Author's note: Just a quick disclaimer, I am not a medical professional so the hospital scenes in this chapter are based on both my own experiences and some research I have done. I do apologize for any mistakes I made in my descriptions of anything regarding the medical system.
Anyway, you're not reading this for disclaimers, so on to the actual story.
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Chase woke up at his normal time. It was a Saturday in late December and he had the next week off from work. After he had taken the neighbor girl with him to look at fields a month or so ago, he had noticed that the front main seal on the engine in his 4650 Deere was leaking. To fix that, he'd had to rebuild the engine, which worked out well because that engine was sure to get a good break-in from ripping all his fields in the spring. He'd also pulled the dipstick on his 4255, but the oil came out overfull and looking like a milkshake, so he knew that engine was likely going to need pulled from the tractor and the block and crankshaft would need cleaned. That certainly wasn't going to be cheap or easy.
As he got dressed, he prepared himself for what he had been planning to do for the day. He was going to give his 7720 combine a thorough inspection. The combine didn't have many hours on it and the engine ran perfectly fine, but he had noticed some harsh vibrations when he'd turned on the separator. He reasoned that it was likely due to the threshing cylinder being out of balance, and so he wanted to check it this morning to see what was wrong with it.
Within a few minutes he began walking toward the shed and was instantly reminded that it had snowed last night as there was about four inches of it lying around. "Good thing I haven't touched that loader tractor yet." He thought to himself. "That'll be helpful today." When he reached the shed he walked inside, turned on the lights, and weaved his way around to the combine. The feederhouse had drifted down so he would have to start the machine to raise it in order to clear the rocktrap and check the cylinder. First however, he wanted to look through the separator for any clues about what might have happened. As he looked across the sieves, he noticed several bent sets of fins towards the front of the shaker box. Curious if the walkers showed similar damage, he climbed up to the top of the machine and opened the walker cover and shined a light down inside. Sure enough, the fronts of several walkers were bent as well.
"Nice." He thought to himself. "This thing's had rocks run through it and they beat the hell out of the sieves and walkers. I'm gonna have to tear the whole separator apart to fix everything." He closed the walker cover and climbed down from the back of the machine and made his way around to the cab and climbed in. He started the engine and raised the feederhouse so that he could open the rocktrap underneath. Once it was up, he killed the engine and made his way to the feederhouse, lowered the lock to protect him while he was underneath it, and climbed underneath so that he could open the rocktrap. The handle was stubborn and the first time he tried he lost his grip and ended up falling over. As he landed on the lift ram, he felt something poke him in his upper right arm.
"Ouch!" He yelled as he got himself off of the ram. He looked at the spot to find what had poked him. Sure enough, the hydraulic hose for that cylinder was badly weathered had braid wires sticking out. He rubbed the spot where he'd been poked and found that there was a hole in his jacket and that there was a small amount of oil soaked into the canvas. Wanting to take a closer look, he pulled his arm out of the jacket sleeve and, sure enough, there was a pinhole right in the same spot.
"Probably just got pricked by a wire." He thought to himself. He put his jacket back on and opened the rocktrap. Just as he'd imagined, the trap was full of rock and metal pieces, most of which were held in place by the rotting grain that was still in the trap. He cleared away the rocks and debris so he could get a better look at the cylinder. Instantly, he saw bent rasp bars and, as he rotated the cylinder, he found that most of them were bent, some in multiple places. "Dammit." He muttered to himself as he closed the trap. A complete rebuild of the separator was going to take a couple of months, easily. He still had plenty of time to do it, but he also knew that the only he was going to get the parts he needed was likely from a salvage yard.
He reached to try to pull himself out from under the feederhouse when a sharp pain in his shoulder made him reel back. "What the hell was that?" he thought to himself, "I didn't hit anything that hard." He tried again, this time using his left arm to pull himself out. As he stood up his text notification sounded. Checking his phone revealed that it was from Sarah, the neighbor girl.
"Hey what are you up to?"
"Just found out that my combine needs the separator rebuilt."
"Oh... Sounds like a big job."
"That's for sure. It'll be a couple months worth of a project."
"Ouch."
"Yeah."
"Well I was going to ask you for a favor, but now I don't want to bother you with it."
"Is it to plow your driveway for you?"
"How'd you know? lol"
"Because that's what I was about to do to my driveway. I can get yours once I'm done over here."
"Thanks Chase."
"No problem. I'll be over there in a bit."
"Okay."
Chase put his phone back in his pocket and walked back over to the 2755. He climbed into the cab, despite his shoulder acting up again, and sat down, closing the door behind him. He cranked the engine over and, after a shot of ether, the engine rattled to life. As the tractor warmed up, he got out and pushed on the sliding door, again he felt pain shoot through his shoulder. "I must have got pricked harder than I thought." He thought to himself as he slid the door open. He got back into the tractor, this time only using his left hand.
He backed the tractor out and set to work on clearing his driveway. His shoulder didn't seem to bother him when he was only shifting gears and working the loader. Within about forty five minutes he had completed his driveway and he headed across the road to plow Sarah's for her. Her driveway didn't take near as long and he was done within twenty minutes. As he piled the last bucket of snow out of the way, he noticed that she was standing outside on her porch with two mugs and held one of them up towards him. Assuming one of them was for him, he shut the tractor off and walked over to her.
"Here," she said as he approached, "Have some hot chocolate."
"Thanks." He replied as she handed him a mug. He held onto it allowing the heat to warm his hands.
He could tell that Sarah had noticed what he was doing. "How are you not wearing gloves?" She asked.
"It's not cold enough that I'm willing to give up my dexterity." Chase explained. He then raised the mug to his lips and took a drink of the hot chocolate. The hot liquid caused a warm sensation to spread through his body as he swallowed. As he lowered the mug he noticed that Sarah had a curious expression on her face. "What are you looking at?" He asked.
"Your hands are two different colors." She replied. Chase looked at his hands, sure enough, his left hand had turned red from the warmth of the mug, but his right hand was still pale white.
"Huh. Look at that." He thought out loud as he processed what he was looking at.
"Here, let me set your drink down." Sarah said. He handed the mug to her and she sat both of their drinks down on the glider that was on the porch next to them. "Hold your hands out like this please." She said, holding her hands out flat in front of her. Chase mimicked her gesture. "Did you hurt your hand or something today?" She asked after looking at his hands for a minute.
"No." He replied. "Why?"
"Your right hand looks swollen." She explained.