Hook in the Eye part 2

   Each hour that drags by becomes more painful and discomforting.
  "When is this nightmare going to end?" I keep asking each person who comes to my bedside. No one has an answer.
In the waiting room we had some ding-a-ling intern doctor come in and ask me what alloy the hook was made of. He then instructed the nurse to find some dikes as he was going to clip the hook shank as it stuck out of my eye. The nurse could find nothing (thank God) and he went to cover the eye again. He pressed some metal plate on the hook and pressed down hard. I was writhing in pain telling him he was really hurting me. I am convinced he pushed the hook further into my eye and damaged some of the retina due to his goofiness. I demanded he leave me alone. Rene and our good friend Jim were about to jump up and take the doofus down. We could not believe what had just happened. We did report him to the superiors at the hospital. 
  Seven hours roll around. I am begging and pleading for someone to get me on the life flight plane and fly me to a hospital that can began the surgery to get the hook out of my eye. Poor Rene and Jim have to sit and listen to me whine.
   The night is crawling by. I am in torment and increasing pain. At one o'clock in the morning I am finally wheeled into the operating room, but must wait one more hour with the staff saying we might get the room if no other person comes in.
  I have been insisting for the past several hours that I want them to find another hospital with a surgeon and fly me there. I could have flown all the way to New York in this length of time. It seems the torture will never end. I know Rene is completely drained. She is such a trooper, guarding me like a wild animal against any more crazy interns who may want to practice stupidity on me.
  As I'm being wheeled in for surgery, Jim asks if he can take a picture of the hook in my eye. "Have at it," I tell him in my pain crazed state. He takes the only picture I have of the whole incident.
  I am in surgery for six and one half hours.
  Rene says when I "came to" in recovery I was trying to get off the bed and kept repeating that I needed to get the fish cleaned and boxed for the clients. At last she convinced my foggy mind that all was taken care of.
  Wayne and Mike took care of the fish for the clients, then cleaned and stored my boat for me. I am so thankful for such great friends.
  I was in the hospital for the next two days. The surgeons did a remarkable job removing the hook. Healing would require 6 weeks with stitches in and no infection.
  Rene and I flew back to Seattle at the end of the six weeks for reconstruction surgery. I opted for just local anesthetic and to listen to the whole procedure. I was not prepared for the seven hour ordeal it would become.
 I was fitted with a new lens in my eye, the oil, which held the retina in place while healing, was suctioned out, and a form of eye fluid was pumped in.
  Once again I returned home bruised and battered, but the eye was healing in remarkable ways. I was gaining very limited vision, but excited that I was even able to keep my own eye.
  It is now four years after that crazy day. My eye was doing great unit just this year. Now it seems the cornea is dying. I have just flown back to the Seattle surgeon and have been informed a cornea transplant is the only way to cure the blistering I am dealing with now.
  Sometimes in the heat of the battle with the painful popping blisters, I tell Rene I'm ready to get this eye taken out of my head. Just get it done and over with. Then I sit in the waiting room and read material on the great gains of the medical profession.
  The cornea transplant may last ten years at the most. I am hoping by then something will be discovered that will be able to restore all of my sight.
  Until then I will just keep on living life and trusting that everything happens for a reason. God knows my needs. If He sees fit He could heal my eye. If He chooses not to, I will still live trusting in Him,and continue on as best I can.
  I have had to fight the frustration of having no depth perception. I can not do little detailed projects that used to be so simple. I can hardly put fishing line through the eye of a hook, or string line through the eyes of the rod. Doing boat project that require me to lay on my left side and look around objects is no longer possible. I have had to lean on others more than ever in my life. All have jumped to help me and I'm so thankful for them.
  I have re-learned to shoot guns. Day after day, week after week I have had to put a gun to my shoulder and learn to look down the barrel with my right eye. It does not feel good. I am still very clumsy and dis-jointed, but am getting progressively better. As long as I've got time, I can make the shots. In a quick situation the gun still comes up on my left shoulder and I look down a blind barrel.
  In the fishing industry my situation has rippled fear through the guys. All are now wearing safety glasses while landing fish. Even the commercial guys are wearing glasses to ward off hooks.
  I was stopped in the parking lot just last summer by a fellow guide. He called me to his truck and showed me a nasty hook mark on his forehead.
  "I just want you to know, Earl," he said, "Because of you getting that hook in your eye... saved me today. I had my glasses on, because of you, and the hook bounced off my glasses and stuck in my forehead. I would be heading to Seattle in a life flight plane right now, but for you. I just wanted you to know."
  I thanked him, and am reminded that even through my ordeal there can be good come of it. We will never know how many other eyes will be saved because of my mishap.
  Life goes on. We live and breath. Never take for granted your eye sight. I am so thankful for two eyes. One is now gone, but I can still see very well with my good one.
  I will never be without glasses protecting my good eye now.
  To anyone reading this who fishes, hunts, mows lawns, uses weed eaters... wear eye protection. Harbor View Hospital is swarming with those who have put their eyes out with such devices.
  And... every day be thankful for the wonderful gift of vision!

