surgery
n. 外科手术

swallow
v. to move your throat as if you were making food or drink go down the mouth because you are nervous

sweat
n. 汗水

thigh
n. the top part of the human leg between the knee and the hip

thrust
v. to hold out (hands) forcefully and suddenly

tissue
n. （动植物的）组织

toe
n. 脚趾

trail
n. a rough path across open country or through a forest

vase
n. a container used to put flowers in

Proper Names

David Fisher
戴维·菲希尔

Judy Ingalls
朱迪·英戈尔斯

Katie Kemble
凯蒂·肯布尔（女子名，Catherine 的爱称）

Ophir Wall
奥菲尔岩壁

Ric Hatch (Ric: short for Richard)
里克·哈奇

St. Mary's
圣玛丽医院

Telluride
a mining town

Text A

You Have to Get Me Out of Here

Lissa Halls Johnson

Read the text once for the main idea. Do not refer to the notes, dictionaries or the glossary yet.

The skies above the old Colorado mining town of Telluride were a bright Rocky Mountain blue that Saturday, May 27, 1989. It was a perfect day for rock climbers to test their skills.
Katie Kemble, a 34-year-old nurse and owner of a climbing school, had taken time off from her work to come here. Before she left, Katie and a half-dozen others had gotten together at her home, where she chatted with Ric Hatch, a 34-year-old salesman from California. Ric had heard Katie was a strong, disciplined climber, and he wanted to get to know her better. He wondered how a woman so small and soft-spoken could have such strength and endurance.
When they arrived in Telluride, the group discussed plans for a climb up Ophir Wall, a notoriously difficult cliff. Its sheer granite face juts up hundreds of feet, with only a few handholds to bear a climber's weight. This had always been the part of her vacation Katie loved best. At breakfast, Katie was paired with Ric. As they climbed up and down the wall that morning, she realized she was beginning to like her good-natured new friend.
By 2:30 that afternoon, Katie had finished climbing. Ric was on his last climb.
For a moment, Katie allowed the peace of the gorgeous spring day to embrace her. Sitting cross-legged and sheltered by the cliff, she was unaware of the 54-mph gusts sweeping over the top of the wall.
"Rock!" Ric's warning jerked her to attention. Rocks the size of garbage cans were crashing down the cliff and exploding around her.
Katie leaped to her feet. Then, with a loud crack, a rock bumped off Ophir's face and hit the back of Katie's left leg. The force of the blow threw her five-feet into the air.
Katie landed on sharp stones and felt burning pains in her left leg. Glancing down, she could see only two broken bones protruding below her left knee. Half her leg was missing!
Ric quickly came down while Katie looked around her for the rest of her leg. She found it lying close to the left side of her body. It was still attached to her knee by an inch-band of skin and muscle.
As a nurse, Katie knew she could bleed to death in a matter of minutes from an open leg artery. At her climbing school, Katie had taught the techniques of self-rescue. Through years of guiding difficult journeys, she had disciplined herself to control her emotions. "Face the fear, know what you have to do and do it" was her motto. Forcing pain off from her mind, Katie carefully lifted the almost severed leg and straightened it out. It felt odd-soft and warm, without the sensation of belonging to her body.
Ric was now beside her, a look of horror in his eyes.
"We need to stop the bleeding," she yelled.
Scrambling over the stones, Ric brought some nylon rope he used in climbing.
Pale-faced and trembling, Ric told her, "I'd better go get help."
"There's no time," she said firmly. "You have to get me out of here!"
At 160 pounds, Ric was strong. But could he carry her a half-mile on the steep, rough slope? Ric picked Katie up and carried her in his arms.
"Don't worry," he said. "I won't leave you. I'll see you through this all the way."
As Ric struggled down the trail, he tried to ignore the gruesome sight of Katie's leg, clutched in her left hand, only eight inches from his face. He swallowed hard and choked back the nausea.
Katie saw fear cross his face. "Ric, if I pass out, this is what you need to do." She gave him detailed instructions, hoping to distract him from thoughts of her dying in his arms.
They came to a slope, a steep quarter-mile field of rocks. Exhaustion was catching up with him. Sweat soaked his shirt and mixed with Katie's blood. His heart was racing, and breath came in painful gasps from the altitude. It was the hardest physical effort he had ever experienced. But when he thought of the woman in his arms, he was able to push himself harder.
It was about 3:30 by the time Ric staggered off the trail. Another climber who had witnessed the rock-slide was there with his truck, and Ric lifted Katie into the back. As they sped down the road, bumps sent lightning bolts of pain through Katie's body.
Katie was amazed that she hadn't passed out from the pain. But she knew why. I'm the only one with a medical background. I've got to stay conscious.
The nurse on duty at the Telluride Medical Center heard pounding on the back door and opened it to find two police officers and several volunteer emergency-medical technicians. They had met Katie's truck on the highway. The nurse helped Ric and the others put Katie on the table.
Some of the volunteers were newly trained and had never seen a worse injury. When Katie saw their ashen faces, she took command: "I'm a critical-care nurse. You're going to have to start an I.V. on me." She thrust out both arms, fists clenched to expose the veins, and gave them precise technical details of what they must do.
Katie's knowledge and presence of mind impressed Dr. Judy Ingalls. Katie needed advanced medical treatment, and soon, Dr. Ingalls's job was to stabilize her and get her to St. Mary's, one of the hospitals where Katie worked. The doctor put a cuff around the left thigh; if the arteries relaxed, Katie could die in minutes.
Within the hour, Katie was stabilized. As the initial shock began to wear off, the nerve endings became more sensitive, causing even greater pain.
At about 5 p.m. she was eased into a helicopter. As the helicopter arrived, Katie knew that her desperate need to direct her own rescue was over. She could now give herself to the care of those she knew and trusted.
The emergency-room staff prepared her for surgery. When Dr. David Fisher arrived, Katie looked him in the eye: "Can you save my leg?"
"No," he said.
But in surgery Dr. Fisher was surprised to find the lower leg warm. Both sections of leg had reparable arteries. "This is one lucky young lady," he told his staff. "She has a chance of using the leg again after all."
A few hours later Ric sat in recovery with Katie. He couldn't believe this frail, unconscious patient was the same woman who had directed her own rescue and emergency care.
When Katie awoke, hours later, she couldn't remember at first where she was and why. Then the pain struck, and the awful memory came back. With a shiver, she looked down at her toes. There were ten of them! "Look!" she said with delight. Now at least she had a fighting chance.
Katie never anticipated what a fight it would be. Twice daily they dipped her into a warm bath to cleanse the wound. Over the next few months at St. Mary's, she endured half a dozen operations to replace lost muscle and skin. A vein was taken from her right leg to fashion an artery for her left.
Katie would have to wear a metal frame resembling a leg brace. Each day she would have to turn screws to lengthen the brace by one millimeter, stretching the soft tissue, nerves, arteries, veins and skin as the bone grew.
There would be no guarantees, but she already had sensation in her leg and foot, and there was hope.
Determined to remain strong, Katie held in her emotions for three weeks after her accident. Then it hit her. She was stuck in a hospital bed, in pain and with an uncertain future. Suddenly, the tears came. She cried for all she'd lost, for the tragic turn her life had taken. But as the tears stopped, she admitted she had gained one inestimable thing — Ric.
Through it all, Ric, a man she hardly knew, had remained by her side. For the first four weeks of her four-month hospital stay, he had slept in a chair next to her bed. There was always one white rose in a vase on her desk. It reminded her of his words on the trail: "I'll see you through this all the way."
Katie knew that she had come to care for him as much as he obviously cared for her. And from that moment on, their relationship blossomed into love.