There Was A Time To Help Paul Schmidt, But Politics Got In The Way

Meg Kissinger: The farther north Verna Schmidt rode that sweltering July day, the more she worried about her son, Paul, back in Milwaukee in his second-story apartment with its sour-smelling carpet and grimy windows.

He'd been falling down and shaking more than usual in recent weeks. Between his diabetes, hypertension and schizophrenia, Paul, 42, was on at least 13 medications and some could be deadly in the heat — especially for a man who stood 6-feet-2 and weighed 265 pounds.

He could not feel the heat the way most people do. The medicine he took to stop his hallucinations interfered with his body's ability to sweat. His blood vessels would stay dilated. When that happens, pressure can drop in the heart and, like a motor low on oil, it can burn out and die.

Verna and her husband, Paul, repeatedly asked their son to come along for their family reunion weekend in the Upper Peninsula. But he refused, preferring to sit alone in his bedroom and listen to music. Verna had told her son — begged him, really — to turn on the air conditioner, to stop and take a cold shower every once in a while.

By 3 p.m. on July 5, 2012, it was a record 103 degrees. Radio newscasts reported cows collapsing in farm fields and chunks of highway concrete buckling.

Verna looked out the car window and saw ripples of heat waving at her from the pavement.