Like
Any Other Day, You Push On: Paul Gets Rescued After Nor’easter Nemo
Copyright 2013 by Lori-Ann
Willey
Lori-Ann’s Viewpoint
Though lengthy, this is my take
on the past several days. Paul has been
maxed out with meds to retell much of his thoughts and experiences so this blog is from my viewpoint. It is rather lengthy and choppy, but I'm still playing Catch Up On My Rest.
What Do You Do When One of You Gets Hurt?
When people learn of us living
off grid in the Maine wilderness, and then of learning of Paul and his
disabilities, the all too common questions asked first are, “How do you dare do
that?” and “What do you do if one of you gets hurt?” One of the responses we have said to people
in the past is, “Like anyone else that needs help. We can call in rescue if we have to.” However, never in a million years did we ever think
we would have to do just that! Though
many people always thought that I would be the one that would need rescue, they
were wrong, it was Paul.
Paul’s Initial Discomfort
For the past couple of weeks, Paul
had some hip pain, but because he has MS, walking in general is difficult and
he fatigues very easily. Living like we
do is challenging for him any season of the year, but winters are especially difficult. I presumed that walking in boots and extra
clothing was the cause of his hip pain. The
joke is, “just don’t fall”, meaning, we are so bundled up, that if either were
to fall, it sometimes requires crawling to a nearby tree, rock, or an inanimate
object to aid in the standing process.
Nor’easter Nemo Approaches
As Nor’easter Nemo approached, we
toyed with the idea of taking the ice shack off the lake before the storm. Watching the weather intensely like Paul
always likes to do, Nemo was expected to hit Maine harder further south than our
location, so with less predicted snow and winds meant less worries for us and
our shack. Because of this, we decided
to leave the shack anchored upon the lake some 3 ½ miles from camp.
The day before the storm, Paul
was feeling better, so he decided to go outside to help me out a bit. One chore was to locate some scrap plywood so
we could start brainstorming about how to widen the ice shack skis for easier
pulling after the storm. He located
those pieces, and that was good enough for now.
He then walked over to the Polaris Ranger and hooked up the connectors
so we would be ready post storm. He says
that when he tried to slide a water bucket that was resting inside the tote he
felt something go wrong in his upper hip, and felt pain in his back and thigh.
Once inside, he sat down and was
in severe pain. I was able to get him
undressed, but it took seemingly forever to do so. Every move was excruciating. Sitting down was not helping, so I helped in
into the bedroom and into bed. I brought
him light meals, meds, and a pee jug, and he did have warm coffee through a straw
two mornings in a row. After 24 hours,
his condition had not improved at all.
He could not move his body from the chest down without gasping in pain. By then, Nor’easter Nemo was winding up
pretty good, and despite his immobility and severe pain, he wanted to try to
wait out the storm. His hopes were to
see if the pain would subside on its own.
Besides, he did not want to call in rescue and possibly take away from
someone else that may need it more than he did.
He knew he was warm, dry, and had me to help him until after the storm
passed.
During the height of the storm, I
sat or lay with Paul, wondering what to expect of our situation. While the rest of the state had real “survival”
concerns such as heat, electricity, running water, transportation, etc. we did
not have to share those same concerns.
Living off grid and the way we have our set up, losing such necessities
did not apply to us in the typical sense.
I was not concerned with Nemo that
pounded down upon us. I was not
concerned with the strong winds that were throwing branches at our camp and
about the lake or the tree that crashed down over the top of our popup
camper. I was not concerned with
electricity loss, heat loss, or water loss.
I was not concerned with the wind, snow, or cold. Our transportation in here is snowmobile only
for eight miles. I could have left if I
had to. The problem was, could
Paul?
Paul was now into his second day
of immobility and ruthless pain. To
call help now would mean possibly taking help away from someone else in a more
dire need due to the storm. Not only
was he in excruciating pain to the point of being sleepless, nauseated, and
practicing Lamaze techniques almost constantly, he was unable to urinate on his
own, afraid to eat anything that would encourage a bowel movement.
