from Larry
In April of 1997, while working on the partial demolition of an old sale barn, I was struck in the upper thigh by a circular saw. We, my friend Steve and I, had worked all day on this project, taking load after load to the county dump. We were both tired, but there was not much left to do; so we decided to finish. I stood there for a few moments chastising myself for wanting to quit. I told myself, "You will keep going till it's done." I bent over to cut up one more old cattle gate to throw in the dump truck, when suddenly the saw caught in the wood and shot itself backwards...into my leg. People should know that I was aware it had a faulty saw guard, but was using it thinking better me than my friend Steve. Sounds noble I know, but I had already been joking that if I got cut it wouldn't do much damage, because I am a large guy. Oh, sweet irony.
Now, many factors are playing out at the same time. The saw rips into my leg, and stops a half inch into my leather belt (the one my brother gave me from an old police uniform). Because of my size, the blade did not hit an artery or bone or anything, other than the fat in my leg. Now the cut was nine inches long, and two and a half inches deep. Had my friend been using it, he would have likely died before help could be called.
Steve in that moment thought I had only ripped my shirt, having been bent over when it happened. I said, "Dammit, I'm probably gonna' need some help." He took off running for the phone in the barn, as I took my first shaky steps to find out if my leg was still attached. I made it as far as the landowner's home about 200 yards away, when I heard sirens in the distance. Help was coming. "Keep it together," I said as much about my wits as my leg.
So, here it is. The moment of truth. The blade was so hot from my refusal to quit, that it almost cauterized my wound from the moment it struck me; little or no blood loss. My very girth kept it from getting to anything major. The phone, in the sale barn had been disconnected years ago. The landowners were unable to get through to 911. No one in that area (at that moment in time) had a cell phone. Who called the ambulance? Most heroes are at best shy, but someone would have said something wouldn't they? The only answer is that as secluded as the area was where we were, no one but Steve and I knew what happened in the alotted time to call and get an ambulance; almost three miles through the residential section of town.
You decide. I already know.