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Column: Tick-borne walk-up call has one man wishing for winter

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He was dying. He just knew it. Flat on his back on a bed in the intensive care unit in a hospital in Alexandria, Minn., hooked up to strange machines that measured just how fast, he kind of figured, his death was arriving.

His wife was there beside him. He kind of remembers telling her things like what to do about the farm, what needed doing, where things were, how to run the furnace, other odds and ends that seemed important (but in fact were not, all things considered).

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