I have been Paul’s medical “aid”
since 1995 and part of that aid has been to be as helpful as I can to make his
daily living easier. Though his physical
abilities have changed over the years, we have learned to adapt and carry on as
a new “normal” if you will. We have been
very happily married for over 28 years, and we have been through a lot together,
so when people question our sanity for living in the woods like we do, we
understand their concern, but do not share it.
We live. We love. We laugh.
He is my best friend. Together,
we can conquer anything if we set our minds to it…and I truly believe
that. So, helping him walk across the
room, giving him weekly shots, cathetering him when needed, and helping him
get dressed is part of our adapted daily living. I always say, “I am the
muscle. Paul is the brain.” However, with that said. We now found ourselves in a predicament…and
at the height of a nor’easter blizzard named, Nemo.
The night had already been long for
us both, and the longer Paul went in such pain, it became evident that whatever
was going on with his back was not going to subside on its own, but we still
had hope. In the meanwhile, we still had
to plan ahead for that just in case scenario.
A major concern for us both was the ice shack. We already decided that if Paul had to leave
camp for medical help, then we needed to get the ice shack off the lake, and it
was looking like I had to do that by myself once the storm let up.
That evening, we knew without a
doubt that we had to call in help. Even
with the aid of a sheet to help Paul move even the slightest, we both knew I
could not even consider trying to get Paul out to the nearest hospital by
myself. If he had some mobility, I
could have possibly helped him get into a well cushioned tow behind tote and
then snowmobile him out to town that way, but we both knew there was no way
that was possible. This was when I
started packing to leave camp.
The Ice Shack Dilemma
That night was another near
sleepless night for us both. As I lay
there countless hours on end listening to him in pain, I felt as helpless as he
did. Throughout the night, I never
stopped thinking, planning, organizing what had to be done the following
day. I visually planned each step so I
would be efficient. I knew exactly how
to pack what was needed, what needed to be done, and how to pack the tote so
well I could have done it in my sleep as I have done that numerous times in the
past. My concern was with the ice shack.
I ran every scenario through my
head at least once. I knew I would have
to head to the shack some 3 ½ miles via snowmobile and tote, and knew I wanted
to be upon the lake by sunrise. I knew I
would have to empty out the shack as much as I could to make it as light as
possible. My concern grew as I thought
how there was no snow left upon the lake before the storm and with Nemo dumping
dry, powder-like snow upon that ice, the surface would be slippery as
hell. I knew that I would have no choice
but to use the Polaris Ranger with tracks on it to even have the slightest hope
in moving the shack, but will the tracks merely spin in place while attempting
to pull the shack off the blocks?
My mind started thinking that if
I were able to pull the shack a mere couple of feet, then what happens if I cannot
pull it after that? The ropes would be
cut and if I could not pull the shack, I knew I could not push it either. I would have to jack it up where it sits,
drill corner holes and secure the shack for a later date. Then, I wondered, what if the weight of the
shack formed a dimple in the ice, so when I went to drill holes to secure the
shack, would I instead flood the shack and have the same situation form as we
had last year with the other shack? (Read Blog) Then what? I would have to double
layer the blocks in hopes that 18’ish inches off the ice would be enough. So, that was figured out.
Then, my mind wondered another
“What If…” Our last day ice fishing a
few days prior found us fishing along a newly formed pressure ridge. I had no fears of that pressure ridge, but I
did fear cracks in the ice that would allow water to seep up. The new dry snow would act like a wick making
a thick slush layer. In the past, such
slush areas have proven very problematic.
Have you ever shoveled deep, cement-like slush for hours on end? What happens if I run across one of those
unseen-until-I-Get-Stuck slush areas with the Ranger and the shack? Could I shovel them out?
Could I drill holes and jack the shack up there with water constantly
seeping above the ice? No, because then
again, we would have the same situation as we had last year! Then what?
I would be stuck abandoning both the Ranger and ice shack, and wading in
the snow some 3 ½ miles back to camp, or less distance depending on how “lucky”
I was.
Much of the night left me
pondering such scenarios, what would I do if this happened or that
happened? It is at times like these when
I draw from past experiences, experiences of others, and all those times I
thought I was not listening to Paul when he told me stuff…part of my brain was
still listening, and was I ever thankful that it was! When I had worked out the answers for any and
all situations, only then was I able to let myself drift off to sleep.
