Life on the Road – Trucking News Blog

absolutely, positively not ready to go anywhere. Do you remember the song by John Denver and the Mamas and Papas? That was the theme of my day. I drove to Office Depot to fax the DOT physical and release forms from the cardiologist to my company. That started a chain of phone calls and e-mails just as if I had never been absent a day from work. My DM (dispatcher) and the Operations Manager are in the process of locating a tractor for me. Because I have a TWIC card, HAZMAT endorsement, security clearance and can go into Canada, I will get priority over other drivers that are also waiting for trucks.

So I’m on standby. Like waiting for a load. Like being a tow truck driver. A fireman. It’s stressful. The call could come in at any time and I’ll be on a Greyhound or plane to somewhere. I asked them to please try to give me at least 24 hours notice before I have to leave the house. I’ve told you this numerous time already, but it bears constant repeating – if I did not have the right doctor – cardiologist – handling my case – one who treats me with respect and understands the challenges of trucking – going back to work and dealing with all the paperwork, meds and jumping through DOT hoops, etc. – would be an impossible and frustrating affair.

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Yes, I know you drink it. I’ve seen you buy it at truck stops. I know it’s in your truck. It shouldn’t be, but it is. We know alcohol and driving don’t mix. But, it is part of trucking. Truck drivers drink beer. There are many truckers with huge beer bellies. Many look like they’re just about to give birth to a baby gorilla. Drinking beer is one of those “unspoken” things about trucking like jock itch, depression, marijuana, sex and selling stuff that “falls” off your truck.

I’ve never understood why “travel centers” sell beer. But then I don’t understand why they sell cigarettes or boat loads of candy and two day old hot dogs. I see truckers parked in a truck stop – travel center – walking to and from the “store” with a twelve pack of Bud and a carton of Merits. That driver and his rig are gone the next morning. Where did all that alcohol go? Am I being naive?

I can’t drink anything because of all the meds I take. When I did drink, and I wasn’t a big beer drinker, it just didn’t agree with me. Before I finished a glass of wine, I perspired so much I need to change my shirt. I looked like I was having a heart attack. After sharing a pitcher of sangria, I would get angry and want to fight anyone and everyone. I was OK with mixed drinks, but could never consume more than two a day, actually two a week. Beer would just bloat me up big time. I couldn’t drink beer without wearing pants with an elastic waist. Straight liquor was out. I could never develop a taste for vodka, scotch or Jim Beam whiskey. I once had moon shine and thought parts of my face were falling off.

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This has been a long day. The long and the short of it is that I’ve been given a new lease on life – a new start, reborn, chapter 2. I have gone from a 100% chance of having a stoke or heart attack to less than 1%. My heart, arteries and just about everything else that works to keep me alive are now functioning “normally.” Short of suicide, being shot in a drive-by shooting or some other disaster, my life expectancy has increased from 24-48 hours to 30+ years, God willing. My cardiologist said that I just might live long enough to see the Tampa Bay Bucs win the Super Bowl again. What a sense of humor. If I eat right, take my army of pills, exercise and limit the A-type behavior, trucking just might not kill me. The reality of that remains to be seen.

At about 2:30 pm, I passed the &%$#@ DOT physical, the details of which shall remain top secret for a while. I’m way too close to what has happened over the past 53 days from my time in the emergency room until today. I will say that the letter I wrote to the clinic complaining about the way I was treated was taken seriously and changes made. Today there was new head nurse who finally signed off on the physical. And, with complete support from my cardiologist, I am sitting here with my DOT med card valid for 1 year. Tomorrow I’ll go laminate it, then stick it in my wallet and forget about it. The entire DOT physical “process” was nothing more than an $80 exercise in futility, a FMCSA ruse to waste my time and jump through unnecessary bureaucratic hoops. It did not make me healthier, did not make me safer, did not improve any aspect of my job and in fact caused me to lose weeks of pay.

