosteronism), I suspect that the staff did not believe the good level that my test showed and so I had to do another blood test. Nothing could proceed until these results returned.

At about 10:30 am, the blood test results returned: the potassium level was slightly lower than it was on Thursday, but still a good value. The next step was being hooked up to an infusion containing artificial aldosterone; the nurse said that infusing the hormone would cause my body to create even more, thus improving the level of detection in the test. Here's the explanation: Some diagnostic centers prefer to pharmacologically stimulate the adrenal glands with an infusion of cosyntropin (a synthetic version of ACTH) to ensure that veins are adequately sampled. I had been reading a book on the Kindle, but as the battery had died, I switched to listening to music via a pair of headphones that I had brought with me. Looking back on this period, I realised later that I had fallen asleep for a while, as there were songs that I had missed hearing. It's good that I slept as it shows that I was relaxed.

Finally at 1 pm I was wheeled in to the room where the procedure would take place. After moving onto the fixed bed, I was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey: my arms were tied and heavy blankets  placed on all my body. Of course, it would not be good if I started moving once the procedure started, but after a while it became very uncomfortable. Because the catheter is inserted in my groin, I had to be shaved in this area, a not particularly pleasant operation. Again, because of the point of insertion, my "meat and two veg" (as Austin Powers called them) were on show for all, although they may have been covered up at some stage; I couldn't see anything, lying flat on my back. After shaving, the area had to be washed with soap and alcohol.

Eventually the procedure started via an ultrasound scan to locate the femoral vein in my right thigh; once this was located, I felt two sharp pricks that were due to local anaesthetic being injected. From this point on, there was no pain, but now and then there were uncomfortable moments that are hard to describe. There was a similar feeling to when I've had BCCs removed: again, local anaesthetic and then a feeling of pulling and pushing. The only pain came from my arms and eventually from my lower back as they complained about not moving. At one stage, breathing in caused a feeling that I can only describe as "fire in my right lung"; I reported this at the time and was told that it was natural to feel this. I asked the doctor who performed the procedure and he said that this happened when he injected some contrast into the veins; it also showed that I was definitely not allergic to iodine (there was some doubt about this).

Eventually, after having taken eight or nine blood samples, the doctor announced that we were nearly finished. A few more minutes of pushing and pulling and back pain and then it was all over. I looked at the clock and saw that it was now 2:30 pm; the procedure had lasted an hour and a half. Judging by other patients who were wheeled out and back in to the cubicles, my test lasted about three times longer than theirs.

I was told not to move my right leg for another hour which was fine by me; I was able to drink some water and even eat a roll that the hospital kindly provided for me. While I was eating the roll, the consultant whom I saw a month ago came in to see how I was, which was kind of him. He said that it will take about two weeks for the results to appear and will be sent to "my doctor"; I asked who my 'lead' doctor is: him, the nephrologist or even my family doctor, to which he smiled and said that we'll sort this out later. 

After an hour of not moving, I was allowed to move my leg but still stay in bed; only after another hour was I allowed to get up and get dressed. After a short exploratory walk, the doctor who performed the procedure appeared with my discharge letter. As hinted on the PA page (Because the right adrenal vein originates in the inferior vena cava (IVC), it is usually more difficult to canulate), the doctor noted that he was unable to canulate this vein but took samples from four surrounding veins. As the adenoma is on my left adrenal gland, this might seem problematic, but I assume that the doctors know what they are doing. 

I left the hospital at about 4:45 pm, which meant that I was there for just over nine hours: a good day's work. I felt weak but that was because of the stress and having been lying down all day. There were a few minutes in the evening when I felt a slight twinge of pain in my groin, but this was just the anaesthetic saying goodbye. I didn't sleep well yet again, but otherwise I'm fine and underwent the procedure with no problems.

Now I wait the results.

My father's eyes (slideshow)

After completing this song and recording it over the last weekend, I began to wonder what I could do with it. My first thought was that it would make a good candidate for the Yom Kippur evening of personal songs, should it take place this year, so I set about making an edited version of the song, or as I tend to call it, the 'single' version. Eight bars of introduction were cut along with the solo section in the middle and the guitar solo at the end. Even with the edits, this version plays for 3:50 minutes, making it a long 'single'. I removed certain parts from the MIDI file as they weren't needed in this version, and in so doing, I inadvertently removed a guitar part that I later put back. Adding the vocals to this version proved easier than I expected; the vocals are the same as the 'extended' (or original) but they appear at different places in the song (because of the missing eight bars of the introduction and the missing middle).