Predawn came way too early that
morning, but I had no time to waste. The
sooner I got stuff done, the sooner we could call rescue and get Paul out of
here. My first question was if there was
enough gas in the Ranger to complete the task.
He said there was. My next couple
of questions were about low and high gear and their maximum speeds with the
tracks. Once I knew that, I was all set
to go. I told him that snow amounts
pending, which route I planned to take out to the shack, and that my first trip
was to lighten the weight load. However,
when I stressed concern about the tracks spinning in the dry snow on slippery
ice, he suggested leaving the heavier stuff in the shack on the first trip, and
instead put them on the back of the Ranger to help with ice gripping. That was an idea that had not crossed my mind
and it made perfect sense!
The day before, I got a Facebook
message from a new camp owner a few miles away.
He and his wife had seen that I took pictures of camps upon request by
other camp owners. One, they like to see
their camp surrounded by snow, and two, it
gives them a visual to see how their camps were fairing during the winter snows
and winds. I always comply with such
requests. However, this time, I private
messaged the strangers back and told them of our predicament with Paul, but
that I was planning on making a trip out to get the ice shack and could take
the route by his camp, and if I did, I would be more than happy to snap a photo
for him. He quickly offered to help me
retrieve the shack despite living like 1 ½ hours away at best. Another stranger messaged me asking
questions about our solar inverter type.
I do not know much about our solar set up, and told him that Paul was
currently immobile, but when he was able to, he would gladly answer his
questions. He, too, a total stranger,
offered to come help me out. Both men
gave their phone numbers and asked me please not to hesitate to call them. The generosity of these strangers will always
be warmth to the heart. How wonderful of
them to offer, but for now I declined help from both.
By then, Paul was making mobile generic updates on Facebook,
but soon people knew he was off his “game” and questions started coming in
quickly until he made a more specific post letting people know of our
situation, but not wanting to worry family and loved ones, he kept the posts
minimal and low key. It did not
matter. Private messages were coming in
right and left with offers of help, phone numbers given, etc. I did not have time to read most of them, and
Paul was in too much pain to reply. I
was determined not to have help in here.
Someone coming in to help get Paul out of here is one thing, but to help
me do what I can do faster by myself
would only slow me down and take longer to accomplish. Though grateful for all the offers, I knew
what I needed to do, how to do it, and just wanted to get to doing it all. I did tell Paul that if I ran into a problem
with the shack, that I would abandon it, and would take those two men up on
their offers to help. That was a big
step for me to admit that I would need help if I failed in my attempts, but I
had no time to grovel in such thoughts.
What had to be simply had to be….like it or not, but if I had no choice,
I admitted that I would call.
As soon as I could see the
mountain, I grabbed my phone and gave Paul a kiss before I was out the
door. Another camp owner asked me to
glance over at their camp the next time I want by, so as I drove past her camp,
I snapped a photo for her. I took the
alternative route so I was also able to snap a photo of the other new camp owner’s
camp, too. While over that way, I
eyeballed the camp of another friend, and I could relay the good news that
their camp looked fine, too. Three camps
seen, and three camps looked like they were in good shape after Nor’easter
Nemo. I would be pleased to share such
information with those camp owners.
This was probably the last
morning for me to be out on the ice for the remainder of the winter, so as the
sun came up behind me on my way out to the shack, I stopped and snapped a few
photos of the beauty that pushed me along.
I was pleased that I reached my goal to be out on the ice before
sunrise. The mountain was exceptionally
beautiful that morning, but I think it was because it would be the last time I
would see it for a while. I remember
sticking my bottom lip out and pouting, but that only lasted a second or two. I now spotted the shack over a mile away, and
it was still standing. WOW! That was such a relief to see!
Luckily, for us, it appeared that
only about six inches of snow fell from the storm, but it was so hard to tell
the actual amounts because so much of it was windblown. I scrutinized the ice and snow all the way
out to the shack, testing for track grip on the ice and snow, looked for newly
formed pressure ridges, and looked for hidden or not so hidden areas of
slush. I was good to go so far!
