I have the utmost respect for Emergency Room doctors, as I’ve had experience working in those, and it is certain that one will encounter some really sad cases. I will relate a few to you.

In medical training at Baylor we were required to work in the emergency room at Ben Taub Hospital, where most serious cases in Harris County were taken. We worked there 12 hours on and 12 hours off for a month. Some crazy surgeon types claimed that they sadly missed half of the interesting cases with that schedule!

You would treat all types of conditions there, but when the emergency bell rang every doctor and nurse in the place ran to the trauma room and the action exploded. The patient was surrounded by people, each with a task. Any bleeding was stifled, at least two IVs were started, usually one in each arm, a urinary catheter was inserted, if necessary the patient was ventilated with bag and mask, and someone arranged the overhead x-ray machine to take images. (initially to diagnose a collapsed lung or kidney damage) Usually these patients were members of the Friday Night Knife and Gun Club.

It was usually not so chaotic in the ER at Nevada City Hospital (later NRMC). For the first eleven years of my practice at the Nevada Medical Clinic, we had to “cover the ER”, which meant that after a hard day of work in the office we would, every fifth day, take over the ER from 6 pm until 6 am and then return to another work day at the clinic.

We happened to all be at a staff meeting at the hospital when ambulances brought in victims from a car-train accident. A mother had pulled up onto the track even though a train was approaching, and the train hit her car, killing her and I think two of her three sons. We did the best we could, but a room next to the ER became a morgue.

I was on call when a young man was brought in after having shot himself in the head with a .22 rifle following a disagreement with his girl friend. I was not able to secure any help from another doctor, but gave what treatment I could, such as high dose steroids and diuretics to help reduce swelling in the brain. The worst thing was that no ambulances were available for transfer to another hospital, not even from any of the surrounding towns, and the helicopter was not flying. I think we had him in our ER for 3 or 4 hours until we could arrange a transfer.

Another man arrived at the ER with a nail protruding from his eyeball! It was an accident from a nail gun, as the nail evidently had bounced up from some surface to his eye. He got transferred quickly!

I was also on call when two drunks were brought in after they had left a bar on the Missouri-Kansas line and then while driving proceeded to depart from their lane and strike a young lady head on, killing her instantly. I recall that they were using some foul language in the ER and I threatened to use surgical tape over their mouths if they didn’t stop.

I was on call when a prominent local man came in “code blue” with a cardiac arrest, and we were unable to resuscitate him with oxygen, medications, and electric shocks. I was also on call when his wife came in at another time, having been beaten over the head with a pipe by men who had invaded her home. I sewed up five lacerations of her scalp. It’s notable that I had dated their daughter as a teen.

Perhaps the saddest case of all involved a man who was working at a local filling station east of town when he tried to estimate the amount of kerosene in a tank by using a match for light. The explosion burned him from the waist up, and he pleaded with me to kill him in the ER. He got pain relief and a rapid transfer to a major burn center.

Pray for our ER doctors. Their life is not an easy one, and they are always on call to help you when it’s needed most.

Dr. Jones

EPISODE 37 Frigid Flight

The Grumman Yankee painted in Navy trim was just what I was looking for in Trade-A-Plane. It belonged to an ex-Navy pilot who was president of the American Yankee Association, and he was selling it, I learned later, because he had cancer and not long to live.

He was from North Carolina, and it would be necessary for me to go there to get the plane after we agreed on the price. It was December, and unusually warm here in Nevada, Missouri, actually in the 70s. I flew commercially from Joplin to Charlotte, where he and his wife picked me up and treated me to a delicious supper and a stay at their home.

The next morning we went to the hangar where my dream sat. He had arranged for his friend who was an instructor pilot to check me out in the Yankee. We took off from that grass strip with me at the controls and landed at the new airport at Concord, built to accommodate visitors to the race track there. I was put through all manner of flight, including a method of losing altitude in a hurry if the need arose! I passed and bought the plane (better than “buying the farm”).

It was still in the 70s there when I took off for Spring Creek Lake, Kentucky, my first stop on the way home. When Jim refueled the plane we were still basking in 70 degree weather. That changed when I radioed ahead to my next planned stop at Cape Girardeau, Missouri. Conditions were IFR there, instruments only!

Well, Spring Creek Lake was a fly-in resort, so I checked in and that evening a horrific wind and rain storm passed through. I checked with flight control, but the next day was no better for flying, so I was stuck there another night.

On the third morning flight control said that they thought “I might be able to make it”. I had to use a spatula from the kitchen to scrape the ice off of the wings, and when I took off it was snowing! As I flew over the Bowling Green airport in heavier snow I elected to land and refuel. I called for the runway in use and received the answer back, “We’re using 21”. I assumed that was the airport calling me, but it was, in fact, a business jet that was also landing there, and I cut him off on the base leg when he was on final approach, causing him to go around. That pilot was quite gracious in the terminal, however.

I made the landing at Cape, and when I landed back at Nevada the air temperature was 4 degrees! Thankfully, the plane had a good heater. That little plane was great, and it took Valo and me from Nevada to Cody, Wyoming and the next year to Bowling Green, Kentucky for the national AYA meetings. It was a small plane with a big engine, and I loved taking many people up in it.

Dr. Jones

EPISODE 38 Engine Quit

There I was, making the first flight after having the engine overhauled in Tulsa, and all of a sudden the engine quit!

I immediately declared an emergency and turned toward the airport. I turned parallel to the runway, ready to make a standard downwind leg when I noted that I was dropping much too quickly to fly the pattern. I then made a rather steep, descending turn to the left at which time the propeller stopped. The nose needed to be pointed sharply down to preserve air speed. I did make it to the runway and experienced a slight bump before coming to a stop in the grass along side. The Nevada Fire Department was waiting for me, but fortunately their services were not required.

It’s sad to say, but this was really, as it turns out, not an emergency. I had run the left fuel tank dry! I should have immediately switched to the right tank and would have continued the flight. But, the belief that the engine was at fault since it had just been overhauled displaced common sense. Another link in the chain to near tragedy was that the airport operator had ALWAYS refilled the tanks after each of my flights, except for the previous one!

The only damage, other than to my pride, was to the left wing tip which actually struck the runway in that steep left turn landing, and I repaired that myself. What was learned? Memorize the rules for various situations, and don’t replace them with assumptions.

Dr. Jones