A few people, hearing me cough, and wondering if I have some contagious condition get told exactly why I cough like I do ---- I give you here the reason (From Let Sleeping Lions Lie......) Chapter 24 It was about three thirty in the afternoon and the safari park was in full swing with cars weaving their way through the animal enclosures like one long multi-coloured snake. As was the custom, we had all com-pleted our clean-up chores from the previous day, had breakfast and taken up our assignments before the ten oclock opening. I had been assigned to the outer leisure area. I stared out of the little cabin that was positioned alongside the boating lake. My job for the day was to observe the three attractions at the northern end of the picnic and leisure area of the Park. I had a radio and was in contact with the duty manager and the general manager. All attractions talked on the same frequency, making it easier to keep everyone in the picture constantly, something that is essential in an area where wild predatory animals exist alongside humans and potential prey. I had the duty of making sure that if I had to I could shut down the attractions and get visitors to a safe ar-ea in the event of a predator escaping - a rare situa-tion. In fact it was more likely that my dead mother would win the lottery than a lion or tiger get out into the human area. Although I was looking at the sparkling waters, my eyes werent really seeing anything. Even though my colleagues were sitting on the small jetty right in front me, watching the huge swan pedal boats with their passengers pedalling furiously and trying to either dodge the next swan or crash into it depending upon their age and mentality, I was staring through them. My unseeing eyes were focussing on a distant memory of the past yet again, one that had left its scar in my life and even though Id rather forget the past, wouldnt let me. It was 1966 and Id just passed my A levels. As did many young men at that time, I joined a company that was an Anglo-American joint venture at a mine called Rhokana Deep, reputed to be the deepest copper mine in the world. My entry in the staff roster said trainee mining engineer. My programme was to learn all aspects of mining from the clawing dirt rock face, to non-destructive testing of the 99.7% pure copper, at the end of which I would then specialise in the area I was found to be best at. I secretly hoped it would be in the laboratories as I had passed GCE A level Physics with distinction and loved working with metals and their conductivity. The course I had taken to achieve that distinction had included some work with rare metals and radioactive metals such as Radium, Uranium and Plutonium. These names echoed around in my head and seemed to mingle with my own name in a strange yet forceful way, making me shake my head to snap out of the historic vision before me. Hey Rob! Stick the kettle on mate; Im coming in for tea in a few mins! It was Moola, one of my team, coming across from the zip-line attraction to have a break. His cheery voice had broken into my day dream and I blinked a bit to re-focus on the approaching young man. He was about twenty or twenty five and a native of Ascension Island far out in the mid-Atlantic, a lovely warm brown colour with a wide toothy grin. Okay Moola – its on, I called back as I flicked the switch on the kettle and picked up a small piece of copper wire that I had been unconsciously twisting into a sort of spring. It made my thoughts return to the copper mine. I could never forget what possibly became the most traumatic event in my life; the day I collapsed four and a half miles down a mine. I had been taken down to the main seam rock face, about 7,000 metres below the surface, along with ten other trainees. We were taken up to the end of the tunnel where the face-workers had just finished drilling holes at twenty centimetre intervals and blasting technicians were now carefully inserting sticks of explosive, one into each hole. The foreman accompanying us pointed up to the huge pipes on each side of the tunnel. See those – he began, they are connected to a se-ries of pumps all the way up the shaft, the pressure has to be maintained at normal levels by these pumps, not only providing us with fresh air, but also making sure that we dont suffer any serious consequences as a result of the air pressure this far down. What do they do to maintain the pressure at normal levels then – and what is normal? one of the team asked. 