Job Number One

I’m well and truly horrified by Saturday’s fatal midair collision at the Wings for Dallas air show. One of the things that gets drummed into military pilots is how dangerous overtake and blind spots can be when flying close to other aircraft, and in most of the spectator videos posted online, it looks like both factors were in play as the pilot of the P-63 converged, belly up, on the B-17.

At least one online video, taken from another angle, suggests the possibility that the P-63 pilot could have seen the B-17 — had he been looking forward and clearing his flight path. Most likely, though, he was looking over his left shoulder at one of the WWII fighters he was in loose formation with. Either way, job number one is to clear your flight path and not hit shit. This horrific accident had nothing to do with the age of the aircraft involved, but I suspect public reaction will result in new FAA restrictions on vintage warbird demos at air shows.

Thoughts & prayers, etc.

In other news:

About a week ago, I noticed something off about Mr. B’s appearance. I took a closer look and realized the left side of his snout was swollen. Touching it, even lightly, made him yelp in pain. We called the vet, who said it was probably a bad tooth with an abscess underneath. She prescribed a week’s worth of antibiotics and pain relievers to hold him over until she could examine him. Which, yesterday, she did. He now has a date to have the tooth pulled and the abscess drained, and they’ll clean what few teeth he has left while he’s under.

We’d been putting off another dental procedure — he’s had two in the five years we’ve had him — because he’s an old guy and putting him under gets more risky with age, but the abscess will just come back if we don’t have it done. For now, the antibiotics have done their job and the swelling is gone. Through all this, he’s been eating well, playing with Fritzi and Lulu, going for walks, and generally acting like the young stud he thinks he is.

Just coincidentally, Fritzi and Lulu were due for valley fever titer blood tests, so we brought all three pups in at once. We should hear back on their results in a week. We’re hoping, after a year each on valley fever meds, they’ve kicked it and can quit taking fluconazole. Imagine having three whole dogs and nothing wrong with any of them … as John Lennon said, I wonder if I can. Fingers crossed.

Meanwhile, we humans are well. Donna’s vision in her right eye has improved so much after cataract surgery she no longer needs her glasses. Surgery on her left eye is scheduled a few days after Thanksgiving. So far our ophthalmologist hasn’t said I need it, but I’m getting cataracts too and won’t be surprised if on my next annual check, or the one after, he says it’s time.

I visited the cardiologist Wednesday for an ultrasound and EKG, and all is well. I haven’t had an AFIB episode since it was first diagnosed in April — the meds are doing their job keeping it at bay.

Think I mentioned it, but I broke a crown off a molar biting down on an unpopped kernel of corn and had to visit the dentist to have the rough edges filed down. I’ll go back in January, with a new dental insurance plan, to have another crown put on. The open enrollment period for military retiree dental coverage began today, and I’ve already ditched our old plan and signed up for the one our dentist likes — which, wonder of wonders, is cheaper than the one he didn’t like. Wondering now what the catch is, because there surely will be one.