There are wakeup calls and there are Wakeup Calls.
The former might be things like getting on the scales and realizing it’s time to lay off the fast food and desserts. Or checking your credit card balance and realizing it’s been way too long since you made a payment.
The latter, more serious wakeup calls are the kind I had recently. I was watching a movie with my son when my feet, lower legs and one of my hands and lower arms went numb.
Actually, that’s not quite accurate. It was sort of a cross between numbness and tingling. It was the oddest feeling – one I fervently hoped would go away quickly.
It didn’t. It lasted long enough that I considered going to the nearest emergency room. These things always happen late at night, of course.
The nearest E.R., fortunately, was only a few minutes away. The wait after arriving there, however, could be much longer.
“Let’s give it a while,” I said to my son. “Maybe it will go away in a few minutes.’
It didn’t.
I vaguely recalled that numbness could be a symptom of a stroke.
Google confirmed this. There are lots of other stroke symptoms, however, none of which were happening. That seemed to justify waiting. No point in rushing to the E.R. if it wasn’t serious.
Presently the numbness/tingling subsided. Altogether, it lasted about an hour and a half. There was no guarantee that it wouldn’t return, though, and it was concerning enough that I sent a MyChart message to my doctor.
It happened that my doctor was out of the office that week, but a nurse returned my message the next morning, saying that a triage nurse would be contacting me about my symptoms. Instead, a doctor at the same clinic contacted me and ordered a CT scan.
The scan didn’t find anything alarming, but a physician’s assistant followed up by ordering another test. We’re still waiting on that one, but so far so good. I’m still having occasional numbness and tingling, but no drooping face, arm weakness, slurred speech or other stroke symptoms. The jury’s still out on what actually is causing the symptoms, but at this point it appears that I dodged the stroke bullet.
This brings us back to the wakeup call.
When you experience something that you think could change your life for the worse, whether it be a stroke, a heart attack or an accident, it scares you. Frankly, it scares the hell out of you. All sorts of things go through your mind, none of them pleasant:
Am I going to be partially paralyzed?
Am I going to lose my memory?
Will I have trouble speaking?
Am I going to die?
When none of these things happen, when you you realize that you seem to be okay and that life will go on pretty much as it always has, two things happen.
First, you feel intensely aware of your mortality and incredibly fortunate that you’re still around and able to function. Life is a gift, one for which we should never stop being grateful.
I’ve been lucky. It recently occurred to me that I now have more friends who are dead than living. If you live long enough, that’s inevitable. Many of my absent friends were younger than I am, some considerably younger. To still be here and in relatively good health is something I’m thankful for every day – especially since the wakeup call.
Second, you want to make the most of the time you have, to try to be deserving of it. Realizing, not intellectually but in your gut, how quickly your life can change – or end – makes you want to live a better life, to try be a better person.
Saying that and doing it, of course, are two different things. But what better goal is there? Who knows when the next bullet might come along?
***
Boise lost a longstanding member of its musical community last week when Mike Wallace – singer, guitarist and colorful character – died of a heart condition.
Mike was a member of a number of groups through the years, most recently Gerry and the Dreambenders, of which he was a founding member. The name was patterned after the British group Gerry and the Pacemakers. There was no Gerry in the band, but that didn’t seem to bother him.
I’ll remember him for a number of things: his amazing
collection of guitars, his love of British rock and roll, his wry sense of humor and his way with words.
The Dreambenders virtually always dressed in suits for their gigs. One summer night they were playing on a parking lot at a drive-in restaurant when the temperature was near 100 degrees. The pavement was like a griddle.
“Mike,” I asked him, “why don’t you wear something cooler on nights when it’s so hot like this?”
I’ll never forget his answer:
“Because I don’t want us to look like just another bunch of guys in Hawaiian shirts playing Mustang Sally.”
In a few words, he described a thousand bands.
A good man, gone too soon. He’ll be missed.
Tim Woodward’s column appears every other Sunday in The Idaho Press and is posted on woodwardblog.com the following Mondays. Contact him at woodwardcoluimn@gmail.com.
Tim Woodward 