Four years ago, today
Evelyn had travelled to Arizona in January of 2016 to be "grandma" while Adam and Tiff took a vacation. She loved being with the grandbabies and I was busy with making a big mess during the remodel of our home in Freedom. The original "cabin" had wood paneling on the walls, both the vertical surfaces and the sloping, upper walls. It was so 1970's and dark. The sheetrock that had been installed, behind the paneling, had not been completely taped and there were a lot of very rough surfaces that would need to be mudded, sanded and prepared before a new coat of paint. Up against the beams there were several places that would need several coats of mud.
It was very cold and being January 30th there was a lot of snow. I had brought inside, one of my large extension ladders, the day before so that there wouldn't be any water or ice to make things slippery. I've climbed those ladders thousands of times in the construction and remodeling of homes. They are the heavy duty type and I have never scrimped on equipment that I use. Because this particular spot was by the large plate glass windows I knew that I would be "leaning" a portion of the ladder against the glass. I had padding on the top extension but I made sure that the ladder was heaviest on the side that would rest against the beam. It's nearly 20 feet to the ceiling and working on that top line of drywall would require me to have my head up near the top.
I carried a mud tray and a blade that is about 14 inches in width. Being a fairly tall fellow I have a pretty good "wing span" and I'm able to reach a pretty good distance "out". Apparently, along with my reaching, the weight of my body and the placement of the ladder, the bottom of the ladder kicked out and I fell directly onto the bottom two stairs. The ladder didn't slide down the wall, it popped away from the floor and gravity took over.
I never lost consciousness and I knew I was in trouble. Immediately I checked for serious bleeding. There was some blood but nothing serious. I was aware that I could feel my toes and I had use of my hands and arms. My first thoughts were on how badly it hurt where I had landed on my backside. "If I could just slide along the floor and get to the couch I'd be okay", I thought. As soon as I tried to move my torso, in the least, the pain was beyond any allowance of that possibility. My phone was in my back pocket, on the right side, and had not been damaged or dislodged. I called Chad and said I'd had an accident. He said, "Steve, I'm here in Utah". I explained that I would call LaVor and hung up. I was afraid that I was going to pass out and I needed to talk to someone fast. When I called LaVor, Barbara answered. She immediately called out to her good husband and I think he was at our door within 5 minutes.
Now to understand the dialogue between LaVor and myself you need to understand a little about this amazing man that I call "neighbor". LaVor served in Viet Nam and he's about 5 or 6 years older than me. I've known who he was, and his family, since I was a small boy. He doesn't mince words and tells people what he thinks. I love this guy! He walked in to our home, saw me on the floor and announced that he was calling 911. I immediately objected and said that if he could just help get me to the couch that I would be okay. "I've seen people bleed out internally from injuries like that and I'm not moving you anywhere". Thanks a bunch LaVor. I told him that I'd like to call my cousin and get a priesthood blessing, still thinking that I just needed a few minutes to let the pain go away. Robert Weber did come up and give me a blessing, about the same time that the ambulance had come up the hill. The medics were just as straightforward as LaVor and indicated that they were going to secure me in the semi-fetal position I was in and carry me to the ambulance.
For those of you that have never been to our home, that last sentence is substantial. Our front door opens to a deck and then goes, at an angle, down about a dozen steps. There had been a new snowfall the night before and I had cleared the steps and driveway but there is always snow and ice beneath your feet. They had to lift me above their heads to get around the railings and it was rather unnerving for me. I don't believe they had given me any medication yet and I have a clear memory of that trip.
(I have since that time completely built a new deck and the placement of the stairs is much more convenient)
The ambulance took me to the hospital in Thayne and it is a tremendous facility for being in such a small community. The director of the radiology and imaging department was Brother Lemmon and we served on the high council together. Just a few weeks prior to my "fall" Brother Lemmon had been in the newspaper because of some new equipment that was installed. I'm certain that I wasn't the first patient to use it but I was grateful for the technology. While I was "in" the machine I could hear the Doctors talking about what they were seeing. It wasn't positive at all and when they approached me it was with the message that I would need to go to a trauma center. They mentioned Idaho Falls or Salt Lake City. Because my mom lived in Utah, along with some of our sons, I asked to go there. It had been storming and when they contacted the airport it was determined that there would be no flights out so a ground transport would be required.
