Today, Junly 21, is Liberation Day on the island. There has been a carnival down by the Chamorro Village all month. Families have been camped out along the parade route for the last week and a half at least. Driving home on Saturday I passed families gathered around TVs under canopies, the smoke and smell of barbequing meat, and kids sacked out on cots. Excitement grew to a fever pitch to culminate in the grand parade this morning.

At the base we were offered liberal leave to participate in the holiday. On the island it was very much a holiday atmosphere.

As you may recall I went to the hospital last week. The doctor set me up with a follow up visit to the Family Practice Clinic at the Naval Hospital. The appointment was for 9:20 AM and the parade started at 10:00 AM. I figured I would do the appointment and then skate on downtown to see the parade.

But I didn't figure on a few minor problems. I wasn't sure where I was going and had to ask for directions. Consequently I arrived five minutes late. And then I remembered what I had happily ignored for all those years in Maine. I encountered that special disdain and annoyance displayed so readily by those on the fringes of the medical profession. Being five minutes late I was too late to see the doctor. When I asked the receptionist to make sure of that she expressed her annoyance silently and stumped off down the hall.

She returned a few minutes later, confirmed that five minutes is indeed too late, and then she rescheduled my appointment, pecking at her keyboard for a long time. She announced that she could reschedule me for the same day. I figured that would be great. I could see the parade and then be back for the appointment. However, she rescheduled my appointment for 10:30 and then handed me a thick packet of forms to fill out, the same forms I had filled out in the emergency room, refused to believe I had already provided this information, and sent me back to the waiting room.

Eventually I was collected by a corpsman who took my vital signs and then escorted me to an examining room. There I met a doctor, a Lieutenant Commander, who confirmed that I was feeling better. Then he started to ask about my blood pressure and my medications. I mentioned that I was getting close to running out of my medication and would need to renew it soon. That stumped them. They couldn't figure out what it was and had to do extensive research through all their books and computer databases. Then they took my pill bottle and ran the name into the Google search engine and finally they had their answers. They set me up for my refills and for some other "normal" tests and sent me to the pharmacy.

The pharmacy was another experience in frustration and waiting. There were crowds surging back and forth, children clinging to their video games and cartoons on the TV. Old people coughed up phlegm and janitors rattled buckets. And I finally got my medication.

All that took a lot of time. In that time the weather broke and rained poured down in buckets. When I left the building I could hear, at the bottom of the hill, a band bravely playing along the parade route. I decided I wouldn't go stand in the rain to watch the end of the parade and I headed back to work.

As I made the turn at Marine Drive I looked north and saw the tail end of the parade, one float moving up the street with the rain dripping off it. I felt bad for all the people who had waited so long for the parade only to have the heavens open up on them.

So now I have my meds and I can get on with the positive side of the adventure. Today I got a long run of messages from Dr. Cunningham with pictures of his adventure on the canoe trip and scenes from the island of Pagan. I've asked him for more information. I also have several articles on building and navigating the outrigger canoe to read. I guess I'll stay busy for a while longer.