Another Stroke of Bad Luck

Charley and Harley had to focus on the harvest now, and Harley had to get ready for school. The family had decided he was going to stay with Lena’s mother in Valley Junction and attend Roosevelt High School for his senior year. Charley could do the morning chores, since they didn’t have all the cattle and horses back yet. Harley would stay on the farm for the weekends and help his father; then he would go to church with them on Sunday, and back to Grandma Burt’s house on Sunday night.

Lena paused from her household chores to gaze out the kitchen window. She really liked the way Charley had put windows on the west wall and on the north wall of her new kitchen, as she had asked him to. She enjoyed being able to see him as he worked in the fields on the forty acres just north of our house. The old house had only one window on the west wall, and all she could see was the old outhouse. She delighted in watching her husband working his own land again and smiled to herself. They might not have much as far as money or possessions go, but they had each other and they had a fine son. She was so happy to have Charley back home. He had risked his life in those wheat fields and riding those rails, to save his family, to build them a home, and to preserve their land. He was a wonderful father, and a loving husband. Once in a while, her husband would put his foot down about some topic or other, by giving her that stern stare, but she had never known him to become cross or angry. Charley had never raised his voice to her, or his hand either, For Harley, he had been a firm but fair father. Lena had never served Charley a meal that he had not thanked her for. Even in the middle of this horrible economic mess, Lena felt satisfied and fulfilled with her family.

Her kitchen floor rattled under her feet a little as she moved towards the sink to finish the dishes, but she was still grateful. The license plates were better than dirt; they were pretty and colorful. Harley had gone to the dump and the car heap dealer to gather them all and clean them up. Lena was so grateful, and so proud of her son’s hard work and initiative.

Harley was going to graduate in May and Lena had tried to get him to talk about his plans. He kept hinting that if he was going to go to college like she expected, he would not be coming back to make his living as a farmer. He wanted to own his own business, be his own boss, and make a lot of money. Every now and then he would talk to Lena about being rich and generous, like he was going to come back driving a big fancy car and have a fat bank account. Harley promised he was going to pay off all their loans and build them a large Sears catalogue farmhouse. Lena would really like that. As long as Harley made his money in an honest job, she would be proud of anything he accomplished.

Lena glanced out the north window to spy on Charley again. She waited, thinking he would pass around the field again. She waited some more, and then got impatient. As she was walking down the stairs from the kitchen to the back door, she paused to take off her house slippers and put on the boots she used when she fed the chickens. Who knows, she might have to walk halfway down to the barn before she could catch sight of him. Lena went back to the kitchen and got a glass of lemonade out of the icebox. He might be thirsty, riding in that dusty field all afternoon. She didn’t mind if she had to walk clear across the forty to get it to him, because it was a beautiful fall day. Sunny, with a little breeze. Just sun and the quiet whirring of the windmill in the feed lot. Walking out the back door, it was only the windmill that she heard.

She realized there was no chugging tractor sound. No scraping and scooping sound of a combine. That was strange. Charley usually didn’t take breaks. He just worked and worked until the job was done, or until it got too dark to see where he was going. Lena started walking a little faster down the drive that curved towards the barn. Harley was working in the barn on the cattle pens, removing some of the older boards that needed replacing. Charley hoped to be able to get back to raising some cattle after the harvest came in.

“Harley, where’s your father? I came to bring him a lemonade, but I don’t hear or see the tractor anywhere.” Her tone was anxious; rising with a bit of concern.

“I’ll go check, Mother, I’ll go check. He may have had some trouble with the tractor over in the northeast corner. It’s a long walk back over here to get some tools. I’ll get the tool box and go check on him. He might just be taking a break,” Harley reassured her.

“Please just go. Forget the tool box…just get on out there. I want to know what’s going on. This just isn’t right. Harley,” Lena persisted.

So, Harley set out at a good-paced trot. His mother’s voice was too urgent for him to walk. Even with his long strides, walking would not be acceptable.

As he ran, his eyes scanned the horizontal plane of the bean field. There was not tractor in sight. He started to share his mother’s concern. It just didn’t seem normal. He kept running, but a bit faster now. Where was his father? He heard his mother yelling, “Do you see him? Do you see him?”

Then Harley saw him. The tractor was tipped sideways, run up against the fence, and it looked like Charley was pinned between the tractor and one of the fence posts. The machinery was all tangled up.

He turned back towards the barn. Hollering as loudly and plainly as possible, he shouted at his mother, “Go up to the house! Get the operator to call the sheriff! Dad needs help! The tractor’s on him.”