As I was preparing to be loaded into the ambulance, a nurse brought a fellow over and said, "This is Charlie, he's the hospital administrator and he's going to drive". All I could think was "Charlie, Tuna" and "how can this guy, dressed in winter clothes and being so young, be the administrator?" My father had been a hospital administrator and this looked like a fellow who should be helping me build a fence. Charlie was wonderful although he had to be told to slow down several times by the attending nurses. By the time we were on the road they were administering IV drugs and I remember it as quite a pleasant 5 hours. In fact, both of the attending nurses have become friends and we stay in touch.
When I was able to contact Evelyn she made arrangements to fly to Utah. Michael and Andrew immediately took off for Wyoming and I think it was a Doctor that called them and said I was being transported to Utah. They were waiting for me when the ambulance pulled into the emergency area at the Murray Trauma Center. The staff stabilized me, did several tests and admitted me.
I wish I was able to record that my experience there was good. In fact, it was bad enough that I should've documented it and challenged the medical teams. They performed two major surgeries which included a plate and screws into my pelvic bones after they had repositioned the bones. I was told that if I had been moved or tried to move that the bone that was impacting my femoral artery would've caused me to bleed out. So, LaVor was correct. They then turned me over and placed a six inch rod that went from my hip to my pelvis. What they never addressed, even though there were several post surgery events which shouted the news, was that my back was broken in two places and the nerves were being severely stressed. It would not be for another 9 weeks before a doctor in Jackson Hole would identify the breaks and then complete three more surgeries in the hospital in Afton.
After nine nights in Murray I was discharged to Evelyn's care and we drove to my mother's home in Orem. I never should have checked out. My pain, even under medication, was so severe that night that I wished to die. That was not the first night I'd felt that way, nor would it be the last. I was being introduced to a time in life when I never had a single moment of peace, without pain.
I was able to walk, with crutches, and I stayed ahead of the prognosis for recovery but the pain wasn't going away. The only thing that allowed me enough of a calm was a fairly serious dosage of oxycodone. One of my close friends, from years ago in the classroom, had become an addict to narcotics. His story, and others like him, scared me so badly that I never took the total amount prescribed and had several doctors who would try various drugs. I tried Lyrica and Gabapentin and others. Nothing cut through the pain and the side effects were often very difficult to deal with. My mind would become muddled and my ability to remember was greatly diminished.
Dr. Joshua Beck, in Jackson Hole, was the doctor who performed the repairs to my back and he would end up attending to me five times while under the blessed relief of full anesthesia. Not long after he had become my doctor and was addressing the nerve pain, I asked him what the window of healing would be. His answer was that whatever recovery might come would happen within 18 months. Any pain that was still present would probably remain for the rest of my life. I am so grateful that the pain which I was still dealing with 18 months later, has indeed, gotten much better.
I still know, every day, that my left foot is "burning" and every single day, the pain increases from the moment I get up until the nighttime when I can lay down. I would love to have a position, sitting, standing, or anywhere so that I could find relief during the day. It isn't available and some days are worse than others, without any identifiable "cause and affect". However, I am so much better than I was two years ago which gives me hope that in two years I will be even better.
Before I conclude this rambling memory I must make mention of the blessings that came to me. My family rallied around me and friends were supportive. That spring all of the boys would find their way up to Wyoming to help with completing some of the many construction projects that I had started. They finished the pavilion, worked on the barn and helped inside the home. Friends from the community would come and visit and neighbors often came, before anything was asked, to make my life easier. Mike Wothe flew out from Wisconsin with his friend who was a carpenter. Those two men, along with Marie, Mike's daughter, spent a week working on the barn and the kitchen. Mike had been sitting in church, thinking about my accident when it came into his mind to come and help. He really doesn't have any carpenter skills but he had a friend who did so Mike came to Wyoming. Mike could have sent money and had me hire the work done but that wasn't his way of helping. As I watched those wonderful people cutting wood, and working long days, it became truly apparent what the meaning of brotherly love is all about. Today, our place is not just an evidence of my parents who started it, nor of my construction skills. It's a place that tells me how much I'm loved.