1 bar is normal - you may hear weather reports giving barometric pressure as around 1000 millibars - that is 1 bar. So, the pressure without them would be between 5 and 7 bars or maybe higher, and it might cause blood vessels to burst or rupture. The pumps bring down fresh air and then pump away at a higher volume, the carbon dioxide laden dirty air; this causes the pressure to drop to a safe level. He gestured with his arm as he ushered us away from the rock-face, Now we must move back and into the safety shaft while the explosive is detonated. He led us back into a lateral shaft and closed a heavy wooden door over its entrance. In a few seconds we were joined by the men who had been placing the ex-plosives into the holes. One of them was feeding out wire from a large reel as he walked backwards into the shaft. He closed and secured the door after pushing a plug into a socket in the side of the reel and went over to a panel on the wall. He was sweating profusely and covered in dust. He pressed a red button labelled 20-RPT and a large red light came on above his head. A claxon sounded three times and he spoke into a mi-crophone – Fire in the Hole! Fire in the Hole! Clear walkways, clear walkways, twenty seconds, standby - - - - ten seconds, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four - A click behind me made me jump, the kettle had boiled. Has that kettle boiled yet? I was really rattled, my mind so vividly reliving the mo-ment. Yes, Moola, cups are over there mate. I gestured to-wards the small table on which there were half a dozen mugs, a bottle of milk and a bowl of sugar. Thanks, my man, you want some? Please - milk, no sugar. Ugh, how can you drink it without sugar?! Easy, havent taken sugar since 1975 - some time Ill tell you why . . . Moola didnt take up that hook, he had already heard some of my stories and knew thered be some sinister reason why I didnt take sugar and wasnt prepared to find himself hating the substance that he loved so much. He spooned three heaps into his cup. I looked away in disgust; I couldnt accept it in my drinks, not even strong black coffee when I felt inclined to drink it. I coughed slightly and the pain at the top of my wind-pipe reminded me of my earlier reminiscence down the deep copper mine. As Moola stood down a cup beside me and sat back with his feet on the table, I allowed my mind to return to that awful day in 1966. I recalled that I had been listening to the count-down and wondering what all the switches were that the blasting technician had set. The countdown held the clue as to the label on the master button, 20 for the number of seconds, and RPT for rapid percussion terminal, and as the operator called out one---zero-- Fire in The Hole the detonations started. Each stick of dynamite exploded milliseconds before the next so that the blasting lasted just a few seconds, during which some fifty detonations had occurred. The door shook heavily with the blast, dust forced its way through the cracks and the noise was incredible even though the heavy door was closed and secured. As the sound was dying away, I felt a very strange sensation. I couldnt explain when asked later just what it was I felt; only that it was the last sensation my conscious mind had recorded until I felt cool air on my cheek and looked up at the face of a pretty young nurse. Where am I? I asked The Infirmary she replied Why? Accident at the face, dont worry, youre all out, no-ones badly hurt. I looked about me; every bed was occupied by my col-leagues and friends. Two beds away from me the cur-tains were pulled around so that I couldnt see who was there. The bed immediately next to me was occu-pied by Stringer one of my fellow trainees, he didnt look well. Both eyes were surrounded by dark black rings; his ears had large plugs of cotton wool in them. He turned towards me and blood began to ooze through the cotton wool, and out of the corners of his eyes. His mouth opened but no words came. The nurse quickly pulled the curtains round his bed. I went to say something but was suddenly overcome by a vio-lent coughing fit, so violent in fact that I turned on my side and grasped the pillow in agony. I felt strange, and couldnt get my breath. I waved my hand in the air. In moments the nurse pulled my curtain round the bed, and she bent over to look at me closely. She stepped out of the curtain and I heard her speak to the doctor at my friends bedside. 421 has relapsed, I think hes flooding again, can you come please. I was losing consciousness as I thought to myself Re-lapse, flooding, whats going on . . . It all went very dark. The sensation of that moment in the infirmary brought on a mild panic attack as I stared at the boat-ing lake and I realised my hands were shaking, spilling the tea from the cup Moola had put in front of me. Bob, Number 8 has got a list to one side, shall we call it in? I was once again jerked away from my thoughts as Katy, one of the team who had been sitting on the jetty stood in front of me. Sorry, what was that? I said, one of the Swans has got a bad list - must be taking in water - shall we call it in? Yes, get it back in and Ill radio Mick down at mainte-nance to come up with the winch – mustve got a crack - why the kids think theyre made to crash into each other I dont know! Okay well get it done - any chance of relief for a short break . . . ? Of course darling - Ill come out as soon as youve got No. 8 in - Okay? Thanks. I watched her pick her way back to the gate that al-lowed her to return to the jetty. She was twenty three and five feet tall, her slim figure and blonde pony-tail hiding the fact that she held a high category level in Tai-Kwando and could probably kick a man twice her size to death! We had enjoyed a quick bout one day, I using my class II Kung-Fu, and she her Tai-Kwando. She had downed me three times. I rubbed my left shoulder, it still had the bruises. Sara had told me I was a silly old git for trying to take Katy on, and wed both had a