Out on the flight line doing a daily, generally apprehensive about going to Neurology tomorrow. Been getting damn
headaches again, worse than the ones before. Gotten to the point now where I cannot concentrate, enough that driving is
out of the question. This poses a concern in that they strike at random, and having one manifest itself when I'm in the middle
a work week I find scary at a minimum. Suppose I'll find out tomorrow what the deal is, if we get out of here before four in the
morning. We're already late, (we were supposed to be off at eight,) and the maintenance control isn't happy.
Daily complete, rotor head accumulator low. Still not done with the rest of the maintenance we have to do for the
evening. Airframes has to finish installing a new tie rod which is, (typically,) not going at all well. I've got some IFF
video problem that seemingly defies all logic, reason, and spare parts applied during troubleshooting. Half a mind to
drive home, get the H&K, drive back and blow some holes in the boxes and call it even.
Paperwork problems as usual holding everything up. Trying to get the last little bits of it squared so my crew and I can
call it a night. I hate being the shop supervisor with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns. I see these guys busting
their asses for me and I can do nothing except ask them to push a little more and give. Sigh.
Have to be at Neurology in two hours. The plan goes something like this: Take an hour nap, drive in, change, get my
medical record and then have the brain pan looked at by someone who, in theory, knows what they're doing.
Son of a... Alarm? Yeah, slept right through it. Call work, tell them I missed my appointment, call neurology and make
excuses. They're surprisingly fluid and put me on the waiting list again. Then I find out why, it will more than likely be
upwards of thirty days before I have another chance for an appointment. Until then, I don't know.
Tools checked, back at work. Maintenance meeting in fifteen minutes. Questions as to why I didn't make it from various
people. Well, you work seventeen hours and see if you can drag yourself out of bed after an hour's sleep. Bird on the way
in, plug the mini disc player into the cranial, hand the book off to someone else and wander out to the line. Need to relax
right now, someone else can deal with pass down for the minute. Directing planes while mellowing out to the last half of
Paul Oakenfold's 'Tranceport' I think is precisely what I need right now.
Really wanted to make that appointment, really needed to make that appointment. Scary sensation knowing
there is something very wrong, and no matter how many wrenches, screwdrivers, soldering irons, oscilloscopes,
signal generators, rubber mallets, torque wrenches and large pieces of yellow test equipment you have at your
disposal, you're powerless to do nothing.