I'm not too sure how I should introduce the events of this past weekend. Usually I try to give some background information first, but this time I think it might be better if I just spit the point out first, then maybe that'll uncover a more detailed analysis.
So, Dennis, or "The Cable Guy" as I probably referred to him in earlier posts, was up in South Dakota at the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally last week. Thursday night, at approximately 11 o'clock, his harley struck a deer that jumped out of the ditch beside the road. He was thrown from the bike and was rushed to a small hospital, and immediately getting there, he was life-flighted to a larger hospital in Rapid City where he later died early Friday morning. After a sharp, hard blow to the head, he had lost consciousness, never regained consciousness, and later slipped into a coma before finally dying after an attempted life-saving operation to remove pressure from the brain. How did I know thats what the doctors wanted to do? Well...This is where I go into further detail.
I was spending the night with Buck when he received the terrible news alittle after 5AM Friday. While I headed to work a couple hours later (early, because I couldn't just stand around doing nothing at home) Buck went to Dennis' house to console and be consoled. He was considered to be the son that Dennis never had, and Buck looked to him as a more prominent and dependable Father figure. Buck called me while I was already halfway to the funeral home and told me that the family wanted me to help with the arrangements. I was honored and terrified at the same time. Dennis had told me on July 4th that if something were to happen, he wanted me to take care of him and his family. It was like he knew. I remember him being responsible in some way or another for many of my special moments with Buck, whether it was inviting both of us to his house for a party, or needing us to run back to a bar in the middle of nowhere to pick up some signs. So even though he was a man I didn't know too well, he was a genuine, down-to-earth father and husband and a great guy who made such a huge impression on everybody he met.
So time came to receive his body from the airport and finally find out what sort of condition he was in. Obviously, the embalmers in South Dakota had something else on their mind, or were really rushed, because they completely forgot about the huge incision stretching from the back of his neck to right above his eyebrows. The doctors had made the incision and then stapled it together. A GOOD embalmer, practicing common sense, would remove the staples and restitch the damn incision. They were obviously not GOOD embalmers. And the pressure from the flight made it so much worse. I won't go into great detail, but it was obviously a half-ass job. The other funeral director and I stayed till midnight pulled out all the staples and surgical rags from incision, and when we got all that cleared out, we noticed that the doctors didn't even put the skull cap back in place. They had obviously sawed half the skull cap off to relieve pressure from the ruptured and expanding brain, but didn't even think to return it to its proper place. So in effect, there was nothing keeping all the gushy brain matter from leaking out. I've never seen an embalmed brain...or touched one...it was so neat. Then I remembered it was Dennis and I got pissed off again. I had to suture the incision back together which took about an hour. We cleaned him off and repaired some other half ass sutures and in the end, he looked 100% better. I dressed him the next morning in his usual Harley Davidson attire and his family and closest friends came a little later to view him. They were so overwhelmed at how good he looked, as they were expecting much worse.
I have to admit, and I feel alittle guilty for enjoying this so much, but it's a real ego boost to have so many strangers come up to me after the funeral service and thank me for what I did. I was honored to help and I'm just grateful that everything worked out well. The family had a party after the service which I missed because I had to go back to work, but Buck called me and told me that everyone was asking about me. So when I finally showed up to have a couple beers with the family, I was so surprised at how many people knew who I was! I'll never forget how it felt to have a big biker guy strut over to me and say "Cara, I've heard so much about you. I just have to give you a hug!"
Sometimes it's not so easy to say this, but I love my job.
