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Doug Dezotell

Musings and Memories

Doug Dezotell is pastor of Cannon United Methodist Church and a former staff writer for the Times-Gazette.

Bad to worse

Sunday, August 2, 2015

Have you ever had one of those days when everything just seemed to go wrong?

From the time you woke up in the morning until you manage to crawl into bed at night, one thing after another goes wrong, and your whole day is just messed up.

I hate it when that happens.

Yes, those days happen to all of us at one time or another.

Thankfully, for me at least, it doesn't happen very often.

I recently heard a story about a man who experienced one of those trouble-filled days.

This fellow had an old motorcycle sitting on his patio out behind his house that he worked on from time to time.

One day he was working on his bike and he finally got the engine started and it slipped into gear.

He was holding on to the handlebars and the motorcycle took off dragging him along with it.

The bike and the man crashed through the glass patio door and both were dumped on the hardwood floor in the middle of the dining room.

The motorcycle knocked over the dining room table and chairs.

The man's wife, hearing the horrible noise, came running from the front of the house and found her husband and his motorcycle laying on the floor.

There were shards of glass embedded in the man's face and hands, and blood was dripping all over.

She ran into the kitchen and grabbed the phone and called for an ambulance.

When she heard the sirens in the distance she ran out to the front yard to show the EMTs the way into the house. The house sat on a fairly large hill and so she went down the several flights of long steps to the parking area to get the emergency personnel.

After the ambulance arrived and loaded her husband onto a stretcher, they made their way back down to the ambulance. The wife planned to follow them in her car.

She went back into the house and thought she had better do some cleaning up. So, she picked up the motorcycle and wheeled it back out onto the patio.

She noticed that gasoline had spilled out on the floor in the dining room, so she looked for something to wipe it up in a hurry. The paper towel dispenser was empty, so she got a handful of toilet paper from the bathroom and wiped up the gas. She tossed the wet toilet paper into the toilet and headed out to her car to get to the hospital and check on her husband.

He was laying on a gurney in the emergency room when his wife got there, and the nurses were busy cleaning his wounds.

After doctors stitched him up and his other cuts were bandaged they released him and sent him home.

When he arrived at the house, he looked at the broken door and saw the glass all over the room. He saw the damaged dining room table and chairs. And then he went out to check on the damage done to his motorcycle.

Feeling overwhelmed, he went back into the house and went into the bathroom, sat down on the toilet and smoked a cigarette.

When he finished his cigarette he flipped it between his legs into the toilet bowl while he was still sitting there.

The wife, sweeping up glass in the other room, heard a loud explosion and her husband screaming.

She dropped the broom and ran into the bathroom. There she found her husband, laying on the floor, crying out in pain.

His pants had been blown away and he was suffering from burns on his buttocks, the back of his legs, and his groin area.

The wife ran into the kitchen and grabbed the phone, calling 911 once again.

The same ambulance crew was sent out to the house, and the wife met them once again at the bottom of the steps.

She led them back up the hill to the house, and the two men loaded her husband onto the stretcher and began carrying out to the ambulance.

While they were working their way down the steps, with the wife behind them, one of the paramedics asked the wife how her groaning husband had burned himself. So she told them the story of what happened.

The two men carrying the man on the stretcher started laughing so hard that one of them dropped his end of the stretcher, and the husband rolled off and down the remaining steps.

The husband, now crying out in pain, broke his arm from the fall.

Now that, my friend, was a bad day.

I hope your day goes better than his.

In closing...have a good day!

-- Doug Dezotell is a columnist for the Times-Gazette and welcomes reader comments at dougmdezotell@gmail.com.

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