For as long as I can remember I’ve been one to play it safe.
Even as a kid, I was the naysayer or the one questioning whether something was a good idea.
As much as I hate to say it, I was “Chunk” from “The Goonies.”
But even as I begrudgingly took part in an activity, usually ending-up with me getting hurt, I never had a fear of death.
It is true, kids think they are invincible. But I am willing to take that assertion one-step further: Adults think they are invincible, too.
Just look act how people act; It’s the whole premise behind credit or working for that promotion or justifying an unenjoyable experience by thinking “There’s always tomorrow.”
I recently have had a few friends battle cancer and truly have to grapple with their own mortality. But even in talking with them, I still headed home every night expecting full well to wake-up the next day. Never once in my life had I pondered the idea that at some point, there won’t be a tomorrow.
Until Monday, that is.
It was a normal day, I had gone to work and was out playing tennis. While hitting around, I noticed that I was unable to see out of one eye. It was a constant starry blur, like I had looked into the sun for too long, that persisted for over an hour. I thought it was odd, but played through it. It wasn’t until later that I really got worried. While in the shower, I noticed that my left hand had gone numb and felt like it weighed a ton. As I went to rinse-off my head and face, I noticed that my lower lip had gone numb as well. I then thought to myself, “So, this is a heart attack.” After freaking-out for a few minutes I began to try to remedy my situation. After shaking my hands and flailing a bit, the numbness subsided, I dried-off and tried to forget the experience.
Did I go to the doctor, like any normal person would have? Nope.
Truth be told, I was scared and like most guys didn’t want to admit anything had gotten under my skin. I was also afraid to learn what might be wrong. It sounds stupid, but ignorance is bliss. Instead, I headed to my buddy’s for a BBQ and pushed the experience to the back of my mind.
Only after chatting with my boss the next day and his ordering me to get checked-out, did I get to the doctor’s office.
Monday night was spent trying to forget about the experience and Tuesday night was full of the possibilities of what caused it. My first thought was a heart attack or stroke, then the mind wandered to tumors or blood clots.
Needless to say, I was no longer invincible.
Wednesday morning I met with the doctor, who was not too good at hiding the “Oh crap!” in her voice and facial expression as I recounted Monday night. The next thing I knew the hospital was bumping people with appointments to get me in for scans and blood tests. Everything I saw was marked STAT. Which I think is a pretty big deal, but I am only basing that on the fact they yell it a lot on ‘ER.’
Five hours later, I left the hospital with a clean bill of health. (Knock on wood.)
I was relieved, but my sense of invincibility had been forever shaken. Now I am not comparing my scare to the cancer ordeals my friends recently endured, but I now have a better understanding of the loss of control, the uselessness you feel when your body decides to stop working right.
Things like life insurance and retirement plans now make a little more sense to me.
There isn’t always going to be a tomorrow.
There is truth to the old saying “There are only two certainties in life: Death and Taxes.”
Does that mean I am going to drive slower and live in a constant state of fear?
No way.
It does mean that I am no longer going to take for granted the precious little time we have on this planet. I have lived the past 29 years cautiously and I have many regrets as a result. I want to take an active stance towards life rather than a reactive one.
For example, I pondered heading back to work right after my doctor’s appointment. But given my new perspective, why rush back? I had been offered free tickets to a Mariner’s game that afternoon and really, which is more memorable? Sitting in a cube or enjoying a beer from seats so good that you could see each sunflower seed hit the dirt as the first basemen spits them out?
I chose the game.
Life is meant to be enjoyed. And just like a great desert, slow down and savor each bit of it.
I am not advocating quitting your job and travelling the world. I am just saying to take note of life’s many little pleasures: The first sip of coffee in the morning or the patch of blue sky amongst menacing grey clouds or the smell of the first rain as it hits a warm sidewalk. I counted myself blessed as I sat at the game sipping my beer in the sun, when just hours earlier I was in an MRI machine pondering what could be wrong with me and how much time I had left.
I got lucky. This was a false alarm. But that doesn’t mean I am coming away from it any less grateful for my health than my cancer-surviving friends. I just wanted to share the lesson learned, as I hope no more of my friends have to learn it the hard way…
3 comments:
Did I tell you I had a very similar circumstance recently. I had just finished smoking a cigarette while walking back to my apartment with Solo. My chest started hurting so bad that I actually had to stop and sit down. After a minute, I gathered myself and we walked the last block and the three flights of stairs to my house. I went and laid down and then a tingling and numbness started taking over my arm. I was scared.
Solo was in the other room playing video games at that point and I yelled at him to get on the internet and research heart attacks. He moaned "You're not having a heart attack" and kept playing his game. It subsided shortly but the fear and a slight pain seemed to last for a few days afterward. In fact, the next night I had an anxiety attack, which I had never had before.
Since then, nothing. But I didn't have any insurance at the time and couldn't do anything about it. I do feel like something happened although, like you, I think a doctor would give me a clean bill of health.
So just so you know you aren't alone...
We all know that you didn't "sip" your beer at the game. Not a manly way to have a beer. People around you would be aghast at the sight.
As one of your "cancer survival" friends all I can say is that you finally did the right thing. You had the docs gaze upon your body.
David says it like it might be for many of us. I once had what felt like an actual stick being broken in my chest 20 years ago.
Docs, after exam, told me not to become a cardiac cripple. Don't dwell on it, but be aware of your body. Well, with a body like that a little more awareness might be in order.
Yea, maybe sipping your beer is the right thing to do.
My own attitude is that if something like this ever happens again, run don't walk. Time is probably not your friend. Get it checked out ASAP.
DOC! Dude, it isn't hard to check your friggin heart health man! Since I know you value your online anonimity I won't say anything that fingers your identity...but we both know why YOU SPECIFICALY should know WTF is up with your heart. Go in and get it figured out man. You are paying for peace of mind. I know damn well that my job is huring me on a daily basis, but I can sleep at night because I have a fairly good idea what is up with my body. I know you have insurance now man, don't make me send GimpyTheWonder out there to whine at you until you go to a doctor! :)
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