Friday, October 12, 2007

Not a good day (updated)

Overall, today sucked.

I woke up and took a shower. Good, right?

Well--most men my age look on the towel and are disheartened by seeing hair on it.

Me, I worry when I see blood.

This morning, blood. Lots of blood. From my right ear--the one blown out by the IED.

Went out into the bedroom, saw the pillow. LOTS more blood. Shit.

Got dressed, went across the street to the hospital. Called TRICARE, let them know I was about to go into the ER. No problem they tell me. Oh, did I mention I was in Reno, not back in PA?

Oh, that's a different region. There's gonna be trouble. So I alternate between flunkies and the Military severely Injured soldier network (big props go to them for sorting out the idjits running TRICARE.) And tricare tells me that yes, I can be seen. Great. Ever spend a long time on the phone when you can't change ears?

So I get seen. A small tear along the edge of the replacement eardrum. Probably a combination of a weakened eardrum from the cold I just got over, and the multiple plane ride pressure changes. They squirted in some steroid foam, and it should seal and protect the eardrum. When I mentioned my return flight on Sunday, the doctor told me to just hope for the best. That made me feel really good. Hope is my faqvorite method of ensuring my health, y'know.

So I goes to chow. The casino buffet at the circus circus had a bit to be desired last evening, so I opt for the one at harrahs, where I end up leaving my wallet... shit. All my OD, plastic, and the "fun money" food/room/etc, plus some for the craps table. $500 and change, which I had taken out before going to the hospital, in case TRICARE continued to be a pain in the ass.

You see, this trip started off so well- - made it to the airport early, checked all of my luggage and guns with no problems, and had a fairly enjoyable trip. Until I got to Reno, and my bags were returned. The luggage monkeys had destroyed my two TSA-approved combination locks, twisting one off on my gun case, and snapping the zippers off of my suitcase--as well as tearing out the zipper seams. For those who didn't know, this made my suitcase completely unservicable, as you MUST lock firearms in side a case, and then inside your suitcase (pistols, that is.)

So when I go to bitch, I am told that the TSA guys probably did the damage. And the airline can't do anything about my bag, because "it was old and that's normal wear and tear." Except that six hours earlier, it was in perfect condition. But no dice from them, it simply wasn't their fault.

So I am flat busted. No money, no ID (it'll be real fun trying to get on a plane, AND CHECK FIREARMS, with NO ID.) And a casino isn't real big on "trust me, I'm good for it."

I take a nap, and go wander around for a while. Eventually, I did get my wallet returned, sans cash, of course. I called all of the credit card companies and such, told them what charges I'd made and not to honor any others from 10 am to 6 PM, and none were made (luckily.) But I have to wonder--who would turn the wallet in as found? I think it was a casino employee, anyone else would've likely tossed it. But who's to say.

Maybe tomorrow will be less exciting. At least I have my IDs again. I wonder where I can get a loaf of bread, some onions, and mustard. Onion sammiches are about all I can afford now.

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