painlessly. There is a sense of cold and stiffness and numbness, but no pain. By the
time flesh reaches a temperature of forty-five degrees, nerve synapses no longer fire. All feeling is gone. And then the tissue
freezes. Ice crystals form first between the cells. Because ice excludes salts, the remaining liquid between the cells becomes
increasingly salty. Osmosis draws water from within the cells toward the saltier fluid outside the cell walls. The cells become
dehydrated. Proteins begin to break down. Ice crystals eventually form inside the cells themselves. The sharp edges of the
ice crystals tear cell membranes. The flesh dies, starting with the skin. Usually the first skin to die is that of the fingers
or toes or ears or nose. Death moves into the muscles, the veins, the bones. Whole limbs, once lively, freeze solid and are
dead.
Etta seems to have crawled into the haystack headfirst. She prayed. She sang hymns. She listened to the wind blow. She shared
the haystack with mice. At one point, Etta felt the mice rustling through the stack and even nibbling at her wrists. She later
explained that this was comforting rather than terrifying. It told her that she was not alone in the world. Because she had
crawled in headfirst, her feet and legs were more exposed than her torso. They froze.
Saved from the haystack, Etta went through two rounds of amputations. The newspapers got wind of her, and for a short time
she became something of a hero. The
Omaha Bee
set up “The Shattuck Special Fund.”
“Miss Etta Shattuck,” a reporter wrote, “the young school teacher who lost both limbs from the exposure in the recent storm,
will be incapacitated for any service by which she may derive a living. It is desired that $6,000 be raised.” But infection
set in. She was nineteen years old when she was caught in the blizzard, and she died without seeing her twentieth birthday.
Never mistake frostbite for hypothermia. Frostbite freezes extremities, while hypothermia cools the body’s interior. Humans
function best at a core temperature of just under ninety-nine degrees. At windchills of minus forty degrees, with serviceable
clothing, it is reasonable to expect the core temperature to drop at something like one degree every thirty minutes. When
the core drops to ninety-five, significant symptoms appear. People shiver uncontrollably. They become argumentative. They
feel detached from their surroundings. As their minds slow, they become what winter travelers sometimes refer to as “cold
stupid.” They become sleepy.
A thirteen-year-old boy who survived the School Children’s Blizzard later recounted his experience. “I felt sleepy,” he said.
“I thought if I could only lie down just for a few minutes I would be all right. But I had heard the farmers telling stories
about lying down and never getting up again in snow storms. So I kept on, but I finally got to the point where I could hardly
lift my feet any more. I knew that I couldn’t stand it but a minute or two longer.”
At a core temperature of about ninety-three degrees, amnesia complicates things. Do we turn right or left? Did I put that
glove in my pocket? Have I been here before?
At ninety-one degrees, apathy settles in. Muscles by now are stiff and nonresponsive. If one continues moving at all, one
begins to stagger.
When the core temperature reaches ninety degrees, the body’s ability to fight the cold diminishes, and the core temperature
tumbles downward. The heart itself becomes sluggish. Blood thickens. Lactic and pyruvic acids build up in tissues, further
slowing the heartbeat.
It is possible to survive core temperatures as low as eighty-seven degrees, but only with rescue and rewarming. At this temperature,
self-rescue is almost impossible. Hallucinations are common. The mind imagines warm food and dry sleeping bags. The ears might
hear music. A survivor might report looking down from above on his own
Marina Dyachenko, Sergey Dyachenko