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Well drivers, the IRS has ruled. Despite what the “experts” at HR Block say and the letter from my employer and a ton of logs and other paperwork to prove it, the IRS says “we” did not prove that I was OTR for 285 days in 2006. What I was doing, if not driving a truck, is irrelevant. The fact that I was, in fact, driving a truck OTR, is irrelevant. The per diem deduction is “dis-allowed” and we owe the IRS about $3000, not including future interest and penalties.

The steel toe work boots that are a “standard” job related deduction was also not allowed. Not even “work” pants or shirts. It seems that they don’t have my carriers logo or name on it, so the IRS feels that I could use them to walk around the mall on the weekend or go to dinner in them. The deduction has been “dis-allowed.” The laptop that I use in the truck, according to the IRS, should have been depreciated over time, not all at once, so that deduction has also been “dis-allowed.”

HR Block, who I strongly recommend that drivers NOT use, was very supportive at the beginning, vowing to fight this with us to the end, pacifying us that we would prevail, dropped the ball and totally screwed the pooch, so to speak. Their ineptness caused us to lose valuable time while the IRS ruled against us. The last message my wife received from HR Block was that: “it might be better if we pursued the IRS on our own.” Isn’t that just special.

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Here’s some important advice – if in your gut you feel your PCP – primary care physician and or (if you’re an OTR driver with heart disease) your cardiologist isn’t totally in-sync with you, then get rid of them. It’s bad enough that you have to put up with the arrogance and superior know-it-all attitude of the supervisors at your company – you don’t have to deal with it from the people you have charged with your health care. There is always a better doctor available. There is always a superior philosophy. There are always better drug options and plans to pay for them. And there are many physicians that better understand the lifestyle and health issue that are faced by truck drivers. Most important, there are cardiologists and internists that understand the stupidity of the DOT physical process and will go out of their way to legally and safely assist you pass it so you can continue to drive and earn a living.

You have followed my story. I had an excellent cardiovascular specialist implant my stents. The people during my three hospital stays were outstanding. But there was a weak link in the chain, that was my cardiologist. I thought he was going to be good to work with after the first meeting. He came highly recommended. After the second meeting, I quickly changed my mind. I felt as though he treated my wife as if she was a nurse working for him and I was just another damaged patient to be passed through "his" process. He had cleared me to return to work and see him again for a follow-up in four months. As I wrote earlier, I then proceeded to a local no-appointment clinic to get a DOT physical. It was not to be because they claimed my BP was too high. I should have never been there.

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In an effort to start eating better, I recently read Food Rules by Michael Pollan. It’s a quick read and a real eye-opener. I can’t say that it contained information I didn’t already know, but as I’ve gotten older, I see how I veered away from the way I ate when I was growing up.

My family always cooked with fresh ingredients; we never had jarred spaghetti sauce, there wasn’t a box of Twinkies or a can of Pringles to be found anywhere near our cupoards and my mother considered Rice Krispies to be “fun” cereal.  Captain Crunch wasn’t sailing through our kitchen anytime soon, that’s for sure.

When I moved out on my own, I was armed with great recipes from several family members and my father’s cooking skills, so not only didn’t I go hungry but I always served up a great meal, whether it was for myself or lucky dinner guests. It was always made from scratch, just like my parents and grandparents did it. To this day, I’ve never had a can of Spaghettio’s and only once in my adult life have I eaten SPAM; an experience when brought to mind, makes my stomach feel a little queasy.

That said, being in the truck has changed things a little. I’m still able to cook great meals in my sleeper kitchen (even though I only have a two burner stove) but I also find myself dining at fast food joints. I’m trying to wean myself off that kind of food (difficult!), in addition to stocking the truck with great snacks. And every time I eat something, I think of the line from Michael Pollan’s book that said, “There are thousands of foodish products in the supermarket that our ancestors simply wouldn’t recognize as food.” That’s what prompted my writing the following article, using the title from that chapter of his book as my inspiration:

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That’s just where I right now. This morning, having been cleared by my cardiologist to return to work and with an "official" note in hand from him to that effect, I headed to the nearest clinic that can do a DOT physical. It is the same place that did my last three DOT physicals.

