MIRACLE DEER - Russell “Tink” Tomlinson with his opening day seven-point, a hunt which most people would agree to be miraculous. - Photo by Holly Nelson

Wilber man gets his buck one year after near fatal explosion
by Holly Nelson

WILBER TWP. - Last year at this time, the Tomlinson family was standing vigil around the hospital bed of husband, father, grandfather and great grandfather Russell “Tink” Tomlinson.

As they prayed he would live, he was missing the firearms deer season opener for the first time since he was 12 years old - 64 years earlier.
The lifelong Wilber Township resident, now 77, did live to hunt again and, on opening day last Wednesday, Tomlinson shot himself a seven-point buck.

Tomlinson has taken many bigger and better bucks over his lifetime.

“Special? No, there wasn’t anything special about it,” he said. “It’s a seven point, but it’s small.”

The only miraculous thing about it, he contends, is that he saw a deer at all, given the continually declining deer population.

However, his daughter, Toni Rhoads of Oscoda, disagrees. This deer, taken at 9:20 a.m. on the Tomlinson farm, is very, very special, she said, as it represents a long journey, miraculous recovery and a unique spirit.

Tomlinson was hospitalized after an air-filled tank exploded while he was welding a handle onto it on Oct. 30, 2006.

On that day, the experienced welder forgot to open the release value on the tank.

It exploded into pieces, reported Rhoads, blowing a large hole in the roof of the 20-foot pole barn and permanently indenting a steel work bench.

His left hand and three fingers from his right were blown off. Both forearms were fractured, his left thigh was blown open and the skin was avulsed from his abdomen. The impact stripped the welding helmet from his head and threw him backward, resulting in head and brain injuries. Both ear drums were punctured.

About the only parts of him that weren’t injured or missing were his right leg and internal organs, Rhoads said.

On that day, the experienced welder forgot to open the release value on the tank.

It exploded into pieces, reported Rhoads, blowing a large hole in the roof of the 20-foot pole barn and permanently indenting a steel work bench.

His left hand and three fingers from his right were blown off. Both forearms were fractured, his left thigh was blown open and the skin was avulsed from his abdomen. The impact stripped the welding helmet from his head and threw him backward, resulting in head and brain injuries. Both ear drums were punctured.

About the only parts of him that weren’t injured or missing were his right leg and internal organs, Rhoads said.

The explosion could be heard at least two miles away and has become known as “the shot heard around Wilber.”

A distant neighbor heard it and fleetingly hoped it wasn’t Tink, who is known for being a bit accident prone, said Rhoads.

Tomlinson used the intercom to call the house, forgetting that his wife, Doris, was gone, he said.

Fortunately, the neighbor went to the Rhoads farm less than 20 minutes later. The visit was prearranged as he was to help Tomlinson with a project. He found his friend, bleeding and in pieces, but still conscious, and called for help.

When the ambulance page went out, it simultaneously sounded at the Rhoads home, where it was heard by his daughter, a paramedic and assistant director for Alcona County EMS and a volunteer for the Oscoda Area First Responders and EMS.

As she drove the long miles from western Oscoda, intending to go directly to the hospital, Rhoads prayed over and over: “My Heavenly Father, please help my earthly father.” Then came a call for a second ambulance. It turned out the injuries were so severe that additional personnel were needed to stabilize him enough to get him into the ambulance. Rhoads headed to the farm and a scene she will never forget.

Before the ambulance left the farm, a FlightCare helicopter was called and the pilot agreed to fly to Tawas hospital. The ambulance ride was the last thing Tomlinson can remember. It was several weeks, he said, before he was again conscious and alert.

Rhoads filled in the blanks. At the St. Joseph emergency room, Dr. Jon Mettert and hospital staff did what they could to stabilize him. Mettert, recognizing that the risk of infection could be just as deadly as the injuries, pumped him full of antibiotics before loading him in the chopper, she said.

“I credit God, the neighbor and Dr. Mettert for saving his life,” Rhoads said.

The helicopter took him to St. Mary’s Medical Center in Saginaw, where doctors did not think he would survive. As they worked to save him, it was with the goal of keeping him alive long enough for his family to say goodby, Rhoads said.

He did survive, thanks to prayers, excellent care and at least 10 operations. He was home by Christmas, minus a left hand and some of his hearing. The fingers of his right hand had been successfully reattached.

Tomlinson still had a long road to travel. He had to learn to walk again and to compensate for the loss of his left hand. Aiding in this were physical therapists at Alpena Regional Medical Center and St. Joe’s. As the anniversary of his accident rolled around, Tomlinson was completing his final PT session.

He would tell people he was “recovering from the big malfunction” and he was preparing for opening day.

Tomlinson had been a left-handed shooter. He had to teach himself how to hold his shotgun and to shoot with his right hand. So he practiced and practiced over the summer.

When Nov. 15 rolled around, he got up and went through the ritual of all hunters. He said he was a little late getting to his blind, though.

“I forgot how long it takes to get boots on with one hand,” he laughed. “I hadn’t used them for a while, so I hadn’t really thought about it ahead of time. Stuff you can do in 10 minutes takes me an hour or so.”

But he wasn’t going to miss another opener.

“Opening day is special,” he said. “It is the only day I ever took off when I was working,” admitted the retiree.

Once he reached the blind, he said, the buck came in before he was ready - meaning he had not yet had a chance to level the shotgun on a ledge.

“So I threw up my arm and used it,” he said, demonstrating how he crocked his left elbow and rested the barrel on his forearm. Then, with his stiff, reattached right fingers, he pulled the trigger and the deer went down.

Friday morning, he got a second buck, this time an eight point.

It was just him and his gun. He uses no special devices to compensate for his injuries. He said he doesn’t need such things.

There isn’t a trace of self pity for what he has lost.

“It isn’t that big a deal,” he said. “I’m the one who did it, nobody else. I’d rather it didn’t happen, but it did. So you take it the way it comes.”

By the way, Tomlinson is also welding again.

“How else are things going to get fixed around here?” he asked.