"This baby goes 102 to 52 in under 60!"
I wasn't feeling well; A wave of nausea and lightheadedness began to sweep over me. I was literally thinking about Wendy's story about how her friend had a heart attack, how sudden it was, and how their ER experience included a stent being put in while he watched on camera, conscious. Amazing. I was considering how hard it would be to have my own day sidelined in such a dramatic manner, let alone to die like that. All this was on my mind as I started to slur the words, "That would be an awful way to go" as I slumped back in my chair, and blacked out.
What I'm told was 3-5 minutes later, I regained consciousness. Apparently, my eyes were open the whole time. I had difficulty speaking as I came to. Jen was on the phone talking to 911. I was pale, dizzy, and sweating. I knew from experience, although limited, that I'd just passed out. It's happened before, maybe half a dozen times over the past 45 years. Shit, there's a March 2011 post on Facebook from one of the more recent.
Whatever the case, it was usually an issue of exhaustion and dehydration. I did not wanted or need medics, but they came anyway, and by then, I was able to meet them and thank them, though I called it a false alarm. I felt lousy for the rest of the evening, concealing my concerns for my well-being while paying close attention to my body for any indication that a proactive trip to Stanford would be wise. I came close, not for any significant reason beyond fear, uncertainty, and the belief that being safe is better than sorry.
It all worked out. I stayed home. I did take a minute to move my scheduled Primary Care appointment from a week out to this Monday morning. I also shared with Jen how grateful I am that our paths have come together as they have. Because one never knows—Nicole, Tom, Joe, Judd—to mention a few whose deaths I personally experienced, just collapsed and died without warning.
I know it might come as a shock, but death is a topic I touch on occasionally. Allegedly. It started well before Linda's diagnosis. The past four+ years substantially changed my perspectives. They've made me more grateful for what might be considered mundane to others. Living aggressively aware of an eventual ending, including one you might not see coming, can change the course of your actions, decisions, and choices.
I see no long road ahead. No certainty, no guarantees. I'm consumed with ideas, intentions and aspirations that have lingered a lifetime. Thoughts that have been clung to, abandoned, evolved or relegated to a level of subconscious limbo where they eventually become obstacles to navigate. Or for that matter, to trip over unexpectedly, oblivious to their presence, only to have the momentum and inertia transferred into the force of faceplanting directly into the ground.
When I reflect on the absence of a long road ahead, it's indicative of the intention to not live for a future I may never see at the expense of enjoying the time between now and then.
I am not "ready" to go yet. I have a few things I hope to accomplish while I can. Tonight was a welcome reminder to stay focused, awake, on point, and for fuck's sake, alive.