My gift to you is a chance to learn from my mistakes
Part 1
Schneider: Best laid plans for time off from work take some detours
March 22, 2011 11:30 a.m.
. . . Going into the furlough week, I had a plan that allowed for both productivity and recreation. It went like this:
• On Monday, I would rent a hydraulic log splitter . . .
• On Tuesday, I would finish cutting the stumps of some dead ash trees I had previously felled and cut up.
• On Wednesday, my wife and I would fly to Austin, Texas, . . .
Monday dawned clear and cold - a fine day for splitting logs. I started just after 9 a.m. Around 12:30 p.m., I turned my back on the machine to stack some of the split wood. When I turned back around, the splitter was on fire. I don't mean smoking, or sparking: I mean engulfed in flames. It was still attached, by the way, to my Explorer and its 20 gallons of gas.
Flammable leak
I turned the splitter off, doused the fire with frantic handfuls of snow and hauled the machine back to the rental place. . .
Which brings us to Tuesday morning ...
I was finishing off one of those stumps when my chain saw kicked back, catching me right above my right kneecap. By the way, the protective chaps I own - the ones specifically designed to prevent just this sort of injury - were in my garage (Never again. I swear.) . . .
My first thought when I inspected the wound was that there was no way I was going to Texas on Wednesday. The second thought was that I should try to slow down the bleeding.
Full treatment
Using a reasonably clean handkerchief, I tied a tourniquet around my leg, hobbled to my truck and drove to Sparrow Hospital. Six hours later, I left the emergency room with only one leg of my jeans intact, a couple of prescriptions, numerous layers of gauze covering an indeterminate number of stitches (in two tiers) and instructions for self-doctoring.
Those instructions included no admonishment against flying to Texas, walking around Austin, driving to San Antonio, eating crawfish and barbecue, etc. There was something about the antibiotics not achieving their full potential when washed down with Corona. I'm always willing to compromise.
So, on Thursday, the family was together - one member on stage; four in the audience; one looking on, we trust, from the upper balcony.
That was when the sublime kicked in.
Call John Schneider at 377-1175, send a fax to 377-1298 or email jschneid@lsj.com.
Lansing State Journal Columnist
Part 2
Schneider: My gift to you is a chance to learn from my mistakes.
March 25, 2011 12:05 a.m.
While getting my stitches removed Wednesday (which resulted from last week's chain saw mishap), I asked my doctor, an occasional woodcutter, if he wore protective chaps (the kind that were hanging in my garage when I sliced my leg open March 15).
He admitted he didn't. At least he hadn't in the past. He seemed sincere in his commitment to seriously consider changing his ways, so perhaps my proselytizing - and the tangible evidence of what a chain can do to a leg - will affect his behavior.
I hope so.
The doc's admission came as no surprise to me. As far as I can tell, most weekend lumberjacks put nothing but their jeans between their saws and their flesh. Some don't even protect their ears and eyes, and it's a rare to see a casual cutter wearing the kind of helmet that once saved my noggin from a chuck of dead elm that knocked me to the ground, breaking my helmet but not my skull.
We're invincible
We think we have the power and control to avoid injury. Please believe me when I say you do not.
Go ahead and tell me you've been cutting wood for 40 years without bloodshed. So had I. Until last week.
That's called luck. You can hope it doesn't run out, but that's all it is - a hope.
Go ahead and tell me you know your saw is a coiled rattler, always looking for a chance to strike, and that treating it accordingly will keep you safe.
That's what's known as a false sense of security.
Think of the seat belt in your car. Ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time, it's a pointless bother. Then one day it saves your life, making all bother worthwhile.
Grim possibilities
Here's a guarantee: I will never be without my chaps when my saw is running - partly because of what happened but mainly because of what might have happened.
One of the doctors who examined the wound at Sparrow told me if the saw had cut me a half-inch farther toward the inside of the leg, I would have hit a major vein and chances are somebody would have found me in the woods that night, bled out.
An image like that will get your attention every time.
Denial is a powerful force. So powerful, in fact, that the chaps I own and employ about 80 percent of the time, have several slashes in them - clear evidence they have saved my skin in the past. More than once.
And, somehow, I still didn't think I was vulnerable. Explain that one to me.
We all hope to learn from our mistakes, and maybe share the hard-earned knowledge. So, here's my gift to you: Don't be stupid.
If you use a chain saw, get chaps. They're available in the kind of shops that specialize in selling chain saws and other power equipment.
Then, wear them. Every time.
Call John Schneider at 377-1175, send a fax to 377-1298 or email jschneid@lsj.com.
Lansing State Journal Columnist
Moral of the story -- Always were your personal protective gear no matter what. It may save your life or a limb.
