"It wasn't me." Tammy told my mom. Tammy's my sister and racing buddy and she's used that line to it's full advantage since she was a wee tyke. But those words were a God-send to our family after a Friday that started Thursday night while getting ready to head to southern Utah for some escape riding from the mid-winter blues.

Southern Utah is guaranteed sunshine...guaranteed riding that can scare your socks off...it's the retirement community of a four- state region with a mean age of 75 and therefore they have an ambulance and paramedic at every corner. I adore southern Utah, I want to be buried there under the sagebrush and redrock. After I threw some laundry in the washer, I decided to work on my computer for a bit since it was having problems and I wanted to fix it. Now I don't know how to fix computers, but computers have plenty of 'help yourself stupid' messages that can assist you in really screwing things up. Which I did. Next thing I knew, the computer had gone into catatonic shock wiping out our internet connection and assorted random programs. Being fairly astute I realized we were hosed and that if I tried any more 'fixing' I'd probably black out the neighborhood. My husband was frantic at losing Minesweeper and I could no longer beat my head against a wall playing Spider Solitaire. So we had one computer and internet connection GONE.

I went downstairs and put a load of clothes in the dryer that I would need in St. George, went to bed and woke up Friday morning to find the dryer still going 8 hours later. I found that rather odd. After a thorough examination consisting of hitting the thing and feeling inside for warmth I determined that one dryer heating element was GONE. I looked out the window...the 'partly cloudy' weather was a wet drizzling mess that looked like it wouldn't lift 'til April. Which was fine with me, we were heading to Southern Utah where it never rains.

I kept packing and heard stomping and slamming downstairs where Chris was trying to load the bike trailer from the garage. I ignored it until about the 5th slam. 'WHAT is going ON?!" I asked. Chris snarled back "The garage door opener is broken" Being stupid I replied "Are you SURE???" This is a waaaaay-beyond-stupid question when a man is in a mechanical snit; it is suicide. The garage door was indeed ... GONE, as he so carefully pointed out to me.

Nine-year-old Connor piped up right about now..."Did you guys ride on some Indian burial ground or something?"

After careful consideration we decided that the "Ostrich Approach" would be best at this point. Stuff your head in a helmet and go riding. With pleasant visions of leaving all the broken stuff and the miserable weather behind, we hopped in the truck, turned the key and ... the truck wouldn't start. (At this point you have to seriously review whether you have indeed put tire tracks on some dead civilization's karma.) There was a shocked silence in the truck as Chris turned the key a second time. On the third try, some minor deity above took pity on us and we were on our way. We traveled 250 miles with increasing concern for what appeared to be a state wide cloud. As we dropped into the St. George area, natives were dancing in the streets at the rarer-than-frog's-hair rain and the words "snow" were appearing in a forecast. We were one dejected pack of desert rats.

Serious riders don't snivel at rain. But this was a vacation. You DON'T drive 250 miles to get out of winter to ride in "Utah's Dixie" and have to use studded Dunlops dammit!!! Basically inwardly I was throwing the tantrum I wanted to throw right after my dryer puked its guts out. I spent the evening worrying about the dryer, the computer, the garage door, the weather and that lousy itchy spot I'd developed from the tag on the back of my underwear which I was convinced was probably the beginnings of a fatal disease.

That's when the phone rang at my parent's house where we were staying Friday night. Mom picked up the phone, hung up and said quietly to our family "That was Tammy - she said a Life Flight helicopter has gone down, crew members are dead." Tammy is a Life Flight team transport nurse. Tammy had called to say "It wasn't me."

Life Flight landing on top of Primary Children's Hospital

In shock we turned on the news to see the news bulletins of a Life Flight crash in Salt Lake City, UT, that took the life of a pilot she trusted, had flown with and would have flown with that night had it been her call, the life of a Life Flight paramedic and had critically injured a Life Flight nurse. They were all people she knew and cared for. It could just as easily have been her.

My God how your perspectives can change in an instant.

