"Buck up, Wayne," encouraged Don, a roofing contracting company owner.
"But I'm freezing!" replied Wayne, a roofing worker.
"It's just cold weather," Don said. "You should be used to it—you're from Chicago."
"Yeah, I know, but this is Alaska," Wayne reasoned. "I'm used to working in cold temperatures, but the wind chill must be 20 below."
"Wind chills are for wimps, Wayne," Don replied. "Only folks in the lower 48 talk about wind chills. Alaskans tough it out. But I promise I'll stop the crew's work if it gets any colder. I just want to get all the materials installed on this area today."
"OK," Wayne said. "But I just need to sit down for a few minutes."
"Fine," Don answered. "Just get back to work after your break. I'll check on your progress in a while."
Two hours later, Don checked on Wayne's work. Wayne was curled up by a parapet wall. When Don tried to talk to Wayne, Wayne appeared intoxicated; he couldn't respond coherently. Don figured Wayne must be quite inebriated to sleep in such a cold temperature. Don asked other crew members whether they had seen Wayne drinking. The workers said they had not, but some workers thought Wayne could have snuck away for a few drinks without them noticing.
"Oh well," Don thought. "I can't do anything about it now. Wayne looks bundled, so I'll let him sleep it off. When he comes to the office this afternoon, I'll tell him I never want to see him on one of my jobs again."
Don returned to the job site at 2 p.m. and sent the crew home because the temperatures weren't improving and wind was increasing. Working conditions were becoming dangerously cold.
Don then woke Wayne and was surprised to find him acting just as drunk as several hours earlier. Wayne's slurred speech was even thicker than before, and Wayne acted more dazed. Don helped Wayne down the ladder and put him in the truck to return to the office.
Although Wayne was not shivering as much as he had been on the roof, he still was acting strangely. By the time they returned to the office, Wayne didn't look better—his skin resembled wax. Don started to worry Wayne was sick, not drunk.
Don decided to call his sister, an emergency room nurse, instead of calling 911. Don described how Wayne was acting, and she instructed Don to feel Wayne's skin on his back, which Don said was ice cold.
Don's sister said Wayne probably was suffering from hypothermia and he should take Wayne to a hospital immediately. Don bundled Wayne with coats and blankets and drove him to the hospital.
Hospital personnel whisked away Wayne to raise his body temperature. Wayne's family came to the hospital, and Don was mortified to tell Wayne's wife and children Wayne probably had been suffering for five hours before getting to the hospital.
What Don didn't know—until Wayne's wife told him—is that Wayne is diabetic and diabetics typically are more susceptible to hypothermia. Wayne usually forgot to wear his medical-alert bracelet, so his wife was not surprised Don was unaware of the condition.
A few hours later, doctors came to the waiting room and announced the good news—Wayne's body temperature had risen and though he had some frostbite, he would be OK. The doctors said Wayne had a fairly severe case of hypothermia and additional exposure to the cold temperatures probably would have killed him.
Although Wayne was lucky to be alive, the hypothermia had caused several of his toes and fingers to be amputated. Wayne and his family decided not to risk further exposure and moved to Texas where Wayne was hired to work in a roofing company's sales department.
Don's company was visited by the Occupational Safety and Health Administration and fined according to the organization's General Duty Clause.
Don became a safety advocate. He promoted safety on and off roofs and learned all he could about hypothermia and related illnesses. Living in Alaska, where people often work in cold weather, Don thought all construction company employees should be aware of cold-weather-related illnesses and able to identify them. Don didn't want his experience to happen to another company owner.
Amy Staska is NRCA's director of educational programs.
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