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Stories: Memories of a Weekend in May N99TX
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| It had been a wonderful weekend visiting with family in Prescott, Arizona. On Friday afternoon, May 16, 2003, my brother flew up to Salt Lake City in his new small plane to pick us up and take us back to AZ for the baptism of his son, John Paul, on Saturday. Dewey had recently (30 days prior) purchased a six-seat single-engine Piper Turbo Saratoga, to transport his entire little family on short trips (mostly flying to Utah to visit).
Our flight south Friday afternoon was memorable, as I could not remember a time I had seen the Grand Canyon and Bryces Canyon so vividly beautiful from the air. There were four of us in the plane: Dewey Levie, the pilot and my younger brother, Jon Duke my husband, Connor Duke, my third son who had just turned 22 years old, and myself, Shauna Levie Duke. Connor was having a great time co-piloting the plane, and his Uncle Dewey had sincerely complimented him on his flying skills. We all wore headsets that cut out the background noise of the plane and allowed us to talk and joke with each other. On the same frequency, a cd was playing softly, creating a sweet atmosphere of beautiful scenery, uplifting music, family unity---and Connor was having a great time flying the plane and I was really proud of how well he was performing!
Dewey set the plane down, without even a bump, on his private rural landing strip in Paulden, AZ just as the sun was thinking of setting. We had never seen his airplane hanger, and it was really cool. He had this little lawnmower type gadget that attached to the front tire of the plane, allowing him to maneuver it into the hanger, and fit between his little four-seat Piper plane, the boat, and all the supplies he kept to clean the planes, shelves of food storage and even a little work area. It was neat as a pin, and reflected Deweys passion for flying. The runways were well marked and well maintained. I did not realize he had such a nice set-up and I took lots of pictures. My brother is an excellent IFR rated pilot, with scores of flying hours a great deal of flight experience.
On the way from the hanger to Deweys house, we passed the ballfield where John Pauls little league baseball team was playing. We were able to catch the last two innings of his game. Then we took the kids to Sonic for a burger. JP asked what the budget was for his order, and was told by his dad that he could order anything he wanted because Aunt Shauna was here. He ordered a large chocolate shake with his hotdog.
Saturday began very early as we had to prepare for the barbeque which would follow the baptism as well as get everyone ready for 10 am. Joey had to show up for the first part of his baseball game so his team would not have to forfeit, so Uncle Jon assisted there. A run back to the house for dry underclothes, a lengthy family photo shoot and we were ready to start. The program for the baptism was inspiring, with beautiful songs and a talk from Grandma Levie on the importance of baptism and scripture study. There were two young eight year old boys being baptized, and I gave them a new pair of white socks with a poem telling of the importance of the cleansing power of baptism. The mother of the other little guy gave the talk on the Holy Ghost and the Spirit of the Lord was present that hour. I was so happy I could be there for the day.
That afternoon Jon and I went over to mom and dads house in Prescott to spend the night with them and attend church the next morning with my brother and his new wife, and then head back to Utah right after noon. Connor headed down to Phoenix for a date with Emily Bate, someone he had dated at BYU. That evening Jon and I took a ride on the four wheeler around the mountainside. Jon showed me where he had worked, 26 years earlier, digging the trenches for the power and telephone lines. This area is called Granite Mountain, and he swore that the granite was in abundance everywhere they needed to excavate. He pointed to the spot where the backhoe toppled over and nearly crushed him, where the sand was a welcome respite and where he spent three months manual labor in the hot AZ sun. Earlier in the day, Jon was able to spend a few hours visiting with Grandpa Dewey, my 91 year-old grandfather, while Tonya and I helped mom pack for their upcoming trip to the east coast. By nightfall, Daryl had the new waterfeature operational, and we took lots of pictures as the light reflected off the cascading water.
