RRN Online Volume 445

December 11 '04

Volume 445

Good Samaritans It Doesn't Always Pay

The teachings of Jesus define ones neighbor in the parable of the Good Samaritan as one who gave aid and comfort to an injured Jew in a day when Samaritans and Jews didn’t speak to each another, least of all help one another. Things turned out well in the parable, as the injured Jew was cared for by a benevolent enemy, and the Samaritan’s example was acknowledged by the greatest Jew who ever lived. Yet, in modern times, it doesn’t always pay off for someone trying to be a Good Samaritan. I experienced the truth of this as recently as last week, and I learned today (12/07) that my dentist can attest to the same.

Dr. Fred Murphree and his wife Vickey became interested in show dogs a few years ago. Now, they own a couple of dogs, one of which has gained some notoriety in the world of dog shows. While, I can normally get in to see my dentist whenever I need or just pop in to visit, I have occasionally stopped by his office only to find that he and Vickey were off at a dog show.

I had been to see a dermatologist whose office is next door to my dentist’s office and was on my way home when Barbara asked if I wanted to say hi to Dr. Murphree. There were no cars in the parking lot, which seemed unusual for a Tuesday morning, but neither of us thought much of it.

Inside, Vickey was behind the receptionist’s window. As we greeted one another, Vickey asked if we knew that Dr. Murphree had been hurt and was not able to work.

"What’s wrong? What happened?" we quizzed.

"We were at a show in Dallas last week and one of the dogs went crazy," Vickey said. "It was running around barking and biting everyone. Fred took off his coat and managed to get it wrapped around the dog. About that time the owner showed up, and she took the coat off the dog. That’s when it attacked Fred and just chewed up his hands. So, we spent the afternoon with a plastic surgeon."

Vickey went on to explain that, at the show, the mid-sized dog had been attacked once by two dogs and shortly later by a much larger, third dog and had become very agitated and angry. The injured dog had more than thirty puncture wounds and apparently, like a pain-crazed human, was taking his frustrations out on anyone nearby.

"Fred’s going to be all right," Vickey assured us, though it didn’t sound like he would be as she described injuries that included a severed artery and lacerations to muscles and tendons in both hands. "He should be back to work before Christmas."

"Sometimes it doesn’t pay to be a Good Samaritan," I suggested.

"That’s right," Vickey laughed. "I think he’s learned his lesson."

"Me too," I responded, holding up my bandaged fingers for her to see.

"What did you do? Vickey asked.

"I was doing a good deed, like Fred," I responded before sharing the highlights of what had transpired the previous week. "I was trying to help out my wife."

On a cool December morn, Barbara turned on her air conditioner at her office. It’s one that both heats and cools. From the smell of things, when it started heating, Barbara thought something had crawled inside the unit and died. When she came home at lunch she told me about it, and I asked if she had pulled out the window unit and checked it.

"We tried," Barbara stated, "but Brother Joe couldn’t get it out."

I had spent the day working out of my home office rather than my office in Indianola, and by late afternoon decided to offer my assistance. I grew up with window air conditioners, and having installed from scratch more than a couple and having never met one I couldn’t manhandle, I felt up for the challenge.

"I’ve been freezing all day," Barbara stated while pointing below her desk. "I’m using this little space heater to keep my feet warm."

The front panel of the air conditioner came off easily enough, but I could see a lot of rusty regions behind it. There was a pop-out handle on the lower left side that looked like it hadn’t been popped out in years.

"Darn thing’s rusted…should have brought my tool bag with me," I muttered to myself, as I proceeded to study the situation.

"What’s this padding?" I asked, removing something that looked like water stained paper towels.

"Brother Joe and I put that there last year to catch the condensation."

Okay, I made up that sentence, but I thought it sounded better than "Me and Brother Joe" and something about "stopping a drip."

Having removed and discarded the padding, I discovered some leverage for my fingers and after rocking the unit and tugging mightily, the unit slid forward enough for me to inspect and note the absence of any dead creatures.

