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| We recently received this dramatic letter from a reader named Patty Roberge of Spokane, WA. Her story, probably similar to many other wives of truck drivers, is terrifying, inspirational and shocking. Patty got the phone call that all wives dread. Here is “Bob’s Story” as told by Patty, his wife of 20 years (edited for space):
A few months ago my husband Bob Roberge was involved in a bad trucking accident that almost cost his life. Bob was driving just outside of Des Moines, Iowa, when he took a drink of his pop. As has happened to most of us, the drink went down the wrong way and he started to cough and choke. He could not catch his breath and therefore blacked out, ran off the road and hit an embankment at 65 mph. The very next thing that Bob remembers is the sound of the blades of the helicopter.
On Sunday, July 29, 2001, I got a phone call at home from a Chaplin at Iowa Methodist Medical Center in Des Moines. The woman informed me that my husband had been in an accident and had been taken in for x-rays. Two hours later I talked to the doctor. I was so worried. He told me that Bob had broken his ankle and had some facial fractures, but that he would be all right. I asked if I could talk to him and they said there were no phones in the rooms in the Critical Care Unit. That caused me to ask myself, “If he’s okay, then why is he in the Critical Care Unit?” I asked a nurse to go to his bed and tell him that I loved him and that I was on my way. I hung up the phone and
immediately booked the next flight out of Spokane to Des Moines.
I arrived in Des Moines the next day. I briefed the cab driver about my visit as he delivered me to the hospital. I found the Critical Care Unit on the third floor and rushed to my husband’s side. He awoke and realized that I was with him and the emotional release was
wonderful. I couldn’t touch him and kiss him enough, just to feel his warm body and know that he was alive.
Like a mother examining her new baby for imperfections, I searched his body. His face was very swollen, with two black eyes, and he was on oxygen. There was a cast on his right leg. Later that day, they moved him into a private room. The nurse was kind enough to provide a cot for me to stay with him.
Tuesday morning brought several doctors to Bob’s room for routine checks on their patient. I spoke to each, asking them if Bob was stable enough to move. My intention was to get him home. The doctors were very reluctant to release Bob, but they said if I would take him to a hospital as soon as I got to Spokane that they would deem him stable enough to fly home. I called the airlines for reservations and then the towing company that removed Bob’s burned semi from the scene. I wanted to stop and see the accident site and the truck (and take pictures) before
departing Des Moines.
As we pulled into the towing yard, the cab driver commented on seeing the details of the wreck on the evening news. We could not believe what was before our eyes. When we were told that there was nothing left but the frame, that was a correct statement. The truck was a pile of metal frames - the frames of each seat, the mattress springs, the front axle and the rear ends. The trailer was basically burned away as well.
The flight home was very painful for Bob. When we arrived in Spokane, our children, five of them, were waiting to greet us. We were the last to depart the plane. As he was being transferred into a wheelchair, I looked up the angled walkway into the terminal and saw five faces in tears. One of the attendants signaled for them to come down the walkway, and that’s all they needed to move very quickly toward their Dad. It was a series of hugs and lots of tears. One by one they embraced their father and told him they loved him. The
kids could not believe the condition of their father. His face was still very swelled and red from the fire.
Lots of things happened within the first week Bob was home. He had his first surgery on his foot, with many more to probably come. Oral surgery was also another procedure expected in the future. Only six teeth remained in Bob’s mouth. But, happy to be home, he was definitely on the road to recovery.
I called the Iowa State Patrol to gain some knowledge about the witnesses. I was provided the information and hung up the phone. I was very nervous to call the name on my piece of paper. Would this person talk to me? Would he be mad at me? Would he not want to relive this terrible ordeal? What new insights could he give me?
The phone rang... hello... Ron Pettit of Solon, Iowa, was on the other end. After greetings and introductions, the accident was relived again with all the details that I had wanted to know. Ron, his wife, their 21-year old son Bryan and his girlfriend, were traveling home from a baseball game Bryan had played in. As they approached Bob’s truck and started to pass on the left, they looked up into the cab and saw Bob’s body bouncing to the imperfections of the roadway. It just didn’t look right. The large semi started to move to the right shoulder, as if a temporary stop was needed. The semi neither slowed nor remained on the shoulder. It continued at its traveling speed off the road and down the embankment, then smashed directly into an inclined grassy hillside. The impact pushed the steering column and dash into Bob’s chest. His feet and legs were twisted, badly mangled and crammed in the space that was left.
Ron slammed on his brakes and pulled over. He and his son ran to the semi and saw a helpless man behind the wheel, alive and conscious. Bob was pounding on the windshield and yelling, “Help me, please help me!” They tried to open the driver’s door but it would not budge. As they ran toward the passenger door, it popped open and out tumbled the limp body of Leslie, Bob’s student driver that was also
inside. Smoke and flames were now moving into the cab. Ron and Bryan had to act quickly. With great difficulty, they drug Bob’s limp body over the shifter and the passenger seat. Flames swept into the cab and surrounded his legs. As he was clumsily lowered to the ground, the damage to his feet and legs was very obvious.
Many witnesses watched the life saving efforts of Ron and Bryan, but not one of them came forward to aid in their attempts to save the lives of these strangers trapped in a burning inferno. One of those strangers was not only my husband but also a father, a son, a brother, a son-in-law, a brother-in-law, and my best friend. Ron shouted in
anger at the onlookers. He could not believe the blanket of apathy that lay so heavy on the crowd.
The two heroes drug Bob and Leslie up the grassy mound to safety. Ron and Bryan continued their vigilance until Leslie was placed into an ambulance and Bob was loaded and carried away in a helicopter, both on their way to
Iowa Methodist Medical Center.
I closed my eyes and listened to every detail Ron described. I saw the whole accident, frame by frame. I saw the flames, the limp bodies and the
apathetic crowd. I told Ron that he and his son were my heroes. I thanked him over and over again. Their actions saved the lives of two people.
Bob has been involved in trucking most of his life. For the past several years he has been an instructor and a trainer for a large trucking company. His students love him. Many of them keep in touch after their training is over.
Then, another important call came to Bob within days of the accident. It was from the company he had been driving for. But there was no, “How are you feeling,” or, “Hope you get better soon,” it was a termination notice. The phone call was confirmed a few days later from the owner of the company, in writing, that Bob was terminated.
