I've spent the last three weeks pretty much in the bush and isolated with only one friend to talk to. My friend Larry is moving out to Texas and needed his building wired. If anybody was present at any one of the many times I've moved over the last 15 years; he's the guy with the big grey bushy beard and is about the nicest guy on the planet. On July 5th, after about a week in the bush, he was saying he had some stomach pain and wanted to rest. No problem. About two hours later, I was driving that old horse of a diesel about 80 through town and across country road, horn screaming, hazards on, all 40 miles to the hospital. I was hoping to attract a cop on the way, but nobody was around, so I just kept going.
I got him into the ER and the nurses took him right back, gave me a tone of paperwork to fill out and said that they'd bring me back as soon as they could. Within an hour, he was scheduled for an emergency appendectomy. At 67 years old? WTF? That happens when you're young generally... Ok, so off into surgery hue goes with the staff under the guise that I'm his son so that I make his medical decisions instead of his brothers. Thanke the universe that Larry is just who he is; tough to kill. He made a full recovery and we finished the job; just a few days late. It didn't hit me until the doctor confirmed what Larry said about getting him here when we did. I've repaid allot of favours over the years, but I never thought I would hear the words "You saved my life; thank you". I couldn't say anything, so I just gave that old fart a hug.
Since I've been home, I have just been in the forrest and haven't been in town until today when a home repair required a trip to the shop. The small town felt huge. After getting what I needed I realized that I wanted to be back in the forrest again. Too much noise. I decided to go out near Seelee Creek and go hiking to clear my head. I ended up tracking a deer for about a half mile. I did a lot of that in Texas when we had spare time. Having the wind in my face was in my favor and I was within easy sight. Part of me wished I'd only had a hunting tag and my old .375 Ruger; Bambi would be dinner. The other part wouldn't let me pull the trigger if I did have the gun. So, I've come to the realization that even though I haven't been a hunter in a long time, unless you count fishing, but I did more than my fair share and missed it; until today. I just sat there watching that old buck just hanging out in the early morning sun. Supposedly every hunter gets to the point where they've had enough of the kill, and I think that I may have as well. I just didn't realize it till years later.
So, there it is; life and death. I think I'm going to go out to town now. As much as I have loved the solitude, I need to relearn how to be around people again.