Sometimes the mask slips and my true emotional age -- seven -- shows.
On Friday it'll be 23 years since I went on the TDRL, and 18 since it became permanent.
Therefore it was 24 years ago and change that I made my last flight as a naval aircrewman.
As you might imagine, that last flight was directly tied to my medical retirement. I'd write about it at length but can't remember anything between manning up and waking up. The recovery process deserves some words and I'll get there eventually. Probably.
Anyway, 24 years is almost a quarter-century. Seems both a long time and a short time. I was told by no small number of medical experts that I was going to have the opportunity to retire to a recliner. On the bright side, I was told, they were making great progress in the battery-powered scooter industry, so I could look forward to some nifty mobility.
Uncle Sugar's eval board, well, I don't want to bum myself out for the day, so I'll skip it for now.
Anyway, fairy tail ending. I power hiked 8 miles in 2:04 yesterday. Felt good to blow the cobs out. As it turned out, I never quite qualified for hopeless invalid status.
And so, a message from the seven year old to all the naysayers (who weren't/aren't bad people, just misguided).