The Auger

by Thomas N. Told, DO, FACOOG dist, Dean of RVUCOM

Content warning: The following article contains descriptions of amputation (explicit), blood (gore, minor), and death/ dying.

I have come to understand through the years that there are events in the lives of all of us which occupy unique pockets in our memory. Interestingly, the details of those experiences can be recalled just as freshly and vividly as the moment in which they were experienced, even decades later. Usually, these types of experiences are linked to an outpouring of extreme emotional exertion coupled with other strong modifiers such as fear, pain, extreme physical effort, life-threatening situations, or profound joy and happiness. Simplistically, I have reasoned it as the body’s way of allowing us to continue to review some of the unresolved high points and low points in those experiences so as to reach some resolution or closure before that event can be filed comfortably away in the deeper parts of our minds.

Though it has been many years, there is one event in my life as a physician that continues to stand apart from all the others in that way. It was an event that deeply touched our entire Moffat County Emergency Medical Services system, and was of such a traumatic nature – followed by an equally tragic outcome – that any mention of “the auger” would bring a shiver to one’s core and the instant recollection of that experience for years to come. Here, for the first time, are my reflections on that night that tested an entire emergency medical response team’s skill and resolve to never give up.

After a busy day in the clinic, I reported to my 72-hour weekend shift at the emergency room a bit behind schedule. Unfortunately for me, this meant I would have to skip supper with my family, but I was confident that I could catch up with them and give them a big hug at a slower time during that weekend.

I had just changed into my scrubs when an urgent call came in from the Colorado State Patrol Dispatch. In a somewhat excited and almost breathless tone, the dispatcher said a doctor needed to go to the sawmill to remove a man’s foot that was caught in an auger. She didn’t know more than that but said she would relay more details as they came in. In an effort to speed up that process, the Sheriff’s Department was dispatching a deputy to pick me up at the hospital and immediately rush me and any necessary equipment to the scene.

I thought it was a strange request, for they were not the kind to panic like that. This also didn’t make much sense, because we had just purchased thousands of dollars of specialized equipment to remove cars from around people. I could not understand why they needed me at the scene to remove a man’s foot from an auger when, with that new equipment, it would be a simple task to cut mechanisms on both sides of the victim and remove the trapped appendage. However, the responders at the scene remained steadfast in their request to have a doctor come in, in spite of my probing questions to the contrary. I also sensed an urgency in the tone of this communication that I had never experienced before. There was something clearly wrong and the lack of detail around the incident worried me. I assured them I was on my way...

Read the rest of "The Auger" at http://fightinprairiedogblog.com/the-auger/