"I don’t know what you smelled, dear," I declared, "but it’s not a dead critter. Maybe, it’s mildew or mold. If you still smell it, call Durwood; I’m sure he’ll be glad to pick it up and clean it, and since it’s for Habitat, he might not charge you."

As it turned out, I was done with the easy part. Sliding the window unit back in place was more difficult, plus cold air poured into the room because the unit was not fully recessed.

"It’s stuck," I explained, stating the obvious. "I’ll go outside and lift up underneath it."

I was fully confident I’d be done in a matter of seconds, but regardless how much I lifted and how much I strained, the unit would not move backwards, only forward.

"When I lift up, you push back," I called through the wall to Barbara, who complied immediately.

Still, the unit would not budge.

"Hold it. I’m coming back in," I barked

Back inside, I was more determined than ever to finish the job I had started. I placed my left hand in the upper left corner of the front of the unit and my right hand on the lower right corner with my fingers two-joints-deep under the front of the unit. Finally, some combination of pulling, pushing, lifting, rocking, and grunting, resulted in a bang as the unit hit the back of it’s metal housing. At the same time, my brain was telegraphed a pain message from the fingers on my right hand.

Loosely interpreted the message was, "This hurts, do something NOW!"

An instant later, I jerked my hand from beneath the unit and quickly observed I still had five fingers, but the nail on my index finger was split crosswise and blood was seeping out of the split part. The shock of smashing my fingers left them numb for several seconds, and I didn’t realize how badly I was hurt until I checked the palm side and saw blood pouring from the index and middle fingers. By the time Barbara handed me Kleenex and I found a place to sit down, I was hurting.

There was a flap of skin on my index finger that proved useful in covering my wound, but my middle finger wasn’t so lucky and the skin was completely gone, still in the air conditioner, I supposed, but I didn’t care to look for it.

"I think you need to let a doctor look at this," Barbara shared. "I don’t think a band aid will stop the bleeding."

"Pressure will stop it," I growled. "I don’t need to see a doctor."

Sure enough, once the band aids were in place the bleeding was staunched. It took a lot longer for the pain to subside. The wounds are not completely healed, and I’m still wearing band aids, but they’re more for padding than anything else. It appears the skin flap is dead and will eventually slough off, and apart from sensitivity to touch the open wound is doing nicely.

If I live long enough, I may learn to entrust minor repairs and fix-ups to those more professionally qualified, but until I do, I’ll continue to play the role of the Good Samaritan, even if it doesn’t always pay to do so.

Holiday Meditation God's Extravagance

Barbara found the poem below in a publication for Habitat for Humanity. Mark Lassman-Eul wrote it after reflecting on a question posed by a co-worker, Tom Hall.

One Advent season, Tom questioned why God sent a heavenly host to announce Jesus’ birth to the shepherds. To Tom, it seemed a bit extravagant, considering only one angel had appeared to Joseph and Mary prior to Jesus’ birth. Tom concluded that, "God often gives ordinary people like us, gifts that are beyond the necessary, that border on the extravagant." (Copyrighted poem used by permission.)

Extravagance

ã Mark Lassman-Eul

No duty’s poorer than a third shirt shepherd
Standing lonely and cold in a midnight field
Fighting sleep while counting sheep
Yet to such as these
Sent the God of All Peace
An extravagance of angels

No place is poorer than an unclean barn
Standing full of smells and stalls
Flies abound, dirty hay all around
Yet to such a place
Sent the God of All Grace
An extravagance of miracles

No man is poorer than a newborn child
With tight fists, unfocused eyes
Hunger comes again, he screams in pain
Yet kings crossed desert miles
To bring God’s Own Such Child
An extravagance of riches

No heart’s poorer than one closed to want
Proud and content, manner aloof
Standing idly by, while they hear others cry
Yet to the lesser with more
Sends the God of the Poor
An extravagance of chances

No world is poorer than one without hope
Spinning random and scared in a cold, dark space
Striving to keep, a purpose more deep
Yet to these like us
Sent the God of All Love
An extravagance of meaning

No duty’s poorer than a Third World shepherd
Standing still in a field, wondering how to survive
Ground hard on his back, cold stars blaze in the black
Still to such as these
The Risen Lamb That is Peace
Sends an extravagance of angels

Greetings From Iraq Dr. Kevin Koehler

Our first Christmas Card for the season was mailed from Iraq. Pontotoc physician, Dr. Kevin Koehler was deployed last January and a few weeks later found himself in Iraq. We at RRN are happy to share the greetings from our neighbor and strongly encourage others to continue praying for all our troops, especially those who serve in harm’s way.

