Today was turning out to be a pretty good day. George and I were finishing getting the apple tree cut down using hand tools. We had decided we couldn’t spend $275 to have a professional do it. We couldn’t chance waiting either with the T-storms that blow through this area. It was too close to the house. We were taking our time. It was slow going. George did most of the work while I supervised (nagged, hehehe). I helped clean up the mess. Of course we were doing everything as safely as possible.

Our neighbor spots are little endeavor and decides that he can cut it down lickity-split with his chainsaw. Did I mention I hate chainsaws? He comes over and tells George that he’ll finish the job with his chainsaw. He just needs him to hold the ladder. After about the third cut our neighbor decides he wants to move to get a better angle on a rather large part of the tree. I’m inside doing laundry watching this from the laundry room when I watch uneasily as the neighbor moves up the ladder with the chainsaw into the middle of the limb he is cutting and a limb that is attached to the limb he is cutting. I’m thinking to myself that this seems wrong.

Yes, it was wrong. Very wrong. As the chainsaw finishes it’s cut the limb our neighbor is cutting does a ricochet off the tree into his chest, throws him off the ladder, knocks the chainsaw out of his hands, and falls on him after he hits the ground. I thought he was dead. I really did. I come flying out of the house with the phone and George and the neighbors son are on the ground checking for breathing, pulse, blood… I’m asking should I call 911 when I notice how ashen my neighbor looks and he’s doing this fish out of water mouth and his eyes are rolling around.

I call 911 to explain the situation and to get an EMT out to help. As I’m doing this my freaking neighbor finally catches his breath, comes back to reality (he had been knocked out), and proceeds to get up. I’m yelling for him to stay put and he insists he’s fine. Now I’m apologizing to the 911 operator about the call and thinking the city is going to send me a bill for calling for no reason. I hang up and keep asking him if he’s alright and he says he’s fine he wants to finish the job. HE WANTS TO FINISH THE JOB.

What is wrong with people. I can see he is still struggling for breath (broken ribs or the like) and he’s having a hard time pulling up his left arm. I beg him to rethink the matter and leave it for another day. He finally caves in after he’s unable to lift the chainsaw. I mean come on people… you just fell off a ladder, were hit in the chest with a limb that had to weigh at least 100 lbs., and you nearly had a chainsaw accident to boot. Go home.

I was pretty shook up about the whole thing. My mind would not stop replaying the image of what happened over and over and over again. I was really getting anxious and shakey. I told George I thought I might be going into some kind of shock. Really. It was truly traumatizing to me. I’m still having a hard time with it. George decides it’ll make me feel better (I had been crying) if he went over to check on the neighbor. He wasn’t gone for more than a minute. Turns out the neighbor went to the doctor to have his shoulder and ribs checked out. Gah. I wanted to scream. Instead of feeling better I felt worse. We watched for the neighbors car to pull up in their drive for two hours. It was hell.

He finally gets back and tells George that he’s mostly bruised. He might have some hairline fractures in a couple of ribs (they wrapped him for it) and he pulled some muscles in his shoulder. They doped him up pretty well and told him he had to take a week off of work. Can you believe this crap? I cannot tell you how happy I am that he is okay while at the same time I’m super pissed that he got hurt while helping us do something we were perfectly capable of handling ourselves. Now he tells us that he’ll finish the job next weekend.

I can’t handle it. I told George I’m going out when he comes over and that he should keep his cell phone handy for 911.


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Thank you for taking the time out of your day to stop by and visit - you are always welcome here. I do my best to respond to you within your own comments on a post. This takes time. I try to plug away at a few things in between pulling my hair out and chasing down my three year old son. If you have a question or some pressing matter or even if you'd just like to strike up a little conversation... I can be reached via email at ruralmamaATcomcastDOTnet.


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