Third Person

I’ve heard accounts of people in distress. Absolute complete hopeless distress. There’s no way they’re getting out of it alive.

And in that instant, something shows up. Some people have actually spoken of a physical manifestation of something that intervenes and saves them. For others, it’s a voice in their head. And still others find themselves preforming feats that would have left Superman speechless.

I’ve heard of it spoken of by all manner of names and explanations. For some, it’s a simple part of our psychology that refuses to just lay down and die. Others say it’s an angel that steps in when needed. Still others compare it to the voice of God.

Whatever it is, and whatever people say it is, there is something in common.

The chips are down.

It’s game over.

You’re going to die.

But something isn’t going to let that happen.

They call this the Third Man Syndrome. I don’t have a clue what it is. But I’m no stranger to it. It and I have had more than a few encounters.

Most recently, it was last week.

I was in our attic checking on something. I’d been up there a dozen times. As long as I stayed on the boards, I was okay. I was moving from one board to another. One thing I should have mentioned was that the boards have insulation on them. Insulation can be like stepping on ice.

I stepped and my foot slipped. My right leg went right through the ceiling. Off balance, I fell. Not through the ceiling, but in the only place that had two boards near each other. The impact stunned me. I seem to recall losing track of at least a second or two. When I opened my eyes (I had my safety glasses on still), I’m looking into a sea of insulation. Several years ago we had a considerable amount of insulation blown into the attic where I was. We’re well above code for our area and I was buried in it.

I was lying on my right side, my arm pinned under me. I tried to lift myself out of the spot I was in, but I couldn’t get any leverage to do so.

I cried for help, but when I opened my mouth, insulation flooded into it. I heard Julie asking if I was Okay, but there was no way she could help me. My leg was against the door and she couldn’t get in. While Greeley Fire wasn’t far away, it would still take them a minute or two to get here and then up to me.

By that time, I’d be in real trouble having suffocated in the insulation.

I was on my own.

That’s when an almost supernatural calm came over me. “Okay,” a voice said. I’ve no idea where it came from, but I know it wasn’t me. “Let’s work the problem. You know Julie can’t help you and the Fire Department is too far in the future. You can’t pick yourself up because you have nothing to grab hold of. You stay here; you’ll suffocate in the insulation.”

That pretty well summed up the problems.

“There’s only one way out. Roll over and finish falling through the ceiling. Grab hold of the beam and try to control the fall as much as you can.”

It made perfect sense. I rolled and went plummeting through the ceiling. Trying to grab the beam didn’t work to well.

Julie says I was non-responsive for a minute or two.

I opened my eyes. I was covered in insulation and coughing. I could hear Julie outside the door and I somehow staggered to my feet. Aside from hacking up a lung, I seemed to be okay.

Then she saw the blood. My right ear was bleeding badly and she could see it was almost torn in half.

And away I went to ER and to have it sewn back together.

In the days that followed, I’d say I felt like I went the distance with Muhammad Ali and then Mike Tyson was nice enough to try to bite my ear off. I was sore, in pain, but slowly things got better. The bruises have pretty much faded and Friday, I get the stitches out.

But the voice that urged me to calm down and suggested a course of action remains a mystery.

Even if I’m sure I know where it came from.

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