good laugh about it. No. 8 was returning to the jetty, so I picked up the radio and called for Mick. At first there was no answer and I was about to call again when one of the lion keepers decided to advise the bear enclosure that a lioness was close to their fence. I waited for the cross-talk to finish and was going to make a second call, but Micks voice came out of the speaker asking me to go ahead. I had a quick discussion about the holed swan boat and Mick agreed to be there in a few minutes with the winch. Bears talked with Lions again for a few minutes, and the radio was again quiet. I clipped the radio to my belt and strode quickly to the jetty. I ges-tured toward the cabin. Off you go then, Katy, take fifteen, its quiet today. Ive got the radio, but youll have to be my eyes. I cant see the Chinese hat or the zip line from here - if you see anything that needs me or the duty manager - wave at me, please, Okay? Okay - no problem - Moolas got his feet on the table, so Ill have to sit your side of it anyway. Cheers, see you later. I knew I couldnt allow my mind to drift too far now that I was with Jack, a teenager, and responsible for lives of people who could drown if they fell out of their swan or walked off the end of the jetty. I sat quietly for the fifteen minutes Katy was away, then, on her return, sent Jack off for a break. I spent the next fifteen minutes discussing with Katy the reflections off the water, the ducks, the distant clatter of the Chinese Hat and the fact that Jack wasnt looking out of the window even though he had been asked to do so. I stood up, smiled briefly at Katy and returned to the cabin. Jack - get your backside out of that chair and back on the jetty - and when I ask you to keep a lookout for any problems I expect you to do so - please remember that next time, okay? Jack heaved his larger than should be frame out of the chair with a sigh and a mutter. K Thanks mate - never mind - only a couple of hours to go. I patted him on his shoulder as he went. He didnt look back. He took his place alongside Katy and in seconds was once again catatonic. I laughed, coughed again, and held my chest as the pain once again reminded me of that day in 1966, after the accident near the rock face deep underground. After two weeks in the mines infirmary I was released and one of the employee representatives invited me to attend a formal inquiry. With some trepidation, a great deal of pain in my chest, and a sad feeling in my heart, I made my way to the education centre. Phil, the deputy to the Personnel Manager for the site, was waiting along with seven others of my trainee colleagues. No-one spoke as Phil ushered me in. Right thats everyone, he said. No it isnt! I snorted, Wheres Stringer, and Josh, and Morley and…. All that are coming are here! Phil snapped, but then immediately smiled, Listen, theyre still not well enough to join us. What the hell happened to us…? All in good time, were coming to that! I sat down with the others. It was a long drawn out meeting, representatives of all the unions were pre-sent, all departmental managers, their deputies and two senior executives were present. Engineers and electricians responsible for plant maintenance were also there. I recalled now how they had all had their piece to say, and how I had sat there looking from one to another as they spoke. The conclusion of the meet-ing was the bombshell statement by the chairman of the meeting to all eight trainees that in the companys opinion we were not going to be suitable to be trained as mining engineers. What had actually happened was just what we had been discussing at the rock face. I once again felt the anger rising as I remembered the sweeping under the carpet of the event and the documented reason for my dismissal being my failure to make the grade. I felt the sweat of my hands on the black casing of the radio and swapped it to the other hand after wiping it with kitchen towel from the tea cupboard. Swans, come in, Swans do you copy? The crackle of the radio dragged me back to the pre-sent once again. Swans receiving, go ahead control. I was holding the radio as my eyes swept a long arc from the left to the right. Was there a problem? All I could see were people enjoying themselves; little chil-dren running excitedly from one parent to the other, and down to the lakeside to throw something to the ducks; people sitting or lying on the grass; and the Ma-caws on the perches over towards the marine life cen-tre. Standby, message from Hugh Montriallio Standing by Hugh Montriallio was the Senior Executive of the whole umbrella company, based in an office in Hertford. Rob, you and Tim are to receive an award for out-standing customer service, from the Chairmans office, following a visit by the Sheikh Abdul Mustafa-Bin-Zuleman of the Emirates last week. The two of you will need to come dressed in best suits tomorrow for escort to the Sheikhs hotel in Mayfair for the luncheon and presentation. I cant raise Tim as hes on the quad-bike out in the bracken somewhere and reception isnt too good - can you try and catch him before we all leave tonight. I didnt know what to say. An award! For what, doing what I always did, being polite and helping elderly and little ones on and