Made tough

My stubbornness seldom shows through more than when you try to get me to visit the doctor or take medication when I’m sick. I hate having to make the trip to the store, the price-gouging, and actually having to remember to take the medication. However, this past week, I went rushing to the store in search of a cure. I contracted the notorious stomach virus that’s been plaguing much of the world. I felt like a weakling as I lay around whining and moaning to anyone who would listen (when I wasn’t in self-inflicted solitary confinement). I also had plenty of time to dwell on the stories about the toughness of those with ailments and injuries in the days gone by when quick trips to the pharmacy weren’t an option or necessarily wanted. These made me realize I was lucky to be able to recuperate for days in bed and run to the store to get medicine. Some stories also made my stomach lurch—at least I think that was the result of reading the stories:

My neighbor, Mr. Zoch, was one tough man. Once, he was using his combine and got it choked up. He got off the tractor and walked around the back to see which belt was slipping. After he found which belt was slipping, he grabbed hold of it and pulled on it to help it roll around its pulley. The pulley was stuck tight causing it to slip. He kept on pulling and it finally turned loose. The pulley and the belt started together, only the belt forced his fingers on his left hand in the groove of that pulley and caused them to break. But like I say, Mr. Zoch was tough. He never cried or hollered loud; he just came up to the shop and held up his broken fingers for us to see.

Another time, Mr. Zoch was gonna show his grandson how to work the Farmall tractor with a sickle mower attached to mow the weeds growing in the pasture. Mr. Zoch was standing on the back of the tractor drawbar while his grandson Donald Haygood was driving. They hit some rough terrain and Mr. Zoch got too close to the power take-off drive shaft. It grabbed his loose overalls by the pants leg, ripped his britches, and almost tore his hide off. Mr. Zoch came to the shop and showed it to us after he wrapped it up with some old dish clothes. His pain reliever: a sick pack of Pearl beer. His daughter rushed him to Dr. Gaddy. Dr. Gaddy said, “We’re gonna have to bandage you up and keep you here overnight to check you.” Mr. Zoch said, “I’m not staying. I’m going home where I got my Pearl beer. That’s all that I need. I don’t need any of your fancy medicine.” Mr. Zoch came home, and he drank his Pearl beer. He recuperated.

Mr. Zoch demonstrated his toughness and remarkable ability to recuperate once again when he went to pick up the meat from a meat locker plant in Granger. He was going to the meat locker to pick up the fresh tongue, heart, and liver of his slaughtered animal. Kris Doerfler had taken a calf to the Granger meat locker plant to be butchered because Mr. Zoch didn’t have a trailer. On the way to pick up the meat, right past Scott’s grainery, Mr. Zoch ran off the road at a curb and hit a tree head on. Since he wasn’t driving real fast, the damage wasn’t all that bad, but he couldn’t move the car. He grabbed his bucket and dishtowels. Kris waited at the locker plant, knowing that Mr. Zoch was coming. Since he didn’t show, Kris decided to backtrack and sure enough, here’s Mr. Zoch walking along the side of the road toward Granger, bucket in hand. Kris stopped and asked him where he was going in a comical way. Mr. Zoch sarcastically replied, “That’s none of yer business.”

Well, they went back to Granger and got the heart, liver, and tongue. Kris brought them back to his home. Mr. Zoch said he had to have a beer because he was hurtin’. Lots of time, Mr. Zoch bought Pearl beer in quarts, and I think this was a quart job. It was that evening when Mr. Zoch’s son-in-law and daughter, Lewis and Gladys, came to visit. His daughter told him, “Papa, we need to take you to the doctor if you’re hurtin’ that bad in your side from the wreck. We went to get the car and it looks pretty bad. Besides, you’re gonna have to report the accident to the Highway Patrol.” Mr. Zoch said, “They don’t need to know everything.” But his daughter said, “This is the law and Papa, you better not drink anymore beer or else they gonna smell it on you.” Papa said, “I’ll drink enough to where I don’t hurt.” They took him to Dr. Gaddy again, and Dr. Gaddy wrapped him up and said, “You broke some ribs.” Mr. Zoch said, “I figured I did, and I figured I’m gonna suffer but Pearl will get me through.” That was my neighbor, Mr. Zoch.