"Miracles do happen"

By NOREEN HYSLOP

Managing Editor

MOREHOUSE, Mo. -- John Launius has no memory of leaving his home in the early morning hours of Monday, Oct. 5, 2015. His first recollection of that day was climbing out of his crashed Cessna 150 in a wooded area just south of Dexter.

It's unclear exactly what time his Cessna 150 went down about one mile west of Dexter's Municipal Airport, but the FAA, in its investigation that followed the wreck, estimated it to be around 4 a.m.

It wasn't uncommon for Launius to take an early morning flight. He is typically an early riser and says it's not unusual for him to catch the sunrise while flying above Stoddard County, although he typically didn't take off quite as early as four in the morning.

"I remember coming to and realizing that I was hurt and that I needed to get help," the 25-year flying veteran recalls. "I actually got out of the plane once, and then crawled back in. It was still dark, but I could see that I was in the woods. I thought I'd get back in the plane and sleep until daylight, but then I realized that probably wasn't a good idea, and I got back out. I could see a nearby clearing and a light on in a house. I remember that there was a lot of blood, but I didn't know how badly I was hurt."

Mike Williams, who manages the airport and came to the aid of Launius in a number of ways following the crash, told the recovering pilot days after the wreck that massive amounts of blood in the cockpit indicated he was likely in the plane for some time before regaining consciousness.

Launius remembers approaching the door of the nearby house. It was nearly 6 a.m. He knocked, and a woman came to the door, obviously frightened by his appearance. Blood covered his face and clothes. His left eye was swollen shut, and he was becoming weak from the loss of blood.

Launius had sought help at the home of Pam Putney. While she didn't allow him in the house, she did immediately call authorities for help.

Emergency personnel arrived shortly thereafter and found the pilot lying on the carport of Putney's home, still conscious.

"When I realized later what I looked like coming up to that woman's door," Launius says, "I could never blame her for not letting me in. I would never have wanted my own wife to let someone inside our home who looked like I did. I consider myself blessed to have gone to her door. She's the one who called for help. She's part of the reason I'm still here."

The Cessna 150 that Launius owned was a 1967 model and had only a lap belt for the pilot, not a shoulder safety belt. His facial injuries were evidence of having been slammed into the cockpit's instruction panel.

"Mike told me the key to the plane that is inserted in the dash was actually bent. Looking back, I think it was the impact of my knee that bent it," Launius explains.

Launius asked to be taken to Missouri Delta Medical Center in Sikeston, since it was closer to his home and his daughter, Wendy Tidwell was employed there as a respiratory therapist.

Michi Launius, in the meantime, had been notified of her husband's wreck when a friend who is a deputy in Stoddard County paid her a visit at home. By then, it was approaching 6:30 a.m. She rushed to the hospital in Dexter and waited for him to arrive by ambulance, not knowing of his choice to be taken to Sikeston. In the meantime, her daughter arrived for her workday at Sikeston and saw that her father's name was on the list as an incoming patient from a plane wreck. She immediately called her mother who was still at the Dexter hospital.

By the time Michi arrived at the Sikeston hospital, it had been decided to move her husband to St. Francis Medical Center in Cape Girardeau, and so another 25-mile drive ensued.

"Wendy went with me, but I drove," Michi recalls. "I don't even remember the trip, but I made it to Cape before the ambulance did."

Doctors in the emergency room at St. Francis determined that Launius would need surgery to repair extensive facial injuries.

Ironically, a visiting neurosurgeon, Dr. Lawrence Daniels, happened to be at St. Francis Medical Center that October day. In a delicate and painstaking operation lasting several hours, it was Daniels who not only removed the shard of plexiglass imbedded in his skull from the plane's windshield, but then repaired the damages from the impact.

"I have several plates in my head now, and he had to reconstruct the orbit of my left eye," Launius explains. "I was told he virtually peeled my face down to do the repair and then lifted it back up and sewed me up."

A week following the surgery, Launius returned home. Today there is little evidence of his injuries. There is still occasional dizziness and some slight double vision, but both are expected to improve with time. While he credits a multitude of folks for his recovery, he's quick to note one in particular.

"Michi is my champion," he smiles. "She's been my champion for almost 37 years, and I could never have come this far without her."

The cause of the crash has yet to be determined, but Launius is fairly confident it was not due to pilot error, and he says he wouldn't hesitate to fly again.

He is often reminded of how "lucky" he was to survive the crash of his Cessna 150, but he's quick to note that luck had little to do with it.

"While I'm yet to understand the 'why,' I have no doubt as to 'Who' is the reason I'm here," he says. "You hear about miracles," Michi says, holding onto the arm of her husband. "I feel like that what we've experienced."

A number of circumstances play into that thinking, the couple agrees.

The plane crashed just a few hundred yards from a well-traveled two lane highway -- the trees likely cushioned the impact. A light left on at the Putney home guided John to safety. A renowned neurosurgeon happened to be on hand at the Cape Girardeau hospital to restore facial injuries that doctors later would tell him "should have been fatal."

Launius fully realizes that not many pilots walk away from a crash like his. At the thought, he smiles and says, "Apparently, God didn't get the memo."