I see ;3

A few days later Dr Z called to scedual an apointment to review  results. In the days leading up to his call i was prepaing myself for another go in the capsule.
"We're gonna have to do it agian, huh?" "That wont be nessary. We got everything we need." "The techs told me the images were terriable. I figured we were gonna have to go another round." "Nope" Consultation was set up for the next week.
In the mean time there was work to be done.
There ws one job i did for my 9-5 that put the writing on the wall, it spelt out the words "No mas!
An old ladie in sugarhouse had some female (fruit) trees that were way over due for production prunes, IE they were nasty as all hell. But she did have an Almond tree. Never been in one of those so that was anotherone to notch out the bed post for.
Today i was paired up with "Senior Montanya", better known as Jose. When i returned from the Banx he and i were put together for tree work. He was a hard woring Sum-a-bit-chhhh. Very impresive. We could not understand oneanother to begin with. "This must be the kind of barrier Messner ran into negotiating Everest the first time. This is when i  knighted him the title Sir "Paco Sherpa." The first time i refered to him as Paco Sherpa He got all kinds of Baboon nuts on me!! After about a half hour of fighting through the language barrier and the assurence i was'nt calling him a "Hoetoe" or my bitch, it was a bond/trust that this honkey wont ever talk to "this sherpa" like he was your advarage run of the mill cactus cutting, border hoping mexican.
We started in the tree furthist away, the Almond and worked our way back to the closer ones. The almond went fairly quickly although the blader began doing its thing which inturn caused me to do my thing (drop everything and take cover). Problem was, there was no real cover to be found. Agian a dash for 619 and hauling ass for the closest 7-11. I think Paco was  left on the site like 3 times. 3 times all i could muster was dribbling, made me mad as hell. I would come back get my saddel back on, get back to work and you guessed it."I gotta fucken piss agian!" This time the pice was comming out, no cover be damned! I still tryed to find a place that the old lady could'nt spy my pice at. I ended up in the driveway of all places. Using a trash can to pin myself between the garage door and a mugo pine. The phantom stone dislodged itself and "we got hydrolics!! Elated with releif i failed to see all the pee flooding down the driveway. Or, the neborhood cars going by. Truth be known, I could'nt give a squirt of piss about any o that. My concern was not causing our customer a heart attack. Thank God she did'nt see any of the hooded cobra.
From the Almond tree we moved onto a few Apricot trees. These trees were a little spooky due to the fact they were so close to high voltage power lines. This kept me from actually climbing one of the two labled as such. That left me useing pole tools and a orchard ladder.
When a climber is airborn, communication between Climer and ground control is imparitive. The fact is without a good groudman the "best" climbers may as well be high paid peeping toms. A real good indicator you have excelent ground support is. They have the ability to antisipate the next move to be made and the best way to react to whatever situation they see coming next. Paco Sherpa understood this, that is why i loved to work with him.
So i ended up using an orchard ladder for the Apricots. All my pee breaks had put us behind schedual by an hour or so, so i was making haste. There was just a few cuts left to be made. Getting to these last few cuts was a pain in the ass due to the high voltage passing overhead. I had to place my ladder all off balance to make it happen. This is a common practice that usually includes tying off the top of the ladder when the climber gets there, which i did not. When i got up to the top i realized  i could make these cuts with my eyes closed and so unprotected, went for it. The fist and then with a lunge and up on the tip of my righht boot, the second. Successfuly making the cut, i could feel weakness rush through my core, legs and arms and finely finding its way to my feet and hands.by now i was expecting this and had been able to sorta time the waves and the task. This time i chose poorly by forceing myself to the final cut. Overcome by weakness at the cuting point the ladder started to go over, instictivly i tightened up my grip. This happining many times before, was never a big deal. This was something i could easly self arrest myself outa. Not now. As tight a grip i could muster, seemed almost non-existant and i was headed for certian broken legs and torn forskin as there was barbedwire below. Thank God for the antisipation of Paco Sherpa. were it not for Jose "Paco Sherpa" Flores i would've suffered serious injury. He was able to stop the ladder from colapse alowing me just enough strenth to hold on. Finely able to upright the ladder so i could kinda stumble down backwards to the earth, on my ass.