Lena ran as fast as she could in her “chicken boots.” The phone line was open so she didn’t have to kick anybody off the party line to get to the operator. Lena tried to stay calm so she could talk, but her heart was pounding with panic and her head was swirling with sheer terror. She knew Marlys, the phone operator, would get the sheriff as quickly as possible, so she started back out to the field. Before she ran out of the house, she grabbed a couple of clean dish towels, not knowing why, but wanting to be prepared. Then she dashed out the door.

Harley got to his father and realized he was stuck, but not tightly pinned, between the tractor and the post. He tried to wake Charley, as it appeared he was unconscious. “Dad, Dad, are you awake? Are you okay?”

Charley did not move. His eyes opened. He mumbled, but Harley could not understand what he said. His body looked very limp and Harley was relieved to see his father’s eyes open.

“Mother went to call the sheriff, Dad. Are you in pain? What happened?” There was no response, but his father’s eyes were still open. That’s when he noticed one eye was wide open, while the other one looked droopy. Harley was trying so hard to stay calm, but inside he was terrified that his father would not be okay. He didn’t know what to do. A helpless feeling began to engulf him. He looked around and saw his mother coming toward him, moving faster in her boots than he ever thought she could.

“He’s alive mom, he’s alive! Is the sheriff coming?” Harley wanted to run out and meet his mother, but he did not want to leave his father. “Hurry, he has his eyes open.”

Lena was there beside Charley in the next instant. She had to climb across one of the dirt-caked metal tractor wheels to get to him, tearing her house dress in the process.

“Charles! Charles! What happened?” she coaxed as she took his gloved hand. “I’m going to take off his work gloves, Harley. That will be okay, won’t it?”

“He’s going to need a doctor, Mother. Did you ask the sheriff to get Doc Templeton out here? Dad’s face looks funny. It doesn’t look like he’s in pain or that anything’s broken, but he just doesn’t look right.”

“I told Marlys to call the doctor, too. I am taking off your father’s gloves. One of his hands…well, his whole right arm...it is just floppy, like he is asleep; but he is awake. I don’t know what’s wrong,” she sighed and moaned at the same time. “Oh, dear Lord, please let my Charley live!” Charley tried to mumble something again, but she didn’t understand at all. “We are getting help, Sweetheart,” she said. “We are getting help.” She took the dish towel and gently wiped his face.

“Mother, here they come! Down the road, look!” Harley yelled, as he ran to the fence to wave them down. “Over here, over here,” he screamed as he waved his arms frantically.

The sheriff’s car ground to a noisy and dusty halt on the gravel road. A swirling cloud of dust gathered around it, as the doctor and the sheriff jumped out and ran down into the ditch to get to the fence.

“Is he pinned down?” the sheriff asked.

“Not so bad. He’s not pinched in there. I think he’s just twisted up under the tractor a little, just next to the fence. He isn’t bleeding anywhere I can tell,” Harley explained.

“Well, I had the operator call Jim and tell him to bring his tractor over here. Probably need to get Charley out from under there before we can do much,” the sheriff said, and then he turned to Doc Templeton. “Can you get over that fence and check him out, Doc? Move back, Lena, and let the doc get in there for a look-see.”

Lena said nothing but climbed back over to the other side of the huge wheel. She was beginning to get even more frightened because Charley just looked so different, and he couldn’t speak. If she stretched out her arm, she could still touch Charley’s back.

Harley and the sheriff started to look things over so they could figure out how to hook up Jim’s tractor when he got there. Charley’s tractor had basically just run sideways into the fence and then tipped over when the front wheel got jammed in the wire. They decided to have Jim put his chain around the back tire that was up in the air and pull the tractor back to an upright position, and that should free Charley without injuring him more.

They heard Jim’s tractor chugging across Charley’s field and turned to look; it was in high gear and the tractor was bouncing up and down like crazy. It looked like he was riding a bull at the rodeo. Jim swung out, made a big circle, and then backed it up to the up-ended tractor of Charley’s.

Lena’s focus was entirely on her husband. “Doc, what’s wrong with Charley? Can you tell what’s wrong? How could this happen?” Her questions came so rapidly, Doc did not even try to answer them in order.

“Appears to me like Charley’s had a stroke, Lena. It won’t kill him and luckily, having the tractor tip over didn’t kill him either. Probably had the stroke first and then he lost control of the tractor. It doesn’t look like he has any broken bones, but he’s definitely lost some feeling and some control on his right side. We are going to have to get him to the hospital.”

Lena had no more questions. She simply nodded.

“Let’s move out of the way now so they can get this tractor moved,” Doc Templeton said, as he gently guided Lena away from Charley’s side.

Jim and Harley cut through the fence so they could carry Charley across the ditch and lay him down in the back seat of the sheriff’s car. It took all four men to carry him. Charley was a tall, strong man before this, and it was quite a challenge to get him through the fence, down into the ditch, and then back up out of it again. They accomplished it as carefully as they could. Lena sat in the back with her husband’s head in her lap. She spoke softly to him all the way to town, except for when she cried for a few minutes. That seemed to upset him, although he still couldn’t speak with any plain words, so she only succumbed to her tears that once.

