CHAPTER FOUR - FROM THE SOON TO RELEASE "Upside Down in the Yukon River"

 

 

CHAPTER 4

The surroundings were unfamiliar. I vaguely remembered, although unsure if in a dream or reality, being brought to this place. Exhaustion still clutching me tightly, eyes not yet open, I did my best to try and recall the events that brought me here. The attempts to piece events together were frustrating, like a dream after waking in the morning, some pieces clear, others just beyond the mind’s reach.

I recalled a bit of a ruckus, being wheeled into a large, drab M.A.S.H.-like tent. Again, unsure if my memories were accurate, it seemed almost out-of-body to my recollection—more like watching it happen, than actually experiencing it. There had been a real urgency to what I could only guess was a nurse or some emergency medical person’s voice. She instructed that I be removed from the emergency suit, stripped of all my clothes and warmed up. Now! The details and words, I could not recall exactly, as if I was just out of earshot in a movie in which I was the main character. The urgency was clear. It was surreal, lying there, attempting to piece events together, half conscious, still unsure if any of my recollections were based in reality.

There was a tinge of uncomfortableness or embarrassment as I was taken out of the bulky orange emergency suit and stripped out of my still damp clothing. Yes, the big orange emergency suit. I remembered. They had called for a rescue boat. Apparently the volunteer had seen I was not well as I sat next to the small fire on the shoreline, contemplating my ability to continue. He may have saved my life. Shortly after getting on the rescue boat, I’d been instructed to put on the emergency suit. I had seen these things on television: crab fishermen who’d fallen overboard placed in them in attempt to stave off hypothermia. We were miles from the next checkpoint and the rescue boat captain got me into the suit immediately, offering up some hot coffee as we launched.  Terribly disappointed to have DNF’d (“Did Not Finish”), the orange suit seemed a small badge of honor, almost cool. I thought, well, you at least went down swinging. No one would question my reasons for quitting, my toughness, once we arrived. My ego was doing its best to find some solace in failure. The mental conversations and search for justifications would not last long. I lost consciousness some time shortly thereafter.

The lone white light bulb hanging from the ceiling cast just enough light to allow those within the tent to do their work. Its glow, like the other details, random. Why are they taking all my clothes off? What is going on? What has happened to me? Am I dreaming? I have had those dreams, at times so vivid, certain they were reality. A warm drink, chicken soup or some similar broth, was put to my lips.

“Drink this,” a voice from somewhere said, holding my head up. “We need to get his body temperature up quickly. He is in trouble,” 

I was growing a bit more certain that I was indeed alive. At times it had been murky, like that space in books or movies when a character watches their life pass before them. Maybe I had been in the in-between place, one foot with the living and the other not. The weight of the wool blankets made it difficult to move. A large stocking cap of some sort covered my head. Gaining a grasp of my surroundings, I realized had anyone entered the tent, I doubt I’d have even been noticed, entombed in what nearly became my sheep-skinned casket. 

The wool cocoon, the ice-pick-in-the-forehead type headache, the tent walls, the faint voices coming from outside confirmed this was indeed a real place. My eyes opened for the first time. Still very groggy, I had no idea where “here” even was. Was it day or night? What day or night? 

Many questions needed answers.

Where the hell are my clothes?!? That seemed as logical a place as any to start.

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