There was nobody inside which was good because the longer I have to wait to get the physical done, the more nervous I get. I’ve tried to calm down through the process, but I just can’t. I was a little ticked that the cost for the physical has gone up $20 since last year to $80. In that year, the clinic has doubled the size and remodeled their offices.

So I sat down and had to fill out more paperwork than I’ve done in the last month spending time in and out of the hospital. Before I finished, a male tech – nurse took me inside and directed me to sit on an examining table – the usual one with the tissue paper over the top. He had me hooked up to the blood pressure monitor faster than you can say "what’s the rush?"

A few hours before I had taken my hand-full of meds – I also took my BP. It was 110 over 70 with a 55 pulse. No problem passing the physical with that reading. Everything cool – right? No. Not even close. The tech-nurse said "your" BP is 170 over 110. Huh? It can’t be. He said "you – me" really should be on BP meds right away. You – "me" might even want to go to the emergency room – now.

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It’s an elephant, a train, an oncoming semi, a goat in heat, a really large bee hive, quit’n time at the factory – no, it’s a VUVUZELA! It’s the 2010 hula hoop. It’s the thing to have and I want one!

According to Wikipedia, Vuvuzelas has been controversial. They’ve been featured recently on all the nightly talk shows as well as the news everywhere. They have been associated with permanent noise induced hearing loss. In fact, demand for earplugs during the 2010 World Cup “football” matches outstripped supply, because so many fans were blowing their vuvuzelas!

Vuvuzelas have been blamed for drowning out the sound and ruining the atmosphere of many sporting events around the world. Commentators have described the sound as “annoying” and “satanic.” On June 19, 2010 at a Major League Baseball game between the Tampa Bay Rays and Florida Marlins at Sun Life Stadium, the first 15,000 fans were given miniature vuvuzelas as part of a promotion. Based on the widespread criticism from fans and players it could possibly lead to a ban of vuvuzela usage at MLB events.

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to tonight’s Deadliest Catch episode on the Discovery Channel at 9pm. Our colleague Phil Harris, captain of the Cornelia Maria, passed this past February. He was only 53. As widely reported, during the filming of the 6th season of Deadliest Catch, Harris suffered a massive stroke while harbored in St. Paul Island, Alaska.

He was flown to Anchorage for surgery, and was placed in an induced coma to reduce cranial blood pressure and swelling. He awoke from the coma after his condition had improved. He was squeezing hands, talking, and showing other signs of improvement but died from an aneurysm.

According to the Hollywood Reporter, “His sons Jacob and Joshua issued a statement for the Harris family, saying, “It is with great sadness that we say goodbye to our dad — Captain Phil Harris. Dad has always been a fighter and continued to be until the end. For us and the crew, he was someone who never backed down. We will remember and celebrate that strength. Thanks to everyone for their thoughts and prayers.”

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Is this the best you’ve got? Well, it’s just NOT good enough. I’m driving 80,000 lbs. of truck. I am responsible for securing 48,000 lbs. – 24 tons of cargo. Sometimes the material has to be covered with a tarp that that weighs 125 lbs. There are times when I have to climb up loads as high as 14 feet. I’m allowed by law to work 14 hours a day – 11 of those hours are DRIVING – 70 hours a week. Are you really sure that I can do this with all the medications you’ve just prescribed? Have you seriously and professionally considered ALL aspects of my present condition beyond that of your own ego, wallet and patient quotas?

Many believe we have the best health care in the world. I’m not an expert that could confirm that. I am, however, a patient and as such, based on my needs, we do NOT have the best health care in the world – far from it. Because the present system is not based on treating the whole person, but providing superior ‘piecemeal’ care only, even if you have a primary care physician. The website ‘The Art of Patient Care’ says: “As physicians and nurses, we can treat respiratory failure and congestive heart failure pretty well, but we fail miserably when the problems are associated with emotional stress. Most of us seem to want to ignore these problems and walk away from them even though they are real and create great suffering for patients.”

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