The Broken Man

About this time 32 years ago, I gave my husband a little plaster fireman that a friend painted for me. It sat on our shelf  by the fireplace for 29 years.

This morning my husband came in and lay beside me on the bed. "I have a confession to make," he said.

"What's that," I asked, still half asleep.

"You know that little fireman you got me that Dee made a long time ago? I broke him."

I was quiet for a moment. "When did you break him?"

"Sometime ago when I was cleaning the shelves for you, when you were really sick."

He had hidden him on a high shelf behind the TV speaker, turning him sort of butt out so I wouldn't notice the little guy was broken. And were it not for the fact that I plan to clean those shelves thoroughly today, dear husband might have gotten away with it for quite some time.




My little guy, still whole (a 2013 photo).

Now he has a concussion.

Not to mention, a broken helmet.

Here he is with a few tiny pieces (that were stuck inside
of him and I didn't see them until I took the above photo).

After I rose from bed, I looked to see the damage. It's a pretty big hole, and I know nothing about plaster. I will ask an artist friend if he is fixable. I won't throw him away until I know, but he will be relegated to a closet shelf, poor guy.

The Deer Are Not Afraid

We have lived in our house for 29 years. The animals are used to us. They stand and watch while the car drives up and down the driveway. They will run a few yards when we walk out the door, then turn and look at us as if to say, what did you bother me for?

When my husband was mowing, I glanced out the window and saw this:

There are actually two deer up there; one is a little further in the back and I shot this through the window screen.

Isn't it amazing how close they come, though?

Moving a Tree Limb

The other night, a very large dead limb fell from one of our trees in the backyard. It landed standing up, like a tree itself, leaning against its former owner and another tree.

We could not leave it there for fear it would fall on someone's head.

So hubby brought up the backhoe.

Hubby on backhoe getting ready to attack tree limb.



He moved the backhoe bucket ever so gently, like a mother cat stroking her young.



He moved the bucket and pushes on the limb.



The limb caught on another tree, of course. So he lowered the bucket and lifted from the end of the branch.



Tada! The big branch is down on the ground, ready to be sawed up and placed on the wood pile.
 

From My Valentine

A pretty red box



Full of Godiva chocolates



With a secret surprise



Of love in the middle.

Thursday Thirteen

Yesterday was my anniversary - 32 years of marital bliss to the same guy. In an age where many people have been married multiple times, I'm not sure how we've managed to hang on to one another, but we have.

My husband is a hard-working fellow. He has three jobs - he's a Battalion Chief with the local city fire department, a septic tank installer, and a farmer. He is a good guy and I'm lucky to have him.

Anyway, here are 13 pictures of my husband.

As a baby. Isn't he cute?



In September 2015.

A few years ago.



He rides a motorcycle, too.

On the tractor.

In his dress blues.

Asleep and unaware.

He loves to hunt.

A rare day off.

In his uniform again.

As a young firefighter.

Standing by his bride.

On his 50th birthday. I threw him a surprise party at the fire station, and he was not overly happy about that.

_____________

Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while and this is my 421st time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday.

Thirty-Two Years of Marital Bliss

Man at Work

Making a few little changes



The kind I only watch.



It is good to the Queen.

Happy Birthday to my Sweet Baboo

Today is my husband's birthday!

Best husband in the world!

A Happy Man

 

Here is my beloved, doing what he loves to do best.

 

 

Play in the grass and make hay bales.

 

 

This is how we spend Memorial Day weekends around here.

 

 

Making more and more haybales.

 

 

Big suckers, aren't they?

 

A Happy Man

On July 5, as regular readers may remember, my husband smashed his hand and arm in a hay baler. He required two surgeries and hospitalization. He's been seeing an occupational therapist since August.

He has regained most of the use of his arm and hand, but his last remaining concern was using the throttle and brakes on his motorcycle. So his machine sat in the garage. Until yesterday.

Yesterday, he went for a ride.

All of that therapy and hard work paid off.

He said he had no trouble with the controls at all.

He's been riding a motorcycle since he was 12 years old.

There he goes, almost back to his old self. His physical therapy ends this week - they're letting him go. He has about 90 percent of his use back in his hand, and they expect the rest to come back over the next six months.