Once at the shack, I was relieved
to see that there was no drifting on the hitch end of the ice shack. I was not looking forward to shoveling snow so
the Ranger hitch would reach the ice shack hitch. I quickly emptied as much of the shack as
would fit in the large pull behind tote, and soon I was snowmobiling back to
camp within minutes. The temperature was
five degrees with a nine mile per hour wind at camp before I left, which means
the wind-chill factor was about -10 degrees below zero. Out on the lake, the winds were more
plentiful, so cooler. I was dressed
appropriately, but I have difficulty working with gloves, so my fingers did get
cold while carrying metal items, but that just made me work faster is all.
On the way back to camp, I stayed
on the path I made to the shack. I paid
close attention to any new changes from just a few minutes before. I looked for new cracks, for new water
seepage, etc. The ice was plenty safe
enough and about two feet thick the entire way, so I was not concerned with
thin ice. I was concerned with
slush. I still saw none. Again, I was relieved!
Once back at camp, I parked the
sled to the side and went in to check on Paul.
Soon, I was back outside, started the Ranger, and was off to get the
shack. WOO HOO! I had a good feeling that all was going to go
smoothly as long as there was enough snow to for the tracks to grip that ice!
The first thing I did was pull up
to the ice shack door and emptied out the heavier ice shack contents, locked up the shack so the door wouldn’t come
flying open on me for some reason, and then drove around to the hitch. I stopped about 10 feet from it, and assessed
the situation. I knew that there was
very little play in the shack hitch, so I had only about two inches to the
right or left, an inch play on either side, for those two inches. It was going to be tricky because with the
tracks, the Ranger does not respond quickly like tires would, so I had to use
my best estimate. It took me three
different attempts to line up the hitches.
Each foot or so in reverse prompted me to get out and visually align the
hitches, figure in the reaction turn time and back up again making corrections
if needed. After about ten minutes of
this, I finally lined the hitches up perfectly.
Ahhhh! I was so relieved.
Next, I had to be brave enough to
cut all tie down ropes and then kick free the blocks underneath the skis. “Now, if I can move the shack without
spinning upon the ice I’ll be a very happy camper!” I got in the Ranger, and repeatedly
mumbled…ok, begged, “Please, please, please, please be nice to me”. Before long, I was on my way toward
camp! Ahhhhh! About a mile or so away, I stopped on a thick
patch of snow and called Paul to let him know all was fine and I was heading
back toward camp with the shack. I could
hear the relief in his voice. I do not
know which one of us was most relieved to be honest with you.
Paul Made the Call
When I got back to camp, I needed
to rest and catch my breath a bit. It
was like 10:36am, and Paul thought that he wanted to make the call to rescue by
11am. Though I understood he was in
pain, I was like, “What? I am not even
ready for them to come through the door.
Honey, I am still packing! There
is no way they can get in here right now.”
I don’t know if it was my tone, or my plea, or him feeling sorry for me
having to do all this work without his help, but he understood that if they
came in here in record time, they couldn’t get him out of here without me
having to move all the stuff that was blocking the way. I asked him if he could wait until I was on
my way out to the truck with first tote full.
I ran down through a list of things that still needed to be done that
were top of my list. I was not being
selfish, and I was not afraid of being
left alone to finish up what I needed to do, but there was literally no way for
rescue to get from the door to Paul in the bedroom. In all honesty, knowing in the past that it
takes a minimum of two hours for police to get in here, and up to a week before
we get a response from Game Wardens, that habitually, we fully expected to have
to wait for many hours for rescue to get
in this far, too. I wanted to play it a
bit safer and wait a bit longer to call…just in case, and I am glad we did!
I got Paul dressed and boy did that take a long
time! Then I was rapidly bringing stuff
outside to be organized into the tote.
Finally, I was ready for him to call.
He waited until he could no longer hear my snowmobile in the camp yard,
and made the call then.
From camp to where we park the
truck is eight miles of snowmobiling. I
was toting behind a heavy and very full covered tote, so despite the good trail
conditions, I was traveling 20-24 mph to the truck. It did not take me long to unload the three
food coolers, and other necessary bags, before I was heading back to camp. With an empty tote, I still had to drive slowly,
just not as slow as on the way out is all.