Fish Hook In My Eye

  All the names have been changed to protect privacy. 
If you are a bit squeamish don't look at the photo at the end of the post. :-)

There are days in a person's life that leave scars both mentally and physically...forever. August 10th of 2010 is one that marked me forever.
  The clients boarded the boat at six o'clock sharp. They were excited, and so was I. They had been fishing with another guide until I could finish up the group I had been guiding, but now their final day was with me, the captain they had requested through the lodge. We were all excited. I had guided these guys before and we had had a great time together.
A father, his two sons, and a family friend. The dad and sons were firemen and police.
  We raced out to Cape Edgecumbe and dropped our fishing gear. We were trolling for Coho salmon, and the fishing was very good.
It was nearing ten in the morning and we had a good pile of salmon on board.
  "Let's get one more salmon and then we're off to fish for halibut," I told them, and they were all in agreement.
  "Fish on!Get the rod, Sam," I shouted, pulling the shift handle into neutral.
  Sam was onto the fish and it looked like a good coho salmon. For the past couple of days the guide they had been with had been yelling at them to, "get up the rail and not behind him" in case the hook came out of the fish. They teased each other as Sam reeled in the fish.
  I had the net ready and held it up in front of myself and the client to protect in case the hook came flying out, which is common while fishing silver (coho) salmon. The fish steadied on the surface and I dropped the net to net it. The client (who was directly behind me) pulled hard on the rod to get the fish closer. I watched as the silver went into a roll similar to an alligator in a death roll. I lunged to get the net under it.
  A smashing blow hit me in the face. It felt like a club. Instantly I dropped the net and jumped back.
  "It's in my eye! the hook is in my eye!" I shouted.
  Sam dropped the fishing pole and the heavy metal flasher dropped to the end of the leader and "set" the hook even deeper.
  "Owe,owe, owe!" I shouted,"You can't let the flasher dangle on my eye!"
  I grabbed the rail of the boat with one arm and the flasher with my other hand. I knew I was in big trouble.
  "Inside the boat under the driver's seat in the drawer is a pair of red handled snippers. Someone go get them and cut this leader," I instructed. The pain was overwhelming if I tried to open my good eye as both eyes move when I look.
  Firemen are also paramedics so I was in good hands. They cut the leader and then found the first aid kit and bandaged the eye with the hook protruding from it. They also bound my good eye to stabilize both eyes. I was now flying blind.
  I felt my way inside to the radio and felt the proper mic for our group of guides.
  "Hey guys," I said as calmly as I could over the air, "I'm in trouble. I have a hook in my eye and I'm going to need help."  I didn't have to identify myself as we all know each others voice over the air.
  Don, fishing a boat called the Mist, answered back. "I'm pulling my lines now. I'll be right there, Earl, hang in there."
  I know hearing a call like that over the radio is like a bomb dropping. We hear may-day calls quite often and it is like a hush hits the radio.
  "Hey Earl, I've got my gear on deck and was heading for halibut, I can get to you before Don," Scott's voice crackled over my radio. Scott and I are long time friends. We went to the same high school and ran together for years commercial fishing, as well as diving together for nearly ten years. There is no one I would rather have in an emergency than Scott.
  "Thanks Scott, I'll get the boat ready for travel," I replied back.
  I felt my way to the back of the boat and climbed over the stern to lift the kicker motor, then stumbled my way back inside and fired up the motors.
  I could hear the radio airwaves burning with the guys telling those who had not heard that I had a hook buried deep in my eye.
  "One of you will have to drive the boat and just follow close behind Scott," I told the guys. It was decided Bill, the policeman, would do the driving, and the dad, Joe, would be the radio person, relaying messages of my condition and making plans for when we reached the dock.
  It is an hour's run from the Cape to the dock.
  I felt the boat roll hard in a boat wake. Scott had arrived.
    "Bill, you need to use the thumb trim switch to make sure both motors are trimmed down and then just key start both of them," I instruct.
  Joe, is on the radio with Scott going over the plan of keeping our boat right in the wake of Scott's boat. There are some nasty rock piles we have to run through to get back to town.
  "Tell Scotty we're ready to go," I told Bill. He radios the information to Scott. I then stand by Bill giving him instructions of how to run the throttles and the trims on the outboards. I feel that the boat jump out of the water and the bow lift as Bill hammers the throttles and trims the outboards. It feels like the boat is leaning to one side, probably everyone is on one side of the boat, so I feel the side trims and level the boat out.
  The outboards are screaming as we race behind Scott. "What RPM are we showing on the tac?" I ask Bill.
  "Right at 4,800," he replies.
  "That is way to hard on my old engines," I reply. "We don't need to blow a motor up right now."
  "Joe, tell Scott to back off a few RPM's," I instruct to our man running the radio.
  I hear the chatter on the radio and feel Bill back off the throttles a bit. Much better.