Life Flight nurse Tammy Bleak tends a premature baby

If you've read my past articles, you know I have a particular fond spot for these men and women who fly and risk their lives daily so that others of us might get the help we need a little sooner and live. My sister goes up in these helicopters and planes regularly. Tammy's tried to get me up in a helicopter (held together I swear to you with what is affectionately known by my father as a 'Jesus Nut') for an itty bitty ride and I've made excuses like..."Sorry, I have to pluck the dog's eyebrows."

Luckily there are brave people out there. Big Al's daughter, Shauntel, is alive and sassing her mom and dad today because Life Flight saved her when she decided to enter the world far too soon. She is a beautiful and vivacious testament to their many successes. But for every success, there are failures. I have seen the heartache mirrored in the eyes of those who witness those failures. They cover it with a toughness and black sense of humor that is foreign to the layman. How many people do you actually witness either dead or in the dying process in your lifetime?

Above all I see the pride and determination that carries them through every transport. They touch down at our race sites, our recreation areas, our highways, lakes and ski resorts . If you ride, you have seen them, you know someone who was transported by them, you see them in the sky and know that somewhere, someone is badly hurt. I cannot see one flying overhead without a strange combination of pride, awe and sadness.

These amazing people have one thing in mind - and it's not how they're going to keep their clothes unwrinkled and clean after flying in a cramped helicopter in the hot summer with victims who might throw up or bleed on them - it's realizing that 'seconds matter' and finishing their transport.

A few years ago my sister was on a Life Flight helicopter making a night run when the helicopter lost its engine at more than 500 feet . On the way down they hit power lines, but the pilot managed to guide it onto a road that cleared in the last few seconds. As they hit the ground, the helicopter slid through an intersection with the light. When they slid to a stop, they could hear the rotor blades whapping a 'No Parking sign.'

If it was me, I think I'd have gone home, tossed back a few and quit shaking in a week. The Life Flight crew however, got out of the downed helicopter, hopped into a waiting ambulance and finished their transport. Tammy visited the doctor later. She suffered a back injury that day that will plague her all her motorcycle riding days.. She rides, she races - she'll kick my ass in a race any chance she gets. She, and others like her, will also be on board one of those helicopters one day when your kids need her. She specializes in pediatric and neonatal transport. And most likely our family will be waiting at a holiday dinner hoping she gets home in time to eat it hot. I think she's used to cold food, sleep deprivation and eating on the run. They all are.

Life Flight Crew

I'd wager my GasGas most of us have no idea the commitment the job demands. But deep inside, you have to know that these people are special. Haven't you noticed the relief you feel when you're tending a wounded rider, hovering by their side in anxious worry and you hear someone shout "Life Flight is here." Have you given that feeling of relief a second thought? At some point we know that things are beyond our control and we want someone we trust to take that control. When you see that helicopter touch down and those men and women come out with authority the burden is lifted from us and transferred to them. They accept it many times day in and day out on our behalf. Thank them sometime if you ever get the chance. If they're focused, they may not say much back (they're in a race - and that we understand) but they will remember your words and carry your thanks with them.

Between us as riders and the finish line stands the possibility of injury and though rarely, perhaps ultimately the decision by the fates between life and death. And in that brief moment when the fates remain undecided, when 'seconds matter', stand these men and women who squarely face and raise their fists to death on your behalf - and risk...knowingly, for none of them is blind...even their lives.

Say a prayer for the peace and safety of these angels in the sky.

Dedicated with love to my sister Tammy Bleak, the entire Life Flight family in Utah, transport teams nationwide and the family and friends of pilot Craig Bingham, paramedic Mario Guerrero, and Life Flight nurse Stein Rosqvist on board Life Flight Augusta #601RX's final flight on Friday, January 10, 2003.

Kim Orndorff
January 15, 2003

Life Flight has flown approximately 42,000 missions since it's beginning in 1978.

For more information on Helicopter Air Medical Transports from all over the world, please visit Alec Buck's EMS Helicopters.