Wednesday, July 9, 2014

A close call...

Wednesday, July 9, 2014
I arrived at the Stow house determined to get the forms for the cement steps we needed to pour ready for Jason’s arrival.  I grabbed a spade and began digging out the area the forms would occupy then began measuring and determining their exact location.  We were dealing with a sloping sidewalk that was leading to the front door and creating a step up to the porch on the front of the house.  The old step had cracked and broken away from the porch because the land under was settling.  I wanted to re-pour the last pad leading to the step and correcting for the unlevel ground by building up one side of the pad.  I used a four-foot level and determined how much I’d have to raise the pad to accomplish this.

We had a table-top saw in the garage which we were using for the few cuts we needed to make.  I took the measurements I needed, drew the lines on the plywood I was cutting for the cement forms and we about cutting the wood.  The saw sat on an old credenza in the garage and was unstable at best.  I was without my eye protection since Jack had borrowed it two day earlier and left it God knows where.  Two simple cuts…no big deal.

I started the saw and began feeding the wood through for the crosscut as Jason was backing in the drive.  I could hear him exiting the truck and walking up to the garage, but was focused on the wood I was cutting.  I noticed that I was not staying on the line I’d struck on the wood even though I was pushing it through with a right-angle guide.  Suddenly, the wood bound on the blade, split and kicked into the air striking me hard in the ribs.  I turned off the saw quickly and backed away as Jason ran up to see what had happened. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, reaching to pull something protruding from my forehead above my left eyebrow.  It was a splintered piece of wood about an inch long and an inch from my eye.

I took a deep breath, which hurt, and said, “it hurts like hell.”  I lifted my shirt and watched Jason’s eyes widen.

“You took a pretty good shot,” he said, observing the red laceration, six inches long below my left pec muscle.

“Good thing I’ve got a core of steel,” I kidded fully aware of how lucky I’d been.

How stupid of me.  Powering up a saw with no one around and without safety goggles.  I was very lucky and hopefully learned a valuable lesson.  Time will tell.

We mixed and poured three eighty-pound bags of cement into the forms I’d built over the next hour.  I was having troubles mixing as the pulling and pushing of the heavy cement bothered my bruised ribs.  Once this was accomplished, I moved inside and continued touch-up painting, sanding and door hanging.  We finished up by loading wall debris into the truck and hauling two 100-pound plus hunks of concrete into the woods behind the house.

I drove home thinking of stopping for a Survival Workout, but instead decided I should wait to see how the injury played out.  No sense in making a bad situation worse.  I’d eaten two pieces of pizza Jason had brought to the house and so didn’t want anything when I got home until Savannah mentioned sitting down to watch something with a bowl of ice cream.

“Sounds like a good dinner option,” I said and joined her.

Tomorrow should be more of the same.  I need to cut a lawn for Joan, a new contract I’ve taken on, cut my own grass and do more work at the house.  We’re very close to being done and I’ve a lot of catching up to do before I can again get regular with my workouts.  I hope I’m not too far gone when that day comes.

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