Jose being the overachever that he is, like myself, prefers to be the "work through luch and get the fuck outa here!" guy. Not on this day he wernt! There were seven trees to be touched, we, had just completed number two and it was basicly lunch time. "I,m so fucked!!" Tacking inventory of the work left to be completed. We had two more Apricots to clean, luckly they were much smaller. Two Cherry trees that weretall as hell and growing between two structures with lots of windows and line drops that provided power to each house. This was the crux of the whole job. Grandma wanted these two trees halfed and done properly. This is where i make lots o money being an expert at rigging, i save alot of headach and time associated with the danger and difficulty in triming, pruning and removing tree types such as those. Then there was a Juniper that needed to be peeled off the home. Finely a Cottonwood growing in the parking strip. It had a massive amount of sucker growth down where the main trunk began its co-domination.
With much reluctance, i trimed out the two remaining Apricots before taking  the Paco protested "launshh!"
Boro's galore for lunch.
 Fear...i believe...live's inside of everybody at some level. It's how we choose to confront it. Or let it confront us. For the last 6 or so months i had been crusading to the MS lands. Headstrong. Charge!!! Jon McClane Yippe KIA Mother Fucker!!like. Im pretty sure Bruce would concur. But that day...My mind was "Okay!! Lets roll!! My body just would not oblige with any enthusiasim. I,never have operated in those conditions, was scared, very scared, afraid. All the other times i was able to reach and tap energy sourses and reserves, that manifest confidence. That counted for so much. It seemed i no longer possesed the Magic required. Mana drain so ta speek. My Wife has at a hundred's of times or another accused me of Sweat shoping my guardian angel's "One of these days Chris they're all go on strike on you!!" she would plead, and she was right. I just chose not to agree. Now, i'll be damned if they (angels) had'nt grabd me by the buck wheats "Got yer attention nowwwww!! DONT WE!" They sure as hell did. Hence all the Boro's And I DID'NT WANT TO CLIMB THOSE CHERRY TREES.
After a few cuts with the 200t and polesaw, i figured i'd save what little energy i had for in the air. The interior was simple enough so to the top it was. Before i could reduce the height, i needed to reduce the width, problem was, i had no fuel lft in me. We handeled the laterals going over windows. It wasnt purdy, no, but it was done. Reducing the height was left. After limb walking/crawling the latterals, it took a pretty serious motavational talk with myself to go after the top. The only thing that alowed me to move or kept me in position was my gear 100%. It also worked agianst me. A couple of times i lowerd myself through a "hole" to go after a cut, not thinking i would have to backtrack and pull myself back up for more cuts. "Piss, Poor , Planing Chris!" In total self disgust. Going to make my way back up, was just not happening, i was so fatigued, so hot,so.....lifeless! Paco was about ready to come and cut me out. Twice this happend and somehow, i just........ willed? myself back out.
The final cut to be made in the Cherrys was top number two. Basic, basic, basic. Tie a rope to it and have Paco pull like hell when the back cut goes in so the top olly's the tree for a simple clean up.
With a small sliver of a facecut and the tag line attached things were ready to roll. Jose, ready at the end of the tag and my saw running at the ready "Tighten up!!" The rope went from slack to tention, Jose ready to pull like hell. Suddenly the wave of weakness began its set. Relizing the gravity of the situation "Back cut!!" I went to make the cut and could not raise the saw. Using two hands and a buch of cuss words, i was able to rsorta place the saw where the backcut was to go. All i had to do was apply pressure and squeeze the throtle. At this moment my legs simply stoped working and i began to sloutch down and cutting at the same time. "Pull Paco!! Pull!! And Paco deliverd. Watching the top clear and land  was the last thing i saw before my boby just went limp and i began to colapse with my trim saw still in hand, fingers still covering the throtle without an engaged chain break. Usually when someting like this happens, the first thing i do is let go of the saw. With things the way they were for me i was unable to do this. When my body came to rest it was with my saw hand with saw in my grip, coming to rest on top of my left arm. How i did,nt cut my arm off is beyond me. Sweat Shop.