The coal miner

Abstract

The following operations of Consolidation Coal will work the afternoon shift: the Arkwright Mine, the Osage Mine, the Humphrey Mine, the Pursglove Mine, the Blacksville Number 2 Mine. The message came crackling over the radio in Morgantown. It was broadcast every day, as routine as the notification of school closings after a snowstorm. Three major disasters defined Gary Gallatin’s life: an explosion, a mine accident, and a stroke. I met him for the first time as he lay quietly on the hospital gurney with his head elevated, looking straight ahead. He was 59 years old. The room was still except for his stertorous breathing. His thickset gray hair was tousled, random clumps extending in all directions. His full, squared-off face showed no concern or emotion, almost to the point of seeming indifferent. He quietly watched his wife and daughter, Tammy, as they provided all the information about the last 18 hours while I examined him. The CT scan showed a large area of hypodensity in the pons that told a dire story. The devastating pontine abnormality was, however, much less remarkable than the large areas of missing brain in his frontal lobes. They had all the appearance of an extensive prefrontal lobotomy—an operation used a half century ago on schizophrenic and combative patients who had been hospitalized in the state mental hospital at nearby Weston. The large plate, visible on the CT scan and replacing the frontal bone, could only mean that there had been major trauma in the past. His old forehead scars and missing left eye gave further evidence of the prior injury. Gary grew up in a small southwestern Pennsylvania town. He was the oldest of six children; his father was a coal miner, and his mother worked in a shirt factory. His wife said friends described …