It was very cold and being January 30th there was a lot of snow. I had brought inside, one of my large extension ladders, the day before so that there wouldn't be any water or ice to make things slippery. I've climbed those ladders thousands of times in the construction and remodeling of homes. They are the heavy duty type and I have never scrimped on equipment that I use. Because this particular spot was by the large plate glass windows I knew that I would be "leaning" a portion of the ladder against the glass. I had padding on the top extension but I made sure that the ladder was heaviest on the side that would rest against the beam. It's nearly 20 feet to the ceiling and working on that top line of drywall would require me to have my head up near the top.
I carried a mud tray and a blade that is about 14 inches in width. Being a fairly tall fellow I have a pretty good "wing span" and I'm able to reach a pretty good distance "out". Apparently, along with my reaching, the weight of my body and the placement of the ladder, the bottom of the ladder kicked out and I fell directly onto the bottom two stairs. The ladder didn't slide down the wall, it popped away from the floor and gravity took over.
I never lost consciousness and I knew I was in trouble. Immediately I checked for serious bleeding. There was some blood but nothing serious. I was aware that I could feel my toes and I had use of my hands and arms. My first thoughts were on how badly it hurt where I had landed on my backside. "If I could just slide along the floor and get to the couch I'd be okay", I thought. As soon as I tried to move my torso, in the least, the pain was beyond any allowance of that possibility. My phone was in my back pocket, on the right side, and had not been damaged or dislodged. I called Chad and said I'd had an accident. He said, "Steve, I'm here in Utah". I explained that I would call LaVor and hung up. I was afraid that I was going to pass out and I needed to talk to someone fast. When I called LaVor, Barbara answered. She immediately called out to her good husband and I think he was at our door within 5 minutes.
Now to understand the dialogue between LaVor and myself you need to understand a little about this amazing man that I call "neighbor". LaVor served in Viet Nam and he's about 5 or 6 years older than me. I've known who he was, and his family, since I was a small boy. He doesn't mince words and tells people what he thinks. I love this guy! He walked in to our home, saw me on the floor and announced that he was calling 911. I immediately objected and said that if he could just help get me to the couch that I would be okay. "I've seen people bleed out internally from injuries like that and I'm not moving you anywhere". Thanks a bunch LaVor. I told him that I'd like to call my cousin and get a priesthood blessing, still thinking that I just needed a few minutes to let the pain go away. Robert Weber did come up and give me a blessing, about the same time that the ambulance had come up the hill. The medics were just as straightforward as LaVor and indicated that they were going to secure me in the semi-fetal position I was in and carry me to the ambulance.
For those of you that have never been to our home, that last sentence is substantial. Our front door opens to a deck and then goes, at an angle, down about a dozen steps. There had been a new snowfall the night before and I had cleared the steps and driveway but there is always snow and ice beneath your feet. They had to lift me above their heads to get around the railings and it was rather unnerving for me. I don't believe they had given me any medication yet and I have a clear memory of that trip.
(I have since that time completely built a new deck and the placement of the stairs is much more convenient)
The ambulance took me to the hospital in Thayne and it is a tremendous facility for being in such a small community. The director of the radiology and imaging department was Brother Lemmon and we served on the high council together. Just a few weeks prior to my "fall" Brother Lemmon had been in the newspaper because of some new equipment that was installed. I'm certain that I wasn't the first patient to use it but I was grateful for the technology. While I was "in" the machine I could hear the Doctors talking about what they were seeing. It wasn't positive at all and when they approached me it was with the message that I would need to go to a trauma center. They mentioned Idaho Falls or Salt Lake City. Because my mom lived in Utah, along with some of our sons, I asked to go there. It had been storming and when they contacted the airport it was determined that there would be no flights out so a ground transport would be required.