Sunday morning the phone rang early because Dewey had just checked the weather and learned there were some erratic winds predicted for the afternoon, so he thought we better get in the air as soon as possible. We just showered and ran out the door. Despite our haste, when we arrive out at the hanger, the hot winds had already began to gust. In route from the house to the hanger, Dewey was thinking out loud as he tried to decide the best method of departure. He talked to Connor about holding the throttle in full position to avoid loosing power (which had caused some stress on our departure from SLC on Friday). He verbalized that there were a few things on this new plane that were not as great as they had been represented by the broker. Like the fact it had an accident history
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In the hanger, Dewey and Connor checked all the fluids and prepared the plane for takeoff. I suggested that we take the little plane, because it was not so expensive to fly, and it was our turn to buy fuel. Dewey said that he preferred getting the hours of experience in the six-seater and if Connor would fly, he would be able to program his panel and become a little more familiar with the new bird. As we taxied to the runway, we could hear him over the headsets trying to outguess the wind and adverse conditions. He talked about using runway 9 instead, debated, tried to act fast----suddenly we were mounting speed. One of the most vivid memories I retain of this whole incident, is the sound of the Sunday music over the headset at takeoff. As Dewey was flipping switches and gaining momentum for take off, these words were sounding in my ears: When Im tossed upon the water, When winds of change begin to blow
I felt a little worried, and thought to myself this is not a good sign that these words of tossed water and changing winds are accompanying our takeoff. I felt the tires leave the runway, it was too late.
I could tell the winds were fighting against us and we were being tossed and thrown. Jon and I were facing the back of the plane (the front two of the four club seats). It was like the tail was dragging and could not lift. I could feel that the nose was trying to climb, but soon heard the pitch of the engine change, and the stall warning signal outside my headset. Dewey yelled that we were heavy, and needed to get weight forward. I released my belt and threw myself through the seats toward Connor. From that moment, things are a blur in my mind. Unfortunately, they were not a blur to my husband as he observed everything about the take-off, the stall, the height (they figure we were 100 to 125 up before we started down) and the fall. He just sat there helplessly watching, preparing himself for the worst. Next thing we knew, sand and dirt were everywhere, and everything from the top of the plane was falling down around us. Connor yelled that the plane was on fire and Dewey yelled to get out fast. I could not move. I remember setting there and thinking that I would just have to burn, because I could not move. Jon reached over me and beat upon our door, then realized he needed to release the latch. It opened! Jon dove over me, head first, onto the sandy ground and then worked to pull me out. Connor was not able to get the front door open, and had to lay back and kick at it, as the impact damage was to his side of the plane. It finally opened a few inches so he and Dewey could escape. The fire on the wing was only about a foot away from them as they fled. Connor came around to my side to help Jon pull me out of my seat, and carry me away. My first thought was that I needed my camera.
The pain in the middle section of my body was so intense I could not breathe, as they drug me away from the fire, which was now enveloping the plane. Black smoke quickly rose, beaconing help. People started to gather. Connor and Jon laid me in the back of the truck belonging to the local sheriff (who conveniently rented Deweys house which was adjacent to the hanger). Through the fog in my mind, I observed a neighbor woman working on me trying to find a pulse. Evidently, she had some emergency training, and knew enough to try to cover me, keep my feet elevated, and try to monitor my vital signs. She had a blood pressure cuff, and tried over and over to get a reading. I remember telling her that I had very low blood pressure and how proud I was that I could always beat my husband that the Healthy Vitals Contest at our local Target pharmacy. She might have responded that non-existent was not necessarily healthy, but is was all such a blur. The only way I can think of to describe the moments of time between the impact and the helicopter flight is surreal or dreamlike. I must have floated in and out of consciousness, being coherent enough to give my name and address, but feeling that something was very wrong inside of my body. I dont know the time frame, but I remember lying in the truck bed observing all the hustle and bustle around me. I couldnt focus on the dilemma-my elusive pulse, but just wanted the pain in my center to subside. My husbands voice was reassuring in my mind as he asked the paramedics if he had time to give me a blessing. My mind was lucid as Dewey anointed me and Jon pronounced a priesthood blessing of faith and healing upon me, assisted by Connor and Dewey. Then they tightly strapped me onto a very uncomfortable board and shifted me into the helicopter, every slight movement causing deep pain, deep inside.
