There is no way to adequately portray what we endured that
fateful day on Mount Yonah. The trauma was too great. Your imagination will not
allow you to reach the depth of emotional suffering that we endured that day.
It was surreal. I remember thinking the whole time, “This is not happening! I
will wake up. This cannot be real!” The nightmare was far worse than any drama
I had ever seen on the big screen. I just knew that God could not possibly
allow something so horrific to inflict our family. And yet, it did.
I will never get the look in Woody’s eyes out of my head, as
he slid belly first down the granite face of the mountain right past me. I felt
so helpless. There was nothing I could do except scream. “No! No! No! Woody!
Please, Lord, no!” His hands and legs were outstretched as he tried desperately
to find a hand or foot hold. His eyes were full of fear, yet his voice was
silent, and then he disappeared over the ledge. Haden, our youngest son, was at
a higher vantage point and watched as his dad tumbled head over heels
approximately 100 feet until hitting his head against a stump which stopped his
fall. I heard Haden’s cries, but they sounded as if they were travelling
through a tunnel. He immediately started running down the mountain to reach his
dad. Hunter and Haley, who rejoined us once they heard the screaming, started
down the mountain, too. Hunter kept shouting, “Someone call 911!” I couldn’t
move. I looked over the edge and saw Woody’s body in a crumpled heap and was
stricken motionless. I sat down. I wanted to cry but was completely numb. My
mind reeled. “Where is the trail? How do
I get down the mountain? I don’t know what to do.” I could not even call 911.
My mind could not communicate with my fingers.
Haden had reached Woody by time I started to come out of the
fog. “He’s unconscious but he’s still breathing. It sounds like he’s snoring!”
I yelled down not to move him in case of spinal cord injury. My brain started
to compute the information. I immediately thought that either Woody’s trachea
had been crushed or was blocked. I stood up and slowly, recognition came back
to me. By time I made my way to Woody’s side, all three of the kids were there
along with two women hikers who had been in the area. Allison was one of them.
She stayed during the duration of the ordeal. After Hunter and I quarreled, he
agreed to make his way down to the trail head to meet the EMT’s. He had wanted
me to go, but I explained to him I was not going to leave my husband under any
circumstances. Emotions were raw. We were frightened and Hunter was trying to
control a situation he had no control over.
Allison, Haley, Haden, another woman and I stayed and tried to hold Woody.
He was still on a steep incline with about 60 more feet to fall. By this point,
he had become combative as he regained consciousness and was attempting to
escape the pain. His visible injuries were severe, especially his head. His
eyes were swollen shut, he was bleeding from his nose and mouth, and blood was
gushing from the back of his head. He was attempting to stand up although he
was not cognitive of his surroundings. We kept shouting at him, hoping he would
hear us—hoping he would understand; but there was no recognition. I noticed
that Haley was downhill of him, putting the weight of her body on him trying to
keep him still. I made her trade me places, immediately recognizing the danger
she was in. I held onto Woody’s hand. I prayed. “Woody, I love you! Please stop
moving! We will all fall down the mountain with you!” It was intense. We were
all in jeopardy of falling every time he sat up and groaned loudly. He was
strong and he was fighting—fighting the intense pain, fighting for his
life. I looked down and noticed the
steady flow of blood. We were all covered in a mixture of blood and dirt. I
tried to discover the source. At that point, Woody lifted his head in such a
way that I finally caught a glimpse of the back of his head. His scalp was
completely removed from his skull. Allison asked, “Does anyone have an extra
shirt?” No. Haden took off his shirt and handed it to me. I feebly tried to
piece his scalp back together and then applied pressure with the shirt to the
back of his head.
I’m not sure how long this went on. We heard the sirens long
before anyone ever arrived. “When will they get here?” Haley repeatedly cried.
Haden wept as he tried in vain to keep Woody’s head from bashing against the
granite slab as he continued to wrestle. And we all struggled to keep him from
taking us down the mountain with him.
I could go on, but I won’t. When I think about how harrowing
that day truly was, I am grateful because I know that God has protected us from
the full force of the blow. If he did not, we would be crushed. There is no way
to survive that sort of trauma without His protective shield. We are truly
loved. However, when you are wondering why I’m not over this yet; or why I
struggle to sleep; or why I do not want to be alone, reread this. Try to live
that nightmare with us and ask yourself, how quickly would you “get over” it?