By the time I crossed the bridge over Millinocket Stream, I thought I
could see a white square vehicle through the trees up ahead. Thinking it was just a new snow height, I
continued. As I approached the
intersection we call “The Four Corners”, I could not believe what I saw! The ambulance rescue team had driven as close
to camp as they could drive. The fire
truck and trailer had already unloaded their snowmobile, and inside the
ambulance was a man and woman gathering needed supplies in a bag. I remember so clearly saying to myself as I approached, "How in hell did they get here so fast? Holy Shit!" I crossed the intersection, parked and
walked up to them, and spoke, “You must be here to get my husband?” The man
replied, “Mr. Willey?” I shook my head
yes, and he replied, “Good, we can follow you in then." and asked, “What can you
tell me about your husband?” Not
expecting questions, I replied, ”He’s 49, has MS, and is in a lot of pain.” He continued to ask me questions and I
answered them the best I could. They
were very focused and none of them missed a beat in their preparations.
Soon, I was leading them in
toward camp. Once there, I still had to
move several things out of the way so they could venture through to the bedroom
to start tending to Paul. Watching them
work was impressive. One of the first
things they did was give him a shot of fast acting, short lasting medicine
called Fentanyl (?). I do not know how
many times they had to give it to him, but a few, I think. They were a team, and like a well-oiled
machine, they worked so fluently together that I just stood there watching in
awe. They knew their job well, and they
were very efficient! It was a nice
surprised to hear that they were a husband and wife team. No wonder they worked so well together! They not only made Paul feel comfortable, but
me comfortable as well. I knew instantly
that he was going to be in good hands. I
left the room from time to time so I could continue gathering more stuff for my
last trip out of camp behind the rescue team, but first, I had to catch AhChoo,
the cat!
I helped them the best I could,
but with the tight quarters and corners, I was more of a hindrance than a help. Soon, Paul was in the snowmobile rescue
toboggan, and with his snowmobile helmet on and laying down like he was, I
couldn’t help but think how he looked like he was in a single man luge sled…I
was almost jealous! I love to watch the
sport. Once he was all packed in secure
and comfortable-like, the wife was going to be the driver of the snowmobile,
while the husband sat back tending to Paul on the toboggan. Off they went.
The Final Trip Out
After about a half hour after
Paul left with the husband and wife rescue team, AhChoo finally came out of
hiding while I was putting the finishing touches on the tote. I was
able to put him into his cage, wrap the cage up in a wool blanket and bungee it
to the back seat of my snowmobile. After
going back inside to double check everything, setting the security system up,
AhChoo and I were on our way to the truck eight miles away.
At the truck, my first goal was
to get AhChoo into the truck, comfortable, and warm before I unloaded the tote
and then loaded the snowmobile onto and secured in the trailer. When I went to unstrap his cage, I glanced in
at him and he apparently had been facing outward the entire eight miles out. I had to laugh for the first time in
days. All that fine powered snow that
had been kicked up from my snowmobile track and AhChoo’s face was now misted with
snow. He looked like a white cat instead
of a brown one. It was adorable, but I
was in too much of a hurry to snap a photo.
I wished I had taken the time now, and so does Paul. Before
long, we were on our way to the nearest hospital to see Paul.
At The Hospital
I had not been there at Paul's side before he was taken to X-ray. The staff
there were not only wonderful, but funny.
A joke between the nurses and Paul was already an ongoing one, so they
filled me in on the fun so I could chuckle, too. By then, they had given Paul a dose of Valium
to work as a muscle relaxer. I do not
know how much of that they gave him, but it was not working for the pain, so
they went straight to a morphine push after that.
Before long, a nurse came in to
tell us we had a visitor. It was our
good friend, Hope of the Bob Hope (husband and wife) couple we know and love so
dearly. She had come to see if there was
anything she could help with. She had
offered help numerous times over previous days, but it was all a waiting game
then, so there was nothing anyone could do even up until Rescue was
called. As much as I hated to, I asked
if she had room in their driveway for our snowmobile trailer. She offered me a place to stay if Paul should
have to stay in the hospital. We hugged
and told each other, “Love you.” Before
we had even left the hospital she messaged saying her and Bob had already
retrieved our trailer, and it was safely in their yard until we came to get it
at another time.