Someone later asked me if I was afraid to go up in another aircraft-didnt even register that I was going to be airborne again. In route to Phoenix, John C. Lincoln Trauma Center, with the aid of modern medical miracles and priesthood miracles from above, my pulse beat, my vitals returned and I was stabilized. During the deafening hour flight, I remember saying this little prayer over and over again: Heavenly Father, Thy will be done. If there is work I need to do here on earth, then please spare my life; if I am needed on the other side, thy will be done.
Upon arrival at the hospital one of the trauma nurses comment that she could not believe my condition and that they did not even have to cut off my clothes. They injected some morphine (that was nice) and soon had me in the radar room scanning every inch of my body. Soon after the machines stopped, the doctor came in to look at the results. He immediately told me there was no serious internal injury, and he felt I would make a speedy and complete recovery. They would keep me in the hospital over night for observation and keep me medicated for the pain. They wheeled me into recovery, and my angel sister, Tonya, soon arrived. She lives in Phoenix, is a Registered Nurse, and knew all the right questions to ask as well as interpreting the answers. She stayed right with me, then later took Jon & Connor home to sleep. The night was long, I did not sleep well, the accident kept replaying in my head and I hurt all over. It was MaryAnns birthday and I was worried we had ruined her day. The lady in the other bed watched Hispanic television hour after hour, and that was pretty painful too!
They released me at about noon on Monday, May 19th, 2003. Tonya drove us to the airport, no need to check our luggagea small grocery sack with Connors bloody shirt and tie and the lotion and socks from the hospital. We walked up to the Southwest airlines desk, and said we needed to get to Salt Lake City. The attendant told us there was a flight at 2:30 which we could try to get on standby, but we would be guaranteed to make the 4:50 flight. After hearing our tale of woe she called her manager, and quickly had us reserved and issued pre-boarding status on the earlier flight. Her adjustment and kindness were badly needed and sincerely appreciated.
Monday and Tuesday following the crash, all three of us were uneasy and giddy. As we look back, it seems we were still exhibiting some signs of shock. Tuesday, we all returned to work, but have to admit were not very effective. Wednesday was not much better as my emotions seemed to rise and fall and the trauma of the accident would not leave my head for more than a few moments at a time. When I spoke with Dewey on Wednesday, he informed me the FAA and his insurance were tickled pink I had returned to work. Im sure they were. Thursday, I had an appointment with my physician where she examined me and felt I would completely recover physically. She warned me to watch out for the post traumatic stress symptoms, which would be very real. She was right.
Epilogue
Each day following the accident we have been made increasingly aware just how fortunate we are to be alive. When the FAA investigator reviewed the crash site and the plane, he told Dewey that the power lines had probably saved our lives. They were wrapped around the prop and the landing gear, and it was as if they broke our fall and set us down. Yet, those same lines could have easily electrocuted us or caused the plane to explode upon contact. If we had put down in something other than sand, the chances of the plane flipping over would have increased drastically. The FAA guy said he had investigated a crash in Albuquerque the previous week, with very similar circumstances. Three of those four people were killed and the forth still in serious condition.
After hearing the account of the accident, one of our dear friends made the following observation: Now that you KNOW your lives have been spared, the pressure is really on to know why and know what you are suppose to be doing to make the world a better place. I know that when my husband used his priesthood power (the power to act in Gods name) to bless me, events took a change and I was made whole. I know that my guardian angel was near.
I have since been able to locate the lyrics to the song which was playing over the headset as we taxied for takeoff that fateful morning.
All alone, I leave the harbor. So many oceans to explore.
On my own, I face the darkness, As I leave behind the safety of the shore.
When Im tossed upon the water,
When winds of change begin to blow,
His words of truth I will follow, The Saviors hope is the anchor of my soul.
Sailing on to deeper waters, The journey starts to take its toll.
I am lost amid the battles, That test my faith and stretch my soul.
Voices of the night try to tear me from the fight, but somewhere deep inside my heart I know, THAT
When Im tossed upon the water, When winds of change begin to blow,
His words of truth I will follow, the Saviors hope is the anchor of my soul. |
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"You are a great army of returned missionaries. Go forward with new zeal and determination, and through your example shine the light of the gospel in this troubled world. This is the Lord's work in which we are engaged. God lives. Jesus is the Christ. We belong to His Church. This is my witness to you in the name of Jesus Christ, amen."
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