Over the long weekend, LCpl Tron got a little tipsy and wrestled with Cpl M. Now, M is what we in the Corps call a "corn-fed MFer"; he's about six-one, two hundred pounds of muscle. Tron is five-five, wiry, and while he's strong for his size, he weighs in at 105. Good thing it was a friendly match.

Until Tron picked up M and tried to toss him, and his back gave out during the tossing. He went to medical, they gave him a bunch of pills, and put him Sick In Quarters until today, with instructions to come back for a followup midmorning today.

He was off SIQ, so he showed up at work, and I heard about his misadventure. "All right," I think to myself, "He doesn't have a light duty chit yet, but they'll surely give him one when he goes to his 1000 appointment. So I'll set him a task that's not physically stressful."

We have a new helmet that needs built up, so I set him to that. He went to the head, took his pills, and started taping the helmet shell. The rest of us went outside and started doing some aircraft maintenance, that involved climbing up helicopters, lifting troop seats, and so forth, things he clearly wasn't in a shape to do.

I was out there sweating with my guys when I got an urgent summons that I was to see the Maintenance Chief immediatly. I hadn't done anything wrong recently, but he's my boss's boss, tied for the highest-ranking enlisted in the squadron, so I dropped what I was doing and hustled to his office.

When I got there, he said "What the hell's up with your boy Tron?"

"Well, Master Guns, he's a bit broke, so I've got him working in the shop until his appointment. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I just talked with him out in the hanger. He thinks he's fine to work. He's wrong. Get him back to the barracks."

"Umm... sure thing, Master Guns! I'll run him home now."

So I went to the shop to get Tron, and discovered that his drugs had kicked in. The docs had given him Percaset and Valium, and he was as high as a kite. Couldn't stand up straight, had a goofy smile on his face, it was grim. He tried to argue with me about being able to work and feeling fine... yeah, it was very clear that he was feeling fine! So I told him it was an order, and took him home for the day. We called and rescheduled his appointment, leaving a suggestion that perhaps a person of his slight body weight might need smaller dosages.

Posted by: Boviate at 11:14 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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