“Caught in the Baler!” Ensign, Sept. 1997, 62–63
Caught in the Baler!
The warm, southwest winds were blowing as the sun set in the western sky, signaling the close of another beautiful day. It was late July at my ranch near Hysham, Montana. I had been working since early morning baling barley straw, and I was nearly finished. I decided to continue working into the evening hours, even though it was getting dark, because I had promised my two sons I would take them fishing the next day.
As night drew on, the air cooled rapidly, causing dew to form on the straw. With the increase in moisture, the straw became tougher and tougher, and the baler worked harder and harder. Before long, the machinery stalled. It was plugged tight.
I climbed down from the tractor to remove the blockage. I should have shut down the power before trying to remove the clog, but I was in a hurry and thought that this once it would be OK to let the engine run. However, as I reached into the machinery, my hand was caught tight, and I could not remove it even though I exerted all my effort to do so. Impulsively, I reached in with my other hand to pry loose the first, and suddenly both hands were caught firmly in the powerful machinery.
My situation was critical. The baler continued to pull me in until I was held firmly at a point above my elbows with my head jammed sideways at an excruciating angle against a metal bar. I yelled and screamed for help until I had nearly lost my voice, but no one heard me. The blackness of night and the continued pounding of the machinery enveloped me, and I began to realize how alone I was in a desperate situation.
I began praying, but no help came. Had my prayers not been heard? My whole life passed before me, and I wondered if it were my time to go. I prayed that if I were to be taken I could just go quickly. Hours passed, however, and I fervently continued to plead for help. I began asking that my wife, Sandy, come looking for me.
Sandy, meanwhile, had put our children to bed, then taken out a book to read while she waited up for me. She fell asleep, then awoke suddenly at 2:30 A.M., alarmed at my absence. Sensing something was wrong, she dropped to her knees and began praying. As she prayed, a feeling of great calm enveloped her. She rose from her knees and quickly left to look for me.
Hearing the tractor, she ran to the field where I was and began calling my name. As she came closer, she saw I had been pulled into the baler and let out a scream, fearing I was dead. In my now-hoarse voice, I asked her to please shut down the tractor and call an ambulance.
Soon firemen, police, paramedics, and personnel from the baler equipment company arrived at the scene. After nearly three hours of effort to disassemble the baler, they finally pulled me free. With the pressure off my limbs, my body immediately went into deep shock. A medical helicopter had been called, and everyone moved their vehicles with the headlights on to form a large circle so the helicopter pilot could spot us in the still-dark countryside. Drifting in and out of consciousness, I was flown 70 miles to a hospital in Billings.
Once there, I was immediately taken into surgery, where doctors worked on my arms and hands for hours. After surgery, I received a priesthood blessing that was of great comfort to me and my family and helped sustain us during the coming months of recovery. I had been told that I might lose an arm or hand, or experience nerve loss as a result of the injury. But the doctors were amazed at my rapid recovery in nerve growth.
During the three months I remained in Billings, Church members offered us much help, including a place for the family to stay. At home, members of our branch rallied. Neighbors brought in the last of our barley straw and grain and helped with the cattle. A Scout troop cut and split enough firewood to supply us for the winter.
I was required to undergo many kinds of treatments during this period, many of which were extremely painful. I shed many tears in moments of pain and often wondered if I had the strength to overcome this trial. Some days I suffered deeply from depression and anger at myself for doing what I had done. I found myself questioning many things about life, and I worried that I would have to give up ranching. It was a difficult challenge for all of us. In time, however, I slowly began to improve.
Even though I no longer have full use of either hand, today I am able to do many things at the ranch that I thought I could never do again. I am able to feed the cattle, drive a car, ride a horse, and work on machinery, although it takes much longer to fix things.
I am so grateful for the power of the priesthood and the support of my good wife and friends. This experience has brought me closer to my Heavenly Father. I know that through faith, prayer, and sheer determination I did receive the strength to overcome.
Illustrated by Robert Anderson McKay