Not only is he a happy man, he's a very, very lucky one. We certainly have this miracle to be thankful for this Christmas.

Thursday Thirteen

Next week I celebrate 31 years of marriage to the same guy. This may not make me an expert on marriage but I think it does qualify for a little advice-giving when it comes to keeping a partner happy. So here, in no particular order, are 13 ways to please (and keep) your mate.



Us as old people

1. Listen. It is important to hear what your significant other is saying. Sometimes a person simply wants to be heard, to spout off, to get things off of his/her chest. They don't need advice.

2. Give advice if asked, and don't be offended if they don't heed it. Remember, you and your partner are separate individuals functioning as a unit, but the individuality still exists.

3. Respect the other person. Don't make fun of his/her ideas, thoughts, efforts, whatever.

4. Compliment your significant other. It is quite easy to tear one another down, but building up is better. Tell him/her they look nice occasionally, that you like a haircut, that you are pleased with something they did.

5. Keep complaints to a minimum (try not to nag). Keep the annoyances to yourself. I know it can be frustrating to have to keep picking up socks or cleaning the sink or whatever your pet peeve is, and it is okay to mention it every now and then in hopes the other will understand that this is important to you. But if he/she doesn't get the message, don't take it to heart.

6. Be interested in what your partner does. Ask about his/her day. As questions about what he/she is involved in, ask him to explain why he made a certain decision or how it impacted the project or whatever.

7. Touch one another. I really think Americans are a touch-starved lot, we've all got that Biblical Puritan Ethic thing going on that means you can't kiss or express physical affection and it appears to be deeply ingrained in our society. My husband and I hold hands while we watch TV, we hug every day, we kiss one another on top of the head. Give your loved one a foot massage, or a hand massage, or a shoulder massage.

8. Be individuals. You don't have to like the same things. If he doesn't like minty fresh toothpaste, then have two tubes of toothpaste and give him what he likes.

9. Don't have extended periods where you're angry with one another. Being married to a man who is involved in three different dangerous occupations (firefighter, farming, and construction), I learned a long time ago not to let things linger. I don't want something to happen and know that our last conversation was an argument over something insignificant. We have been known to be late for work or appointments in order to settle a difference before heading out. It really is that important.

10. Be friends. I think it is very important that you be friends with the person you live with and are in love with. Apparently you can be in love with someone and not be friends with them, but I really don't see how that could work out in the long run. Sometimes love waxes and wanes, but if you are friends then you can work through it.

11. Mind your manners. With family, it is easy to slip into a mode where you don't say please and thank you. But I think it is even more important to say these to people you love and care about. Why wouldn't you? Acknowledgement in a kind way is always good.

12. Choose your fights. It is important to know what is worth fighting over. You can fight about every little thing if you want to, but all that does is erode the relationship. Pick your battles and leave the arguing to the things that really matter. If something doesn't make any difference five years from now, it probably isn't worth the words.

13. Discuss money and financial matters and settle on something you can both live with, and stick to it. Early in our marriage, we agreed that any unnecessary purchase over $100 had to be discussed with the other. As time has passed, that number has grown a bit, but we still discuss major purchases of any kind with one another. 


What advice would you offer to keep a relationship going?


Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here. I've been playing for a while and this is my 369th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday.

How I Met My Husband

This is the week of the anniversary of the day I met my husband.

The day was much like this one - Autumn in full bloom, the trees bursting with color. It was a Friday and I was a year out of high school, still trying to find myself. It was October 15, 1982. Ronald Reagan was president, nobody knew what a cell phone was, and the Internet wasn't on anybody's mind. People actually carried on conversations in person and did not text, if you can believe it.

A friend suggested we go to the annual Lord Botetourt/James River school football game. The two in-county high schools had a keen rivalry, and there was sure to be folks there we knew.

My husband-to-be was standing under the goal posts in the end zone (I don't think they let you do that anymore), hanging out with his buddies. Somehow or another (prearranged by friends, I think), we ended up standing together.

Conversation was slow. I asked questions about the game even though I knew football and didn't need the answers.

Finally, he asked me if I'd go out with him the next night. I told him I couldn't, as I had plans to celebrate my parents' anniversary.

