It was a cold January morning as the Chevrolet Suburban raced down the back country road with my son-in-law at the wheel. He was ignoring the stop signs and the 40 MPH speed limit as he rushed me to the hospital 14 miles away.
I was building my wife a 24 foot by 24 foot shop when I was struck with a heart attack. This is number 5 for me so I’m no stranger to what was happening. I had taken several tablets of nitro but to no avail. I finally called my wife who works at the hospital in town and told her what was happening. She in turned called my son-in-law who lives next door. She woke him up and asked him to bring me to town. He’s a police officer working the night shift.
He violated every law in the book getting me to the hospital. The trip which normally would have taken 35 minutes was reduced to 17. As we raced down the highway dodging traffic and passing cars in the no passing zones at 15 to 20 MPH over the designated speed limit my mind started to wander back to a trip I took 45 years ago.
I was 16 and had been driving with a license only a short time. I considered myself a competent and experienced driver however not everyone had the same opinion. Unfortunately my Dad found out that I had been hot-rodding his pickup on a back street in the town and he took a very dim view of burning rubber and cutting doughnuts in an intersection, I had lost my driving privileges for a couple of months.
On Wednesday evening about a week after my license had been confiscated, my Dad informed me that Freeman, a friend of the family, needed to cut firewood to heat his house for the winter. Freeman had just recently had a severe heart attack and wasn’t supposed to be doing anything strenuous. My Dad explained that I would be going with Freeman on Saturday to cut firewood for him. Two of our friends Jim Smith and his son-in-law Paul were going to help and also cut some wood for themselves.
Saturday morning broke cold and threating snow. The temperature was in the mid-twenties. It was a typical November day in Central Oregon. My Dad drove me to Freeman’s house and dropped me off. As I was getting out of the truck he reached over and handed me my driver’s license. “You drive Freeman’s pickup, and don’t let him try to do anything. Your there so that he doesn’t have to work.” I told him that I understood and I would take care of Freeman.
Jim and Paul were already at Freemans so we loaded a couple of chain saws and a splitting maul along with gas and oil for the saws in Freeman’s pickup. As we were getting ready to leave, Freeman’s wife came out with a basket of sandwiches and several thermos of hot coffee. “You boys are going to get hungry up on the mountain and its cold today so the coffee will help warm you up.”
Jim asked me if I knew how to get to Whistler Springs? I told him that I did. “Good, just in case we get separated that will be where we will meet up with you and Freeman.
Freeman said “I ought to know how to get there I’ve only been cutting firewood up there for 35 years.”
The road out of town ran due north for 4 miles and then the pavement stopped and it was dirt road from then on. My Grandfather had ranched up this valley that we were traveling. Freeman had ranched farther up the valley from my Grandfather. From the end of the pavement it was still 24 miles into the Ochoco National Forest to get to Whistler Springs.
I had known Freeman all of my life. He and his wife belong to a horse club which I was also a member. Freeman had loaned me a horse from time to time when my own was crippled up or needed a rest. His son was several years ahead of me in high school and his daughter had been in several 4-H clubs with me. He had worked for the railroad along with my Uncle until his health made him retire.
Freeman was the kind of person that you wanted to be like. I had never known him to get mad. I’m sure that he did from time to time but as a young man I had never seen him lose his temper. Even when a horse would throw him or fall with him, he would get up and dust himself off and laugh at himself. Then climb back on the horse and try it again.
We had gone about 10 miles when it started to snow. Freeman’s pickup was a new Dodge that he had bought from my father. It was a ½ ton 2 wheel drive, with a 4 speed transmission. He had good snow tires on the back so I wasn’t having any trouble. The only thing that worried me was the truck didn’t have any weight in the back so the rear wheels would spin real easy if I stepped to heavy on the gas. Once we got a load of firewood in the truck there wouldn’t be any problem. The weight of the wood would give us all the traction we would need. In the mean time I needed to be extra careful as we worked our way up the mountain.
