Rep's Corner

As the leaves' colors turn and summer wains, I have begun the annual ritual of taking off the screens and replacing them with storm windows. That also serves as a signal that it is time to call my heating contractor to have my furnace cleaned and checked.

In 1996, my family and I had a scare when our furnace malfunctioned and our home was filled with deadly carbon monoxide. I wrote about this experience in hopes that others could learn from my near tragic misfortune. Because many of you will be firing up your furnaces soon, if not already, I have requested that the Mirror reprint the article from 1996.


Thanksgiving is that time of year when we stop and pause for a moment to reflect on God's abundant blessings. The year of 1996 is one which our family will long remember. The health of the Olman family over the past year has been remarkably good, everyone is enjoying reasonably success in school or business, and I was fortunate enough to have been elected to serve a second term in the Ohio House of Representatives. Joyce and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary on November 27.

With these and the many other blessings we have received, 1996 has been a pretty good year.

The biggest blessing of all, however, occurred on the unusually normal night of November 25. Joyce was working with her cheerleaders at the high school; I was in Napoleon delivering a speech, and our son Trey was heavily engrossed in a typical night's homework.

The only unusual thing about the evening was the heavy blanket of snow being deposited on northwest Ohio. As the evening progressed, I arrived home about 9:30 p.m., in time to kiss my wife goodnight, catch up on my son's day at school and sit down with a microwave dinner and Monday Night football.

I soon dozed off on the couch, which is a typical ritual at our house. At approximately 1:30 a.m., I was awakened by a sharp piercing sound from one of the multitude of alarms mounted
throughout the house. The signal only lasted about five seconds, but long enough that Joyce and I met in the hallway, staggered by our few hours of slumber.

Neither one of us could tell which alarm had sounded, so I proceeded to take a tour of our home to find the cause. After about 15 minutes of searching, it became abundantly clear that it was probably a low battery, since I could not see or smell anything wrong.

Confident there was no problem, Joyce and I prepared to return to our interrupted sleep. Suddenly, there was another five-second shrill. This time we narrowed it down to one of two alarms in our upstairs hallway. Joyce and I were thinking about as quickly as molasses in December, but did manage to determine that, since we could not smell or see any smoke, it must have been the carbon monoxide detector.

Another quick check of the furnace did not yield any answers, as all seemed to be operating normally. I then called the Maumee policy dispatcher and asked if someone from the fire department could come and check our house.

Within just a very few minutes, we were greeted by our long-time friend, Fire Chief Don McConnaughy. I was reminded that the last time I saw Don in our home in the middle of the night was 15 years ago when he was one of the paramedics responding to Joyce having a kidney stone attack.

Don was gracious as usual, the traditional greeting dropped quickly as he pulled out a hand-held apparatus with blinking digital numbers. Don began to search intently about the house, but entered each room with caution as if he suspected some invisible monster to leap from the next dark corner.

Within a matter of minutes, Don looked at me and immediately his eyes told me something was wrong. "My God," he said. "Your house is filled with carbon monoxide. Get your family out of here immediately. You are going to the hospital."

At St. Luke's Hospital, Joyce, Trey and I lay on the sterile hospital gurneys with oxygen masks covering our mouths. Soon the oxygen did its job, the carbon monoxide in our bodies was reduced to safe range, and we were released.

The night would be spent at the local Days Inn until we could get a technician out the next day to determine what had gone wrong. Along the way, we again ran into Chief McConnaughy, who had by then aided my mother-in-law in checking into her temporary quarters. She had been unaffected by the gas. Don looked me sternly in the eye and for the first time I had a real sense of the peril to which my family had just been exposed. "Lynn", he said, "had the carbon monoxide detector not gone off and had you not left your home, you and your family would have been dead by morning."

I suddenly realized how fine the line is between being a tragic statistic fallen prey to a dirty furnace and just another adventure to share with friends. One thing is obvious to me - God decided it was not our time and our work is not done. We are not dwelling on our near brush with death, but rather are looking for the lessons to be learned.

First, I am now signing on as an unofficial spokesperson for carbon monoxide detectors. This $25 piece of plastic and computer chips was responsible for saving my family's life. Needless to say, the next day, I was at The Anderson's buying two more for our house, as were my brothers and sisters, parents, and any client or friend who fell within earshot of my voice.

You may never need this device, but if you do there are no second chances with this silent killer. Give your family and friends the gift of love, a gift of life-a carbon monoxide detector.

Yes, my family has one more thing for which to be thankful. Life seemed a little more precious this Thanksgiving. We set another place at our traditional dinner table. That place was for that small plastic box-our carbon monoxide detector. He did not break bread with us, but he was our hero, nonetheless.

Finally, there is one more important lesson to be learned. Don't take the day for granted, for you never know when that very typical day will turn into your last. Most of all, be sure to thank God, friends and family each and every day, not just on Thanksgiving. (Reprint from Maumee Mirror, December, 1996)


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