Judy now says that I had fainted, been unconscious long enough that she had called 911. The first ambulance that arrived was from Noble County, sent down to cover a nearby emergency because some of the members of Whitley emergency workers were attending a funeral of one of their members’ family, and the emergency had been resolved as they approached Merriam, and when they heard on the emergency channel of mine, they realized they were probably closest to the scene.
They were almost immediately joined by a Whitley ambulance crew, with an accompanying two person Churubusco VOLUNTEER fire team. They were so good, well trained, and experienced that they, together, stretchered me out, almost ignoring my directions, without touching our Christmas Tree or Lights, down the front steps, and into the first ambulance in line, and whisked me over formerly rough Road 450 East to Parkview Whitley Hospital. Our fire department is made up of volunteers: volunteers also perform many of the necessary duties at our hospitals, and we all should thank God (and them), frequently!
Volunteers are often called on to do jobs that societies, communities, and public facilities can not get done on our taxes and contributions, which we grudgingly pay, and we should thank them in every way possible, just as we should thank our family members, friends, and neighbors. Thanking is much better than criticizing, and I have done both, and experienced both, and firmly recommend the “THANKING.” The next day after Judy drove me home, neighbors who had noticed all the emergency vehicles in our driveway, called to see if they could help, and I am thankful for all the attention. This is like country life when I was a child, many, MANY years – and tears ago. Well, on Monday, Dr. Willyard, my wonderful country Doctor, will explain what “syncope” means, (what the hospital discharge paper says I had!) and how he was successful in getting me early release from the hospital so I could return home and write this!
In the early 1930’s, we had an early phone, high on the wall, in the kitchen. My mother had been a nurse before she married my father, and in an emergency, our nearest doctor would hitch his horse up to his buggy, and the horse would trot to our house. He wasn’t paid much – mostly products from our farms – and he was the only trained Doctor around; there were no labs, no technicians, no ambulances! We live in a wonderful, modern, medical community. I saw, heard, and experienced more computerized, non-invasive examination of what – if anything – was going on in my head, heart, and body, than was even thought of when I was in the Marines, exposed to danger. And now, because of laws passed under presidents elected by us in the past, we even have Medicare to help pay the high cost of the available medical miracles – if you live to the required age, and paid the taxes as required – but I believe we also should thank those who provide this excellence – with no more than adequate pay – but also with frequent “Thank You, For What You Do.” And if you, as we do, live in Whitley County, where us old people on Medicare get free emergency service, thank your government! . . . . good gardening