  Scott is talking to Robert at the lodge on the radio. I have Joe tell Scott to remind Robert to have a van waiting at the dock to take the clients to the lodge. I hear the radio transmission and the conformation.
    The guys inform me we are now at St Lazaria Island. I can feel the difference as the water smooths out quite a bit. The boat has been pounding in the ocean swell and I can feel it on my eye.
  In about fifteen minutes the guys tell me we are nearing Vitskari Rocks. Cell phone range.
  I ask the guys to find my cell phone and give some numbers to Scott. I want him to call my wife, Rene. They find her work number and Scott calls. She is not there, nor is she at our house. I'm thinking she must be with our friend Patsy who is visiting us. "Find Patsy's number and give that to Scott.”
  I hear the number being spoken over the radio. Scott says he has arranged for Rene to meet us at the dock.
  I ask the guys to have Scott call Wayne. He is back from commercial fishing and I know will be a good steady person for Rene to be around.
  Scott says Wayne will also be at the dock. I ask the guys to clean the blood off me so Rene will not freak at seeing me all bloody. They do a great job.
 It seems to take a long time to get to the harbor. I listen as Scott tells Bill the plan for docking. I tell Bill that I'll walk him through it as well.
  I talk Bill through the steps of bringing the boat to the dock. I feel it bump and then the guys are leading me out. I can smell the harbor. I feel hands help me over the rail and to the waiting arms of Scott, Rene, and Wayne.
  All the clients on Scott's boat and my boat wish me well as Wayne and Rene lead me up the dock. Patsy is there as well as one of my commercial fishing friends, Mike.
  They walk me down the dock and up the ramp to the waiting car. I offer to drive but don't get many laughs. Everyone knows it is serious.
  We are at the Sitka hospital in a matter of minutes. I am in some emergency waiting room.
  They offer me some pain killers but I don't feel pain.
  I can hear the doctor come in. "This might hurt a bit as I unwrap your head," Dr. Hunter says. Rene insists they give me morphine. I can feel it course through my shoulders and neck. Dr.Hunter unwraps my eyes. I can see everyone with my good right eye. Hunter then tries to pry open my eye with the hook in it. He is telling a nurse the findings. The eye is deflated, the fluid is gone. The lens is punctured and the inner eye.
  He wraps me back up and informs Rene that this is way over his head. "You guys need a good eye surgeon" he gives us the choice of Juneau, Anchorage, or Seattle.
  We ask him which he would go to and he will not commit.  When Hunter leaves the room, we ask the nurses which place they would go. All quickly say Seattle. That is settled. We inform Dr. Hunter of our decision and he leaves the room again to arrange to have an eye surgeon waiting when we arrive. That would be nice.
  They arrange for life flight to come and pick me up. We have just purchased Guardian Life Flight insurance. What a great thing.
  The jet is in Ketchikan and will take about 20 minutes to get here.
  The nurse asks, "How's your pain?" "It is not hurting at all," I respond.
  Patsy will stay with our daughter, Brooke. They will take care of the dogs and anything needed from Alaska. I blindly hug them both as I'm lead out the hospital door.
  After what seems a very long time they load me on an ambulance and head for the Sitka Airport.
  I get to ride on my first Leer Jet. I never get to see it but I can hear it.
  The pilot of the jet leans close to me and informs myself and Rene that this will be a very noisy flight to Seattle. Because of the eye draining fluid the pilot is going to fly the jet "right on the deck", meaning right on the ocean. He tells us the sound of the jet engine will bounce off the waves making it a noisy flight.
  "Go for it," I say, not really caring much about sound right now.
  I can feel the hook in my eye all the time. As long as I do not try and move my right eye it does not feel too bad.
  On the two hour flight to Seattle someone is asking all the time my pain on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst. Zero to one I say each time. I learn that Rene is up front telling them to keep the morphine coming. She thinks I'm trying to be tough, but I really don't have much pain.
  I am trying to keep my mind active. I don't want to go into shock. I think about anything and everything. But in reality I am thinking about how I am going to have to adjust to being blind in one eye. Not just an eye, but my best power eye. I am a hunter and have shot guns, bows, slingshots... everything left handed using my best eye. It now has a huge hook buried deep inside, no eye fluid, and not much hope at this time of even saving the eye.
  We get to Seattle and are whisked away on a waiting ambulance. It takes about ten minutes to get to the Seattle hospital.
  We roll into Harbor View hospital and they wheel me into an emergency room waiting room.  
  Rene and I sit there for the next seven hours waiting for a surgeon to show up. A good friend, Jim, comes and sits with us. He is very calm and helps Rene so much. Even the hospital staff is going crazy at the lack of service. Nurses come by and start giving Rene their names and phone numbers. "When you sue this place we will be witnesses for you. We have never seen it take this long to get someone into surgery." The discomfort is almost more than I can stand.
  "Let me get back on the plane and fly somewhere else," I keep telling everyone. "I just want this hook out of my eye...Now!"

To be continued...


laying in hospital waiting for the doctor to show up