Evie and I watched the skies from our back door. We oohed and aahed at the light show. Then quickly scampered back into the house when the thunder clapped.
Our satellite lost signal due to the storm, so instead we put on old episodes of Star Trek on Netflix. All three of us were comfy and snuggled into bed while the storm raged outside.
Then I got an alert on my phone: "Severe thunderstorms for Clark County." Clearly we didn't need an alert to know this was happening. But it wasn't the alert itself that caught my eye. When I clicked on the link provided, I was taken to a web page that showed something far more ominous than a thunderstorm ... power outages.
Already, 19,000 people had lost power in our surrounding area due to the storm.
I read the news to Jeff.
He looked at me with the serious face we both so often wear these days.
"You need to try to start the generator - just in case."
Because for us, a power outage is more than an inconvenience. My husband lives on life support. And he sleeps on a special rotating air mattress that helps prevent pressure sores on his skin. The battery for his wheelchair ventilator was fully charged, so in the case of an outage, we already had several hours of battery power available to keep him breathing. But we don't have a secondary power source for his bed. So we would need the generator for that.
Luckily, we were still at Yellow Alert at this point. We still had power. But Jeff was right - I needed to make sure the generator would fire up now. Because the alert status could hit Red at any moment.
Here's the thing: I had never started the generator before.
My father-in-law powers it up every once in a while to make sure it's working properly. He even wrote out simple, easy-to-follow instructions for me.
Until tonight, I'd never really looked at them.
Jeff told me to pull the generator away from the wall and make sure I had enough space to yank the cord. He said I didn't need to put the garage door up because if it fired up, I wasn't going to keep it on for long. I listened intently to his instructions. He's so good at talking me through things.
I put my headlamp on, got the instructions, and went to the garage.
I lugged the heavy generator into the middle of the open space in the garage and inspected all the elements. I found the gas lever, the choke, the power switch, and the pull handle.
The first three instructions were easy:
Gas on, check.
Choke on, check.
Engine switch on, check.
Then came the fourth instruction: "Pull starter rope until engine starts."
I knew this one was going to be the big hurdle.
I'm a small woman. With some pretty un-muscular arms. And tiny wrists. And dainty hands.
I didn't have much confidence that this would actually work.
I grabbed the handle and pulled.
The engine made a whirring sound, then stopped.
I pulled again. Same thing.
I pulled yet again. Still same thing.
I felt a twinge in my right shoulder. Like it was saying, "You're killing me, Sachs!"
I thought, maybe I need to pull slowly at first - until the rope had some tension, then pull fast. That was even worse than my first three attempts.
I took a breath and exhaled with force.
Kristen, you need to pull as hard as you can.
Pull it like the power just went out.
I yanked the cord hard and fast.
The engine whirred again, louder. And this time it didn't sputter out. It thundered to life, then settled into a low rumble.
I slowly turned off the choke, following the final instruction, then I let out a little cry and laugh combined. I could NOT believe it started.
For a few seconds, I just stood there taking it all in. The sound of the engine roared in my ears, the smell of the exhaust invaded my nose. It was loud and smelly, but I didn't care. Because that sound and that smell meant one thing to me: Life.
I let the generator run for another thirty seconds, then I shut it off.
I darted back in the house and shouted, "Did you hear it?"
"No!" Jeff said as I got to the bedroom. "Did it work?"
"I GOT IT STARTED!" My enthusiasm couldn't be hidden.
The surprise on his face mirrored the look on mine. Evie jumped up and down clapping. She was wearing her headlamp too.
The three of us celebrated our little victory as the storm continued to pound down.
In the end, we didn't lose power last night. But if we had, we were ready to spring into action.
There's a lot of planning that goes into living a life with a disability, especially if that life involves life support. Being proactive is just as important as being responsibly reactive. It's a lesson we've learned - sometimes the hard way - over and over ever since Jeff's injury.
Because the storm that hit us last night was just a blip on the radar compared to the one we've weathered every day for the last five years.
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| Me and my little storm chaser as we prepared for a potential power outage. |
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