After the game, I went to Mike's Market, located in what is now Bellacino's. He showed up there, too. My friend suddenly told me she had a ride home, and I should go dancing with this new fellow.

And so I did. We went to the dance hall at the Ramada Inn, which is no longer there (though the hotel still stands at the Hollins exit, and I can't remember what it is now). 

We sat and listened to the band, and danced some, but not much (he is not much on dancing) and had our first kiss.

The next day he called me and asked me what I was doing Sunday afternoon. I told him I was taking the Sunday school class to Walden Park off Plantation Road.

He asked if he could come with me. I agreed, and this he did. He didn't complain or anything when one of the kids threw up in the back seat of my mother's car.

And that was how I stopped being single. We were married a year and a month later, when I was 20. He proposed in July 1983 and we married that November.


(Though to be truthful, this was not the first time we'd met. We had ridden the same school bus for a while as children. I remembered him but he did not remember me, which is natural as I was four years younger. Also, he had shown up at our house a few months earlier with the volunteer fire department to help put out a brush fire that started when my father was burning a pile of debris. When I met him that day I was hot and sweaty from trying to help Dad put out the blaze. I don't think he noticed me then, either.)

Update on Hubby

Here's a quick update on my husband's condition after his incident with a hay baler on July 5. He is doing physical therapy and has mobility in his hand and arm. He can't make a fist yet and still has swelling. He has new skin and scars, as most of the hide on the top side was taken off by the hay baler belts. He has one long scar down the inside of his arm where the surgeons had to cut him open to release pressure and repair and remove damaged blood vessels and nerves. He looked a bit like Frankenstein there for the first few weeks, but now, not so much.

 

He still can't drive, which is frustrating for him, but in time he will be released for that. The doctor said he had to be able to make a fist before he would release him to drive and he still has too much swelling for that.

 

His prognosis is good. By this time next year, hopefully this will all be but a memory.

 

Hubby Update

After a three-hour visit to the doctor's office today, I am happy to report that my husband is doing well.

You may remember he mashed his arm in a hay baler on July 5. He had two surgeries and spent five days in the hospital.

The stitches came out today and sterile strips put in their place. They also removed the hard cast and replaced it with bandages and a sock-like thing. I will have to change the dressings on the top part of his arm where the baler belt rubbed all the skin off every couple of days. I am no nurse, so that should be fun.

He will begin his physical therapy on Monday.

He has feeling in his hand and fingers but things are very tender. He has swelling, too, so will have to continue with elevation. The doctor said that the tingling and pain should begin to subside in the next few weeks.

Activity remains limited.

All in all, a good report.

Thanks again for the good wishes, prayers, calls, emails, cards, food, and love. We are blessed even if we are calling each other Crip 1 and Crip 2 at the moment (after Thing 1 and Thing 2 in Dr. Suess, don't you know).

Friends and Firefighters

The brotherhood between firefighters is no secret, but I am here to testify that it does exist.

Farmers are also a rather close-knit group, and I can testify to that, too. I am privileged to be a member of both communities.

And then there are my friends, my wonderful women friends who have shown me more love in the last 10 days than I ever thought possible.

During those first hectic hours after my husband staggered home from having caught his hand in the hay baler, my husband and I made several other phone calls. One was to my husband's captain and close friend, Kevin, to let him know my husband was injured and wouldn't be a the fire station the next day. Another was to my husband's cousin, Alan, who is also a firefighter. We asked him to tell my mother-in-law and be with her when she heard my husband was hurt.

Then I made calls to my brother and two of my closest friends. Since I was already not well myself, I knew I might need support to get through whatever was coming.

Support came from everywhere. We live in a farming community, and once the word was out, it seemed every firefighter in three counties knew my husband was hurt, and every farmer in Botetourt was aware there had been an accident on the farm.

Over the next hours and days, calls came. And came. And came.

Moments after the ambulance brought my husband into the emergency room, I hobbled to the desk (I am now using a cane when I walk any distance because of a problem with my right leg). They would not let me go back to my husband. "Check back in 20 minutes," the girl said.

That simply wouldn't do. Not three minutes later, I saw what I was looking for - that beautiful blue shirt with Roanoke Fire-EMS blazed across it. I urgently called the emergency responder to me, even though I didn't know him, and told him I was Chief Firebaugh's wife, and the chief had been in an accident. "Can you get me back there?" I begged.