November 22, 2004 – Camp Taji, Iraq

Greetings from Taji, Iraq! I hope you are enjoying the Holiday Season as it quickly approaches. It is hard for me to believe that the end of the year is upon us. I really look forward to the close of 2004. It means that I get to come home soon! Yeah!

The year of 2004 has been quite a ride! I left my family and friends in Pontotoc, Mississippi on January 26^th, 2004 on a journey that would eventually bring me to the Baghdad, Iraq area of operations. I stepped onto Kuwaiti soil March 1, 2004 and eventually crossed the burm into Iraq on March 16, 2004. Since then, I have experienced combat and war like I never imagined. The 39^th Brigade Combat Team, 1^st Cavalry Division has been actively engaged in fierce fighting to free the people of Iraq of the restraints and terror of a Saddam Hussein regime. It has been a long, difficult fight. Many American soldiers, coalition fighters, and innocent Iraqi citizens have suffered. Following this war I hope that the people of Iraq will someday experience and enjoy the many freedoms that Americans take for granted on a daily basis.

I am doing well! The Army takes good care of its combatants. I live in an air conditioned/ heated trailer with a shower. I have access to three cooked meals a day, a gym, post exchange, and laundry facilities. As you can see, the living conditions in this war zone are not that bad. It could be a whole lot worse!

The hard part of Operation Iraqi Freedom II is the actual fight and the physical, psychological, and social impact of the war on soldiers. My medical company has treated about 6000 soldiers. Many of them have been victims of trauma.

Our brigade has had 22 soldiers killed in action. Hundreds from our brigade have been wounded in action and forced home as a result of their debilitating injuries.

Our camp is the target of mortars and rockets on a regular basis and our convoys are often hit with improvised explosive devices. The war is real! I never imagined that I would be an active participant in anything like this.

The war has taught me a lot about myself and made me realize that I am blessed in so many ways. I think that Americans take so many of our daily freedoms for granted. We need to step back this Holiday Season and give thanks for EVERYTHING in our lives! In an instant our hopes and desires can be taken from us. I have seen this happen to 22 soldiers during the last year!

Morale is good at this point of the deployment … there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Knowing that we are in the last quarter of our deployment provides hope. We all look forward to the day that the airplane lifts away from the Iraqi airfields and heads west toward home. I look forward to returning home to Pontotoc, my family, my practice…I look forward to being a civilian again!

In closing, I wish you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! I ask that you remember all the soldiers who are spending time away from their loved ones to protect American freedoms all over the world. Be proud of your Armed Forces! The men and women serving all over the world are doing a fantastic job! I look forward to spending the Holidays at home next year!

Major Kevin Koehler
Company C, 39^th Support Battalion
39^th Brigade Combat Team
APO AE 09378

Bodock Beau Clean Christmas Tree

Jo Anne Bradley writes a column for The Pontotoc Progress, our hometown newspaper. Most of the time Jo Anne writes about the social life in our small town. This week’s article reported plenty of social events but also included the following true, humorous happening.

Jody Stringer had returned a borrowed trailer back to the owner in Fulton. He and Carrie came back through Tupelo, stopped and purchased a Christmas tree, which they tied on top of their Yukon.

They decided the white Yukon could use a wash job at the new car wash on Tupelo’s West Main. So they went through the wash. Jody got out, walked all around the vehicle and reflected on how clean it was and got back in and drove west on Main, stopping at another business.

Carrie got out and about freaked out as she viewed their freshly washed, clean smelling and very wet Christmas tree on top of the Yukon.

I guess the tree dripped some of the water off as they came on to Pontotoc. Yes, you can wash your Christmas tree if you feel like doing so!

From the Pontotoc Progress 12/08/04

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