During my residency in Denver (approximately 1975), before Carl was born, Ellen and I took a weekend raft trip: starting in northern Colorado and going for a two-day weekend adventure. We drove a couple of hours and stayed in front of a small fire next to the river while we waited for everyone to arrive. Before we took off on the rafts, someone came rushing into our camp and informed us that, about a mile away, there was a head-on collision between a motorcyclist and a truck.
I quickly raced to the scene, as did four nurses. The motorcyclist was badly injured: he was lying on his back, but conscious. We emphasized the he should not move, because he had several fractures as well as likely internal injuries. The nurses performed much of the medical interaction, while I dealt with the partner of the injured person (who wanted to attack the truck driver).
It was difficult to get help. The local ambulance finally arrived, and the driver knew that the local hospital could not help. It took several minutes for the ambulance driver even to find some bandages, etc.
We decided to call Denver, which took a while since we were among mountains, and cell-phone coverage was poor. We finally got through, and it took an hour or two before a medical helicopter found us at the mountainside. The injured man was placed onto the helicopter, and we gave the copter drivers our names and telephone numbers. The helicopter took off, and we drove back to the starting camp.
By then, most of the group had taken off down the busy river, but they left behind one large floating water tube. It was not quite big enough. We floated rapidly with big bounces, and two of the individuals flew off the tube and floated for about a mile before we could pick them up.
About two or three months after returning to Denver, we were invited to a dinner at a local motel. Ellen knew why, but wisely did not tell me. Our automobile was getting fixed, so we borrowed a car owned by our neighbors. I met the four nurses and their partners at the motel, we were treated to a drink, and then brought into a large room. There were many Denver police individuals present. It turned out that the injured individual was a policeman, as was his partner, and the agency thanked us for helping him. He had a history of 13 broken bones plus injury to his liver and kidney. He was still in a wheel chair.
A letter of thanks was written by the Chief of Police. I kept it in my wallet; the plan was to show it to any policeman who might stop me for bad driving.