He took my arm and ushered me through big double doors, and I was by my husband's side. Within an hour, Duane, one of my husband's firefighters on his shift, was there. Others were calling.

They came visiting after his surgery, and I had to ask the nursing staff to limit the number of people in the room, and to turn people away if they felt they must. Otherwise, I knew, the firefighters would be checking on my husband with every call to the emergency room. I asked the captain to spread the word on my husband's shift that visitation needed to be limited for a few days, until we could get him through his surgeries. He did that, and I take full responsibility for any disappointment the firemen felt for not being able to visit their chief. But he needed his rest, and he was my first priority.

Offers poured in from all corners. Firefighters volunteered to help get up hay, to help with farm chores, to mow the yard. My husband's two cousins took over the chore of cow-caretaking, looking after the beasts, helping an old one calf, making sure the water was flowing and the grass was available for their feeding pleasure. Cousin Alan checked with me daily to see what I needed.

I knew if I needed anything, all I had to do was make a phone call and a firefighter would make sure it happened. I never made that call, but it was a relief to know I could if I had to.

By Sunday morning, the morning after the accident, my husband was being lifted up in prayer by at least six church congregations, probably more. I know a lot of good energy was being directed his way.

My friends came to take care of me and to support me during this difficult time. On Sunday, I started an email update, which grew from a couple of my closest friends to more than 25 women over the next several days as folks expressed their concern and desire to help.

One of my close friends is laid up from a surgery, but she answered the phone every time I called. She let me cry and listened to the stress in my voice. She soothed me as best she could. Sometimes a friendly voice on the other end of the line is good medicine.

My friend Teresa worried over me and stepped up to help. She was a strong ally and I was and am so very grateful for her friendship. She went to the grocery store for me. She stayed with me during my husband's second surgery. She practically carried me from his room to pre-op that day as I struggled to keep up with the gurney as they wheeled him down the hall to the operating floor.

One day she drove me to the hospital, because I'd not had much sleep and she was concerned about my driving. My brother brought me home that day.

Teresa also came and helped me ready my house for my husband, and then sat me down and made me eat dinner. I lost six pounds on the "husband mashes arm in machinery" diet, not one I recommend to anybody. It is easy to forget to eat when you are sick with worry. She could see how I was struggling. She took care of me when I forgot to take care of myself.

I am grateful to my friends for recognizing that this accident didn't just happen to my husband, it happened to me, too. We've been married for 31 years - we're a team, James and I, or yin and yang, as one friend put it on Facebook. Together we are better than the sums of ourselves.

Botetourt has a population of over 30,000 people and sometimes it seems like a sprawling bedroom suburb of Roanoke. Last week I felt like it was a small town community, and I was keenly aware of how close-knit the farmers are, how strong the brotherhood of firefighters is, and how lucky I have been in the friendships I have made over time.

Family is what you make of it, and last week I learned that mine extends far and wide, with brothers in blue and sisters in farm hats. From one end of the world to the other, we are all connected, each and every one, and I cannot thank those who helped enough, in whatever small way, for assisting my husband and me through this difficult time.

This accident of my husband's has been a humbling and awesome, if heart-wrenching, experience, and a great lesson for me in the love of humanity, each for the other. Great gifts often come through tragedy, and I am honored to have been able to watch them unfold as folks have stepped up to help.

My thanks to each and every one of you.

Man Mashed in Machinery

FINCASTLE, VA - A Botetourt County farmer mashed his left arm and hand in a hay baler in a farming accident on Saturday, July 5.

The incident occurred around 2 p.m. James F., (blogger's husband), a 55-year-old local cattleman who has been farming all of his life, caught his arm in a John Deere round bale hay baler.

Mr. F. said he had left the tractor idling and the baler running while he used an air compressor hose to clean out the round baler after finishing up one of his hay fields.

"That's where I messed up," Mr. F. said. "I should have cut the machinery off."

The air compressor hose was sucked up into the revolving baler belts, taking Mr. F.'s arm with it. Mr. F. was trapped between the belt and the roller. Because of the force exerted on Mr. F.'s arm, the baler hung up, causing the tractor to stall, momentarily shutting down the baler. At that moment, he was able to pull his arm free. 

