Have you read Holly’s column on page 10? Maybe you should read it first.
All summer long, I’ve had this strange feeling that something weird was going on with my wife.
“We have to get this done TODAY!” she’d say.
“Well, okay.”
“No, I really mean today!”
I have always had a low sense of urgency (SOU). In fact, I would say that my SOU score is likely a two on a scale of 10. Holly’s SOU is a lot higher than mine. Thankfully, I usually think of her as only a six. But this summer, that was a whole different score.
We have a running joke about what a lousy emergency responder I would be. It is all true. When anything happens, emergency or not, I have to pause to absorb what is going on before I can take action—even in a normal conversation. How annoying this must be for everyone else! Every once in a while, we run into someone just like me, and I will comment to Holly, “Is that guy annoying or what?”
Her usual response, with a smile, is simply, “Pot, kettle.”
In my defense, I have experienced situations where I believe a low SOU was beneficial, if not lifesaving. The easiest way to get into trouble in the Canadian backcountry is during river crossings. The rivers can be very cloudy, making it easy to lose your balance, and they are extremely cold, having just melted from a glacier. To make matters worse, help is a long, long way off. You are pretty much on your own.
There were five of us. The plan was to cross where there was a sandbar in the middle, thereby splitting the problem into two smaller crossings. The first crossing went well. Our lead man was already on the far bank of the second crossing. Because we always crossed one at a time, the next man up stepped forward. Suddenly, he tripped on his own poncho and literally pulled himself headfirst into the fast, hip-deep, freezing water.
The current rolled him downstream like a human log. My low SOU allowed me to take a few seconds to analyze the situation. First and foremost, we didn’t want two men needing rescue. Secondly, dropping our heavy packs and running down the long, flat sandbar would give us the chance for a rescue without actually going into the water. I took control and began yelling, “Don’t go in! Don’t go in! Follow him downstream!” As we were running out of sandbar, the current rolled him toward the far bank, where our lead man successfully grabbed his poncho.
Fortunately, our human log was conscious and able to crawl onshore, but he clearly needed to be treated for hypothermia. Again, my low SOU allowed me to realize that while hypothermia is serious, we had to focus on the rest of us still stuck on the sandbar. Since our lead man could begin caring for the victim, our priority on the sandbar had to be settling down and focusing on our own crossing so we didn’t create yet another rescue.
Hopefully, I am never in a situation where if you blink, you’re too late. But if I am, I hope Holly is with me.