The ride to town was uneventful and at the hospital, the doctors told Lena there really wasn’t much they could do for him. As strokes went, it was what they called a “medium” one. Given time, Charley would probably recover his speech and some strength on his right side. For right now, however, he would have to be in a wheelchair. Bed rest was the best medicine they could offer. It would just take time.

The sheriff had to leave, but Jim drove into town in his car and stayed with Lena at the hospital; after all, Charley was his cousin. Harley went to the café down the block from the hospital and got them some sandwiches. Charley was going to have to have his food mashed for a while, until he got some control of his jaw muscles again. The doctor started explaining all the things that her husband would not be able to do, and the more he spoke, the more discouraged Lena became. Besides not being able to chew, Charley would not be able to walk, drive a car, or go to the bathroom by himself. He would need a lot of help to get dressed and undressed, a someone would have to bathe him. It might be weeks or even months before he could be able to sit up at the dining room table or in his favorite chair, but for right now, Charley was ordered to stay in bed and rest. Put a coffee can under the bed; that was the doctor’s advice. Then her husband could sit on the edge of the bed, with some help, and relieve himself. That would save her trying to get him to the outhouse. Lena was left speechless with this new reality.

That morning, she had a strong, healthy man at her side. This evening, she had an invalid who was going to need help doing the most simple tasks for himself. Lena’s thoughts raced but had nowhere to go. What would happen to their farm now? They had just started to rebuild. It seemed like all of the responsibility was going to be on her shoulders. And Harley’s.

Charley slept a long time in the emergency room bed. How was she going to get him home? Harley would have to come home to stay now; or maybe she could handle this by herself. Harley had to finish high school this year. She wanted him to stay in town with her mother. Roosevelt was the best school in Des Moines. Charley would want him to stay in town. Lena decided one thing after only a few minutes of thinking about this; Harley would stay in town, and Lena would find a way to take care of her husband by herself. Her son’s future would not be detoured by this despicable stroke. Lena’s mother would agree, and so would Charley; she was sure of that.

Harley didn’t like the idea. He was so loyal to his father. He tried to insist, tried to say that he was going to be the man of the house now.

“I don’t know where you heard foolishness like that, son, but your father is still the man of this house. You will need to go to college and get your own house to be head of; but your father is not dead, he’s just hurt, and he’s going to get better soon. You need to just go about your business, which is finishing your education. And, we are done talking about this matter. It is settled!” With that said, Lena gave her son a long stern look, like the ones he sometimes got from Charley, and Harley knew the discussion was finished.

Lena did everything the doctors said to do. Fortunately, their friends and neighbors got the rest of the harvest done, shipped, and sold. They would have enough money to get through the winter. After that, when spring came and the crops had to be planted, they would just have to see. Lena had never driven a tractor, but she was sure she could learn quickly. She would do whatever it took to keep the farm going until Charley was ready to farm again, because she was certain he would be farming again.

His left side was just fine. He was already doing an amazing job of recovering on the right side. It was slow like the hospital said it would be, but he was hoping he would soon be able to use the crutches the hospital gave him. She did not mind what Charley called his ‘pee can’, which he kept under his bed. He said he wanted to make it to the outhouse with his crutches, so Lena kept the path shoveled in the winter, but he never felt like he could make it.

Lena did all the chores during the week. It really wasn’t that hard. Without Harley to cook for, it took less time to prepare meals for just the two of them. First thing every morning, she fed the chickens, the cats, and the dog. Then she got breakfast for Charley, gave him a sponge bath, and helped him get dressed for the day. He had figured out a way to shave himself. Even though his right side was affected by the stroke, Charley was pretty good with his left side. He probably started out to be left-handed as a kid, but the teachers at school made him write right-handed. He got a lot of sharp raps on the knuckles of his left hand and learned to be right-handed. Now, he was back to being a lefty.

Charley was lucky to have Lena. She did not just take him home to slowly recover. She took an active role in his rehabilitation. Lena’s mother had been widowed for about ten years, but remarried. Lena’s step-father, Dr. Burt, was a physician in Valley Junction. He and her mother, Grandma Burt, were the ones who had taken Harley in so he could attend Roosevelt. Dr. Burt had been very generous with his advice and had even sought opinions about Charley’s condition from several doctor friends of his in Chicago and St. Louis. He learned there were some therapies that could help Charley recover more quickly. He paid for a nurse to come to the farm twice a week to work Charley’s right side. It was making a real difference. Lena at least had hope that he would be able to farm again someday.