As I was preparing to be loaded into the ambulance, a nurse brought a fellow over and said, "This is Charlie, he's the hospital administrator and he's going to drive". All I could think was "Charlie, Tuna" and "how can this guy, dressed in winter clothes and being so young, be the administrator?" My father had been a hospital administrator and this looked like a fellow who should be helping me build a fence. Charlie was wonderful although he had to be told to slow down several times by the attending nurses. By the time we were on the road they were administering IV drugs and I remember it as quite a pleasant 5 hours. In fact, both of the attending nurses have become friends and we stay in touch.
When I was able to contact Evelyn she made arrangements to fly to Utah. Michael and Andrew immediately took off for Wyoming and I think it was a Doctor that called them and said I was being transported to Utah. They were waiting for me when the ambulance pulled into the emergency area at the Murray Trauma Center. The staff stabilized me, did several tests and admitted me.
I wish I was able to record that my experience there was good. In fact, it was bad enough that I should've documented it and challenged the medical teams. They performed two major surgeries which included a plate and screws into my pelvic bones after they had repositioned the bones. I was told that if I had been moved or tried to move that the bone that was impacting my femoral artery would've caused me to bleed out. So, LaVor was correct. They then turned me over and placed a six inch rod that went from my hip to my pelvis. What they never addressed, even though there were several post surgery events which shouted the news, was that my back was broken in two places and the nerves were being severely stressed. It would not be for another 9 weeks before a doctor in Jackson Hole would identify the breaks and then complete three more surgeries in the hospital in Afton.
After nine nights in Murray I was discharged to Evelyn's care and we drove to my mother's home in Orem. I never should have checked out. My pain, even under medication, was so severe that night that I wished to die. That was not the first night I'd felt that way, nor would it be the last. I was being introduced to a time in life when I never had a single moment of peace, without pain.
I was able to walk, with crutches, and I stayed ahead of the prognosis for recovery but the pain wasn't going away. The only thing that allowed me enough of a calm was a fairly serious dosage of oxycodone. One of my close friends, from years ago in the classroom, had become an addict to narcotics. His story, and others like him, scared me so badly that I never took the total amount prescribed and had several doctors who would try various drugs. I tried Lyrica and Gabapentin and others. Nothing cut through the pain and the side effects were often very difficult to deal with. My mind would become muddled and my ability to remember was greatly diminished.
Dr. Joshua Beck, in Jackson Hole, was the doctor who performed the repairs to my back and he would end up attending to me five times while under the blessed relief of full anesthesia. Not long after he had become my doctor and was addressing the nerve pain, I asked him what the window of healing would be. His answer was that whatever recovery might come would happen within 18 months. Any pain that was still present would probably remain for the rest of my life. I am so grateful that the pain which I was still dealing with 18 months later, has indeed, gotten much better.
I still know, every day, that my left foot is "burning" and every single day, the pain increases from the moment I get up until the nighttime when I can lay down. I would love to have a position, sitting, standing, or anywhere so that I could find relief during the day. It isn't available and some days are worse than others, without any identifiable "cause and affect". However, I am so much better than I was two years ago which gives me hope that in two years I will be even better.
Before I conclude this rambling memory I must make mention of the blessings that came to me. My family rallied around me and friends were supportive. That spring all of the boys would find their way up to Wyoming to help with completing some of the many construction projects that I had started. They finished the pavilion, worked on the barn and helped inside the home. Friends from the community would come and visit and neighbors often came, before anything was asked, to make my life easier. Mike Wothe flew out from Wisconsin with his friend who was a carpenter. Those two men, along with Marie, Mike's daughter, spent a week working on the barn and the kitchen. Mike had been sitting in church, thinking about my accident when it came into his mind to come and help. He really doesn't have any carpenter skills but he had a friend who did so Mike came to Wyoming. Mike could have sent money and had me hire the work done but that wasn't his way of helping. As I watched those wonderful people cutting wood, and working long days, it became truly apparent what the meaning of brotherly love is all about. Today, our place is not just an evidence of my parents who started it, nor of my construction skills. It's a place that tells me how much I'm loved.
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