"I had my pocket knife out, hoping it was sharp enough to cut the baler belts," Mr. F. later said. His pocket knife and a broken watch were later found at the rear of the machine.

Mr. F. rinsed his arm off, wrapped it in a sheet, and drove himself up to his home, a distance of about a half-mile, on his utility vehicle. He went inside and told his wife he need to go to the urgent care facility because he had cut himself on the baler.

At the urgent care, medical personnel quickly realized the extent of Mr. F.'s injuries and called the local rescue squad. He was transported to Roanoke Memorial Hospital. Around 9 p.m., Mr. F. was taken back for surgery to his forearm and hand. He sustained a severe laceration at his thumb, as well as a broken thumb, and the intense pressure on his arm mashed the muscles and blood vessels, creating a serious and life-threatening condition called compartment syndrome. The wound also had severe contamination from the farm equipment.

Swelling in the arm forced surgeons to make an incision down the inside of Mr. F.'s arm from his middle finger to his elbow. The incision was left open and a vacuum pump installed to withdraw fluid in order to save the arm and expedite healing.

Mr. F. underwent a second surgery Monday afternoon so surgeons could inspect the arm. The swelling had subsided significantly and the surgeons were able to close the incision. Mr. F. was released from the hospital on Thursday afternoon with a good prognosis.

Mr. F. and his wife would like to thank family and friends for their prayers, phone calls, and other assistance during this difficult time.


Bloggers note:

I'm a reporter by trade, and while I was trying to process what happened, I wrote some of this out when I was sitting by my husband's hospital bed. It's easier for me to be objective in "reporter mode." I know folks have been keen to know what happened, so here you have it, just the facts.

Thurday Thirteen

My husband has been in the hospital since Saturday. He got his arm and hand caught in a hay baler. He did not lose his limbs. His arm was badly smashed and he had severe lacerations. It took two surgeries within three days to get him to a better place of healing. Time will tell us how much use of his arm he may have lost. But the main thing is he is alive. It could have been much, much worse.

So here are 13 quick observations:

1. Farm machinery is dangerous.

2. It only takes a split second for inattention to turn into tragedy.

3. Ambulances are bumpy rides.

4. ERs are so full that people are treated in the hallways.

5. The waiting rooms at ERs are filled with people who look like they would be better served at an urgent care facility or doctor's office.

6. The hospital cafeteria does not serve up very many healthy items, and they super size.

7. Hospital food still tastes as bad as it always has.

8. Some nurses are better than others, just as some people are better than others. You treasure the good ones.

9. The whole system needs a revamp. There should be an urgent care right beside the ER so the less urgent folks can be shuffled there, and the real emergencies dealt with. I think I said something similar already but I'm stressed, so forgive the repetition.

10. The whole hospital feels like one big disease.

11. Late Saturday night surgeries, when you and your brother are the only ones in the waiting room, are pretty damn scary.

12. It is better not to send flowers to the hospital. It is just one more thing for the caregiver to have to keep track of. Wait until the patient is home, then send all the flowers you want.

13. Many people offer to help and sincerely want to, and that is a great treasure.

Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here. I've been playing for a while and this is my 352nd time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday.

Happy 55th

Yesterday was my most excellent spouse's 55th birthday.

 

He had to work. We went to dinner Sunday night to celebrate, but birthday celebrations should last many days. I like to take the whole month, myself.

 

Anyway, I wanted to see him at the firehouse on his birthday, so after my physical therapy, I dropped in on him.

 

Actually, a COW and I dropped in on him.

 

 

This is my friend Teresa, who has very kindly been taking me to physical therapy on the days when I've not felt well enough to drive.

 

She also likes to, um, dress up as a cow. She does this at the elementary school for reading programs. Yesterday she did it for my husband. It was her idea.

 

 

 

The firefighters were highly amused.

 

 

 

My most excellent spouse turned a little red around the ears, but I don't think I embarrassed him *too* much.

 

 

 

My most excellent spouse and his new friend, the cow.

 

 

 

I had ordered him a special John Deere cake, complete with tractor.

 

Now how many 55 year old guys get that kind of treatment on their birthday, eh?