I knew it was bound to happen. Buck has animals stuffed and hanging all over his apartment. My favorite is a pheasant posed as if in-flight and mounted on its side directly above the television. He has pistols, rifles, and shotguns locked up in a huge gun safe in the garage. Yesterday we were just lounging around in his apartment after having lunch with my parents when his dad called. He talked for a bit and cut a sly glance over his shoulder at me, "No, Sir. We're not doing much, just kickin' back watching some TV. Sure, I'd like to go. Let me see what we have going on tonight and I'll give you a call back." Then he hung up and dumped himself onto the couch beside me with the most suspicious smirk on his face and asked me, "What are you doing?" Before I knew it we were getting ready to go to the Shooting Range: he was pulling shells out of his dresser drawers, dropping a leather shoulder protector thingy on the bed, and laying a rifle and a shotgun on the floor infront of the couch. I put on one of his Harley Davidson shirts because mine was sleeveless then he patiently started telling me all about the guns lying on the floor, letting me hold it and put it to my shoulder and look through the sight. I couldn't believe how heavy it was! My arm was sore and tired just after holding it up for a could minutes! The Range was out in Spring a little bit away so I had plenty of time to get all nervous and fidgety. I didn't mind telling him that I was terrified but that I wanted to try just so I could say I made an effort. We got to the Range and he drove around for a bit so I could get used to the noise and watch some of the men fire Trap and Skeet. We plan to make a trip to Medina, Texas for a Dove Hunt on Labor Day and he wants me to get the hang of it before the actual hunt. After meeting up with his Dad in the shop and buying some more shells and some ear protection for me we went out to the Range with his 247 (I think? It's 24-something) Winchester. It was friggin' loud out there! I was watching a guy close by with a similar rifle and saw how it threw his shoulder back each time he fired! I put the ear protectors on and I could hear my own heart racing. We went out after the cease fire was called and hung up our targets. Mine was the one on the left and his on the right so we could see how well we did afterward. I watched him shoot the first three shells then he let me sit down in the booth. At first he just let me hold the gun for a bit and let me watch him load the three shells. He showed me how to turn the safety off and how to hold the butt (?) really tight against my shoulder. I was so friggin' nervous! I was surprised I wasn't shaking. Everytime I had the bullseye lined up in the sight and I had my finger on the trigger I would wuss out and drop the gun. I knew I was going to either love it or hate it and I really wanted to love it because I knew Buck really enjoyed hunting. He was really patient, by the way! He stood right behind my right shoulder and told me to just keep trying, to hold the gun tight against my shoulder. Finally, I aimed again and pulled the trigger. Lo' and behold! It didn't hurt! It threw my shoulder back a bit but didn't hurt at all. It's funny how it doesn't seem as loud when it's your gun. I couldn't imagine trying to shoot, though, without the ear protection. Buck showed me how to empty the shell and reload and I fired the remaining two shots then reloaded another three and shot those without a problem. My shoulder was getting alittle sore so Buck let me wear the leather shoulder guard. We took turns shooting three at a time until cease fire was called and we got to go out and check the target. The first time I checked the target I had hit the bullseye once and all the other shots hit the circle right outside the bullseye. So if the Bullseye was 10 points, all the others were 9 points. Buck was so impressed. He didn't hit bullseye at all and only had a couple in the 9 point range. We fired some more and the next time I checked the target, I had four in Bullseye! I did have two out of the seventeen I fired that hit along the edge of the target, giving me no points. I had a great time! Towards the end some dark storms were beginning to roll in over the firing range. It looked so beautiful. While we were driving back Buck called his Dad and told him he would have to get rid of me if I was going to keep outshooting him. He asked if I would be able to shoot a Deer or a Dove and not be freaked out. I told him that if he was as patient with me as he was today that I would probably try anything once, but that I had no problems hunting deer. Let me just say, he was impressed. He held my hand the entire way home. I impressed him again later that day with my tree climbing skills when he took me to his job so he could start up his old blue Chevy truck that he's been working on. It was sitting back in the field behind the shop where he works. It wasn't raining as hard so I went over to a tree and proceeded to climb it while he tried to get his truck running. When he looked up I was half way up the tree, straddling a branch and giggling. He watched as I slowly made my way back down then gave me the keys to his Ford truck so he could follow me home in his Chevy. When we got home he showed me all of his other guns and explained why each was different and which one could be used for what. Then he made me the best Tunafish sandwich ever and fell asleep against me on the couch while I listened to the storm. It was the perfect end to a perfect day.