Just as soon as Hope left, I went
outside to get Paul’s wallet for his Military ID so they could fax in some
prescriptions when a familiar voice spoke to me from about five feet away. I looked up to see another great woman, our
friend Nancy, and in her hand, she held out a yogurt and a spoon and told me to
eat! I had mentioned in a message that I
had not eaten anything all day, and I agreed that I was beginning to feel
hungry, especially after being on the go from before sun up, and it was now after
5 pm. She followed me inside and we
stood talking for a few minutes when I realized I had to get the card to the
nurse. Nancy waited for me to return. I came back through having to leave quickly to
get to the Hannaford Pharmacy before they closed at 6 pm. We gabbed for a couple more minutes and then
she followed me out to the truck. I was
so fatigued that I do not think I was making much sense, as she looked as
confused as I felt. She also offered me
a place to stay for the night if they should keep Paul. When I declined, she offered to take the cat
for me as the cat cage was taking up Paul’s seat, and the back seat was
literally filled from floor to ceiling with stuff to go home with us. She looked at it all and her mouth
dropped. She said she felt bad that they
were not there to help me with it all. I
smiled and said, “This is what we do.
I’m used to this.” She shook her
head and looked at me with the most pouty, sad look upon her face, but I was
still smiling. I agreed that I was tired
as we gave hugs upon departure. Her last
words to me were either, “EAT!” or “Love you”
I beat the closing time to
Hannaford by 12 minutes. WOO HOO! While the nurses were still getting Paul
dressed, I reorganized the backseat and made room for the cat cage, so Paul
could have his seat back. Once back
inside the hospital, that poor receptionist…I don’t know how many times she had
to stop what she was doing to push the button to let me back into the ER, but
she did so every time with a smile. I
could hear Paul talking and the nurses laughing. Paul was doped up with lots of painkillers
and I could tell his voice was fatigued, but that does not stop him from being
himself…always comical. I turned the
corner and both nurses were tying up his boots.
I had to chuckle at the things nurses put up with.
Soon, the nurse came in again and told me that we had a
phone call. This time it was Paul’s
sister Angela wanting an update. She was
not happy to hear that Paul was being released and asked how I felt about it. At the time, I did not quite know. It seems I
arrived late and each time he was given information about his back pain, I was
not in the room. She told me people were
getting anxious wanting updates about Paul that we were not posting and
updating on Facebook due to being busy, Paul having X-rays, blood work, or
sleeping, etc. She asked if it was OK
for her to post that she spoke to us and that he was being released. I agreed and thanked her graciously, because
otherwise, we were already getting so many messages that it was impossible to
read even ¼ of them.
It took three of us, all rugged
women to help Paul into a wheelchair.
His X-ray’s came back good, as did his blood work, so no reason to keep
him. Because he was in such pain still
that he could not move on his own to sit
in a wheelchair even with the aid of three people, the doctor ordered another
shot of morphine to help him tolerate the two-hour or more trip to our home in
Palmyra.
I Simply Knew My Shit
I would like to point out all
those people who called me a “hero”, “super woman”, “amazing”,
“unbelievable”, “Bad Ass”, “stubborn”,
and countless other names, because I simply did what needed to be done…I did it
because I knew how, because that is the life that I live, we live. One cannot live like we do and not know how
to do things that need to be done. I
have said it before in a previous blog entry that there are no defined woman vs.
man jobs when living like we do. It all
has to be done. Simply put, I have to know
my shit, and living like YOU do, you’ve gotta know your shit, too. It’s all relative, but the more you know, the
better off you will be when it comes time to put it to use!
Thank You
I have to say that the amount of
support shown by family, friends, and strangers was simply amazing. Who would have known that so many people would
show such outward concern and love, and the numerous offerings to help to two
loonies in the Maine Boonies?
And to the AMAZING response team....WOW! Thank you all.