Jim and Paul were ahead of us in a 4-wheel drive pickup. I knew if we slid off the road or got stuck and didn’t show up at Whistler Springs that Jim would come looking for us.
The snow was coming down harder and it was 6 inches deep on the road. I was starting to have trouble navigating the turns on the narrow one lane road that traveled up the mountain. We were traveling at 5 to 7 miles MPH as we eased up the road with a 30 foot drop off on the driver’s side and the mountain rising up from the passenger’s side. I finally told Freeman that I was going to stop and put chains on the rear tires.
Freeman said “If you can find some rocks on the edge of the road throw them into the back and that will help give us some traction along with the chains.”
I made him stay in the truck while I laid the chains out behind the back wheels. I then got in the truck and backed up onto the chains. Once the rear wheels were on top of the chains I could pull the chains up around the tires and fasten them in place. I was able to find several large rocks alongside the road so I threw them into the back of the truck. By the time I got back into the truck my ears, nose and fingers were so cold that they ached.
Freeman had a cup of coffee poured for me. ”Here this will help you warm up,” he said. It felt good just holding it in my hands.
As we sat there waiting for me to get warm Freeman ask if I had gotten in trouble over spinning the tires on my father’s pickup. I told him that Dad had taken my license for 2 months. He apologized and said he was the one who told my Dad about me cutting cookies in the intersection. Freeman had been coming up the street behind me when I goosed the truck and spun it in a circle.
I looked at him and laughed. “I shouldn’t have done it. I knew better. Don’t feel bad about telling Dad. It was my own fault for not using better judgment.” He looked relieved and I realize that it had been bothering him. He knew that I got in trouble and he was afraid I would be mad at him for telling on me. I think at that moment he and I both learned something about each other. He realized that I might be more grown up than he gave me credit for and I realized that Freeman actually cared about what I did and what I thought about.
I put the truck in gear and started up the road. What a different a set of tire chains makes. I didn’t slip or slide at all. Those chains dug into the snow and ice and propelled us forward up the mountain. I had traveled about a hundred yards when I stopped. Freeman looked over at me and asked “Is something wrong?”
“No, I just want to check the tire chains to see if they are tight enough. Once they make a few revolutions they might loosen up a little on the tires.”
After making the necessary adjustments we were back on the road. A short time later we pulled up to Whistler spring.
Jim and Paul had a fire going to keep warm. The temperature was below zero and the snow was coming down at a steady pace.
Jim had a log on the ground and he was cutting off blocks 18 inches thick. The tree was a good 3 feet in diameter so as Jim cut through the tree with the chainsaw Paul was driving a wedge into the cut to keep the chain on the saw from binding.
My job was to roll the blocks over to the back of Freeman’s pickup and then split them into useable pieces of wood to feed a stove or fireplace. When I had a pile of wood split I would stop and throw it into the back of the pickup. I would get up in the bed of the truck and stack the wood in rows so that we could get as much wood as possible on the truck.
Unless you have gone out and cut firewood you don’t really appreciate wood. It is one of the few products that have the ability to provide you with heat twice. Once when you fall a tree and split it up, and the second time when you burn it in the stove.
By the time I had split my first batch of blocks I had shed two layers of clothing and thinking about losing a third.
Freeman kept trying to help. He would pick up the wood I was splitting and set it on the back of the truck. I would stop and tell him to quit. “You’re not supposed to be doing that. The doctors said no physical labor for 6 weeks. That means you still have 4 weeks to go before you can do light duty like this. Besides it’s too cold for you to be doing anything. You need to go over and sit by the fire and stay warm.”
“I’ve never sat around and done nothing when there is work to be done,” he said. “I am doing fine. If I start to get winded I’ll go sit down. I really don’t see any reason that I can’t help out as long as I take it slow and easy.”
