I never was a complainer; that just isn’t my way. I always took care of other people and myself right along with that. My job at the coil plant required a lot of sitting. Most of the time this was ten hours a day; then the fifteen to twenty minutes of travel time each way.
I had been having some pain in my leg; but I didn’t miss any work over it, again just not my way of doing things. I was always healthy as a horse. Then one day at work I was sitting in my chair one minute and the next I was being picked up off the floor. Everyone insisted that I needed to go to the doctor, and it’s probably a good thing that I did; because I had a blood clot in my leg, and there was danger of it moving to my heart. I don’t know if it moved to my heart or not but I wound up in the hospital and in a coma for a week.
When I woke up enough to be in my right frame of mind; I started thinking about a gallon jug that I had been saving little notes in. I had in mind to write a book or my memoirs about growing up hard in Harlan County. I think someone else has written a book and that is what it was called, “Growing Up Hard in Harlan County.”
Let me get back to that jar and those notes. They wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else but to me they were little reminders of things that had happened to me as I was growing up in Harlan County. Any one else reading them would probably think I had lost my mind. I decided that as soon as I got out of the hospital I would destroy those notes.
I was in the hospital a total of about ten days and was back to work in fourteen days. The very first thing I did when I got home was build a fire and burn all of those little notes. Since I started talking to the recorder I sure have wished that I hadn’t done that. There were a lot of little memories there and I’m sure I have forgotten more than I can remember.
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