off railway carriages, rides or the boats. Er - roger on that, and - er, thank you. I held the radio in my right hand and stared at it. There was silence everywhere - everyone had heard the message of course. Then all of a sudden I physically heard cheering from all the various areas, some using the radio and blocking each others signals as they did so, others just cupping their hands and shouting out. Lions to Swans - good on yer mate! Bears to Swans - well done Tigers to Swans - got Tim here, hes speechless - ha ha! Swans to EVERYONE - SHUT UP! More crackling and cheering, then silence and responsible attention to the dangerous animals around them was restored. I put down the radio and stood to look at my colleagues on the jetty; they would have heard the cheering and wondered what was going on. I waved at Katy and she looked towards me, I gestured that she should come over, which she did straight away. Did you hear that cheering? she asked, Whats go-ing on? Someone has been given a special award and acco-lades for services to a special visitor and his family - its just been on the radio. Who? I cant tell you at the moment - but youll find out to-morrow…? Aw, okay. Katy returned to the jetty. I thought about this award for a few minutes, and then parked it so that I could write up my report in the diary for the day. Having completed that I remembered what I was thinking about when the radio message came in, the mine accident. The angry recollection of the sweeping under the carpet of the accident four and a half miles down. As the foreman had said, I recalled - …… the pressure has to be maintained at normal lev-els by these pumps, not only providing us with fresh air, but also making sure that we dont suffer any seri-ous consequences as a result of the air pressure this far down…… That was exactly what HAD happened. The blasting had caused a fuse to jump out at level 16, 6,000 feet above us, and everything on that circuit stopped, in-cluding the air pumps. In just twenty seconds the pressure went from 1.2 BAR to 6.7 BAR. This was similar to ascending to the surface in the sea from 300 metres down in 20 seconds. Everyone at that level had passed out. I was one of the lucky ones; I had suffered a rupture of the capillaries in the trachea just above the fork that then becomes the two bronchial tubes taking air down to the lungs. As I had been lying on my left side, the left lung had filled up with blood before they could get me out and, in the infirmary, on my back; the right had begun to flood with blood also. Drastic and emergency action had saved my life and it took several minutes to pump the blood out of the lungs and flush them out with saline solution whilst ventilating all the time. However, once the rupture had sealed, the life-threatening danger was over. Things were not so good for Stringer. He had suffered a rupture to a main artery to the brain, blood filled his cranial cavity, putting pres-sure on the brain and secondary ruptures had occurred behind the eyes and in the ears. He was a long time in hospital and after six months had to learn to do most things all over again, including walking. Each one of us had a severe injury, enough to require a lengthy rehabilitation. I found out on my return to the UK in 1968 that I had scar tissue on the trachea where the ruptures had been. I was told that this scar tissue had no hairs on the surface like the rest of the trachea walls. A doctor explained that these hairs or cillae are there to push dust-laden mucus back up the trachea to the throat where it is usually swallowed and destroyed by the stomach acid. In my case, this doesnt happen; the mucus just keeps going down, into the lungs making me have to cough hard every so often. As I thought of this I coughed and cleared some of the mucus. I looked at my watch. Twenty minutes to closure. I waved at the two on the jetty making a circular motion which they understood was to get the last couple of boats in and close down. They were pleased to get that signal, and one of the boats was already returning to them, the other soon followed. I sighed, thought about that accident and how the records had been erased back at the mine, so that when I had tried to pursue a compensation case back in the UK in 1969, it had failed because no-one could produce evidence to support the fact that the accident occurred. Today I continue to cough and when people look at me quizzically, or make comments about my cough, I sometimes say - Sorry, its a four and a half mile cough - which means absolutely nothing to them, but if theyre interested Im happy to explain. I shut the door on the cabin, radioed the control centre to advise that all boats were chained up and the lock on the gate had been set. My two colleagues for that day, and I, went to join the others at the staff assembly point near the education centre, from where we would then go to our cars and leave the park. After enduring many pats on the back Tim and I fought our respective ways back to our cars and beat a hasty departure, looking forward to the next day and its excitement of luncheon and the award. and so, forever, I cough, OK?
Posted on: Mon, 18 Nov 2013 23:25:40 +0000
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