“Freeman, I promised my Dad that I wouldn’t let you work. That’s why I am here, to do the work for you. If you really want to do something, how about getting out the lunch your wife made for us and get it ready. You know how we teenagers are. We’re always hungry. I sure Jim and Paul are about ready for a break as well.”
As we gathered around the fire, Jim and I rolled several of the cut rounds over for us to sit on. Jim asked “How’s Freeman doing? Is the cold bothering him? I see he keeps trying to help you. You do know that he’s not supposed to do anything.”
“Yes, I know but every time I turn away from him he tries to help. I keep telling him to stop. I do understand how he feels. He never was one to stand around and do nothing. It’s hard on him.”
“Well it’s better to be hard on him than to have another heart attack.”
Around the fire the conversation ranged from everyone wanting to know what the doctors were telling Freeman, to Jim telling us about getting a new colt that he was supposed to train. Paul was telling about one of his boys getting his leg broke when he jumped off a running horse. The boy said he was trying to be a bulldogger. Me, I sat and listened to the talk and thought how good it was to be sitting around sharing a fire with friends.
We had been back to work about a half hour and I was stacking firewood up in the back of the truck. Freeman was setting on the tailgate talking with me. He stood up and reached down for a piece of firewood when he knelt down and then slowly lay down in the snow.
I yelled at Freeman asking him what he was doing but never got a response. I yelled at Jim but he couldn’t hear me over the noise of the chainsaw. I took off my hat and threw it at Jim as I jumped off the truck and bent down to check on Freeman.
Jim and Paul came running over as I rolled Freeman on to his back. Jim asked what happened. I told him that Freeman just bent over then lay down almost as if he were going to take a nap.
Paul asked if he was alive.
I started to check for a pulse but noticed that he was still breathing. I replied,” Yes he’s alive. Does anyone know if he has any of those pills that you are supposed to give a person who has had a heart attack?”
Neither Jim nor Paul knew whether he had any or not. I started to go through his pockets but he had on to many layers of clothing. I would have to undress him one layer at a time in order to check all of his pockets.
I turned to Jim and asked him what he thought we should do. He said that he didn’t know as he had never dealt with a heart attack before and Paul hadn’t either.
At sixteen I hadn’t had any experience, but I felt that I was about to learn. Since we didn’t know what to do I decided that we needed to get him to town where there were people who did know how to help him.
I told Jim to help me get him into the pickup. We half drug and half carried Freeman and stuffed him into the truck. I never realized how big a man Freeman was until we tried to put him into that truck.
Once I got him in the truck I braced his legs up against the heater and leaned him over against the passenger door. Back in those days the trucks didn’t come with seat belts and I could have used one.
All the time I kept talking to Freeman telling him what we were going to do. I didn’t know if he could hear me or not but I felt as long as I talked to him he would be there to listen to me.
Jim said that he and Paul would gather up all the equipment and follow me into town.
As I started down the mountain I was glad we had stopped and put the tire chains on the pickup. The road was 8 inches deep in snow and we were the only ones who had traveled it.
All I could think about was get Freeman to the hospital as quickly as I could. The road was slick and I was driving way to fast but I had to get to town. I remember thinking how glad I was that it was Saturday because I would have to be watching out for logging trucks hauling logs out of the forest if it were a week day. Instead all I had to worry about were other wood cutters on the road who were coming up to cut firewood.
If I had met any other vehicles I am afraid they would have been run off the road because I couldn’t have stopped if I had wanted to. I came off that mountain sliding and slipping. I came around one corner sliding sideways down the middle of the road. The mountain rose up on one side of the road and a twenty five to thirty foot drop into a canyon was on the other side of the road.
As I slid off the mountain I kept a close watch on Freeman. I kept talking to him as if he could hear everything I was saying. I kept telling him to stay with me and hang on. I was glad he couldn’t see how I was driving his pickup. The trip down the mountain was bad enough it would have given him a heart attack.