A later thought was to create a slideshow containing photos of my father, displaying them to the background of the song. At the normal time setting of five seconds per photo, I would need 230/5=46 photos, although in the end, I set the display time to six seconds per picture (38 photos needed). Whilst I have some photos of my father stored as jpg files, these are only from the past fifteen years and I really wanted older photos. 

So I set to work going through the photo albums that we salvaged from my father's flat. At some stage, someone (probably my mother) put photos in order and even wrote either in the album or on the photos' back when and where the photo was taken. But some of the albums were complete hodge-podges with no guarantee that photos on one page would have any connection to those on the next page. At least, the "early" years were consistent; I would take a photo out of the album (the earliest, from the war years, had special 'corner fixtures' to hold the photos; whilst it was fairly easy to extract a photo, it was hard to put it back) and scan it. 

I tried to get pictures from all eras of my father's life; I couldn't find anything pre-RAF, but there were plenty of pictures from the RAF of which I scanned only representative examples. The next photos were from my parents' wedding in 1952; these were in a fancy album and could not be extracted, so I had to place the entire album on the scanner's platen and hold it down during the scan. I was pleased to find some photos from their honeymoon and one or two of my parents outside of our old house in Cardiff. I was especially pleased to find a photo of my father and grandfather from this period, and one or two of my father with a young child (I couldn't tell whether this was me).

There were only a few pictures from the '60s that I could use; most of them were group pictures that I didn't want. Similarly, there were only a few from the '70s, at least in Britain. But there were plenty of photos from the various cruises that my parents went on with much variety of backgrounds.

After scanning all the pictures that I wanted (over a few evenings), I started putting together a slideshow in the old Movie Maker program. Indecision regarding the time that each picture be displayed caused me to create the slideshow three times; the second time around, I was sufficiently alert to write down the sequence of pictures that I had chosen so that the third time would be easier. I also miscalculated the number of pictures that I included originally, so I had to add more pictures to fill out the 3:50 minutes.

After completing what I would consider to be the 'first version' of the slideshow and sending a rough copy to the childen, I prepared to go to bed. On my way, however, I realised that the slideshow was missing a few essential photos from the past few years, so I jotted the names of the people in the photos on a piece of paper then tried to sleep. Indigestion and having the song play on endless repeat in my head meant that I didn't have a good night's sleep.

This morning, I asked the family if they had any good photos of my father along with our grand-daughter, and with his carer. My wife and daughter sent me several photos, some of which were better than the ones that I had, so I removed the less good pictures and inserted the new ones. After a few iterations of this (each time I would receive a new photo), I decided that I had the final version. I converted it to mp4 format and uploaded it to YouTube, where it can be seen here.

On the left appears a honeymoon picture, showing my father in a completely different light from the man that I knew (or thought I knew). 

It occurs to me that I could provide the video for the Yom Kippur evening (should it take place) as opposed to the audio. I originally intended the slide show for those that knew my father, but those attending the YK evening might well appreciate it as well.

Third covid-19 vaccine shot

Last Thursday, the Israeli government decided that in view of the rising number (again) of covid-19 infections, citizens over the age of 60 should have a third vaccine shot. As opposed to the first and second shots, this one is supposed to be effective immediately, multiplying the number of antibodies by at least five.

Some clinics started giving the vaccines on Saturday evening; on Sunday I booked our shots for Wednesday morning. I've now had the shot and I can feel the antibodies increasing as I type this (I jest). For some reason, my son seems to have joined the anti-vaccine group and queries why we had the shots 'without thinking'. It's still the same vaccine, and as nothing untoward happened as a result of having the first and second shots at the beginning of the year, there is no reason to suspect that something will happen now.

My current lifestyle makes getting infected an unlikely proposition, although my wife does go out more and of course she is in close contact with me. I'm still working at home and intend to carry on doing so unless 'ordered' to return to the office (I popped in for a few minutes the other day to print something and saw that nothing has yet been done with regard to erecting full walls around my workspace, so that won't act as a catalyst for my return). Apparently there is some possibility of yet another lock-down which will not affect me very much.

Yesterday was my 65th birthday! I can now travel on public transport for half price, provided that I get a new travel card. I had to retire my original travel card some years ago as several machines at the exits to railway stations had problems reading it; I then obtained an 'anonymous' card which has given me no problems. But my age (or something similar) has to be imprinted into the card so that it will 'know' that I am entitled to travel half price. Actually I won't be the primary recipient of the discount as I rarely travel for myself; 99% of my rail journeys are for work (I get refunded for tickets), and I've travelled only three times in the past 16 months.

The 'adrenal vein sampling' test will take place on Sunday, four days hence.