After one particular scary curve Freeman started to blow bubbles as he breathed out. It was rather startling, after only hearing me talking, to hear noise coming from Freeman. I realized that he had slumped down in the seat and his head was resting on his chest making it difficult for him to breathe out. I reached over and leaned his head back against the window of the door and he stopped blowing bubbles.
I don’t know how I made it off the mountain but the next thing I knew I was on the valley floor. I was only eight miles from town. I had 4 more miles of dirt road and then 4 miles of pavement.
When we had left town that morning there wasn’t any snow in the valley floor. Now there was four inches on the ground. Hopefully the pavement has snow on it because I was not going to stop and take off the tire chains.
When I reached the snow covered pavement I was rocketing down the road at eighty five miles per hour and trying for more.
When I got to town, the road came down off a hill into town. To get to the hospital I had to make a left turn at the bottom of a hill and go up another hill to the hospital.
As I started off the hill I could see an ambulance coming through town with its lights flashing. It was headed for the hospital. I decided that they were going to have to wait for me because Freeman needed help right now.
Just before I reached the road to the hospital I shifted down into third gear, tapped the brakes and turned the steering wheel. It put me into a sideways slide down the middle of the road. When I came even with the road to the hospital I let out the clutch and stomped on the gas. The tire chains bit into the snow and grabbed the pavement underneath and propelled me up the hill. The ambulance was right behind me but I kept the throttle to the floor and I pulled into the emergency entrance a minute and a half ahead of the ambulance.
I jumped out of the truck and ran into the hospital. The first person I saw I grabbed and explained that I had a man outside who was having a heart attack. She informed me that they would take care of the ambulance first and then they would look at my friend.
At sixteen I didn’t know anything about protocol and rules on how things are done. All I knew was Freeman was out in the truck and he needed help. I got in the nurse’s face and I told her that she was going to take the time to check on my friend right now and the ambulance was going to have to wait.
She turned to another nurse who had come up to us as I was laying down the law and she told her to go with me and check on the guy in the truck.
I ran out and pulled open the passenger door so she could check him over. I was holding Freeman up so that he wouldn’t fall out of the truck. She walked up and looked at him and said, “He’s dead, there isn’t anything we can do for him.” She then turned and walked back into the hospital.
The suburban slid to a stop as I looked up at the emergency room entrance to the hospital where my wife works. She is standing in the doorway waiting for us to arrive. I got out of the suburban, thanked Rick for getting me to the hospital and walked in to see my wife.
She led me over to a room where a nurse is sitting at a desk filling out paperwork. My wife told me to sit on the bed that was along the wall while she gave the nurse all the information so they could admit me into the hospital.
The pain is expanding up my neck and down my left arm. I am starting to get nauseated and sick to my stomach. I decided to lay down on the bed to see if it will help ease the pain.
As I lay there I see one of my daughters outside the door. It was her husband who brought me in. I wave to her and smile even though I really don’t feel like smiling.
After a minute or two I need to sit back up. My wife reaches over and helps me sit up and I explain that lying down is making it worse.
I don’t understand why they aren’t helping me. All that’s happening is the nurse is asking a bunch of questions and I am getting sicker and sicker. After forty five years I guess I still don’t understand the need for protocol.
I think back to Freeman and his arrival at the hospital. At least I made it in the front door before I ran into the protocol wall.
My wife is really worried I can see it in her face. She is holding my hands as if to steady me as I sit here on this bed. I look up at her and say “uh oh,” and the world does a slow fade out to black.
Now I'm beginning to wonder if this is a true story or not? I think it was the ending, Because, before that, I thought it was a true story. Six heart attacks by 60 sounds like someone did some hard living that led up to an early demise.
Reminds me of the time last December while I was being much worse each day from pneumonia taking over my right lung more each day with no drainage. It took seven days before they decided to operate and save me from a certain death.
It's almost Christmas. Lynn Basil is writing her last book about a secret entrance into the magical doll land of Sha Bebe that she loves so much. Bagannos have taken over the world! Lynn finally meets her dolls in real life. Can she write in a Secret
