Yes, this is late. My apologies.
Another verse in Scripture that I want to rip out of the Bible:
“Pride cometh before a fall.”
– Proverbs 16:18
The problem, as I see it, is that I often don’t see pride “coming.” In fact, it almost seems like pride blinds me to my own pride.
As a result, I have no warning that trouble is brewing.
It’s like the 5 minute micro-storm we had this morning here in Tallahassee. It just came out of nowhere.
My wife is picking up sticks in the yard as I write, you’ll be glad to know.
But back to the story.
Everything was going along quite well in my life. In fact, better than it has in weeks. For proof I offer you this:
Yes, amazing news from PSA land. Look at the above line chart and be terrified with me as it relentlessly rises and rises of late.
Then, bam! Two weeks ago it goes into a free fall, dropping by almost a thousand points. My doctor calls it “remarkable.”
Feeling encouraged, I had been trying to convince my wife to see family and friends up in Georgia. Here was my chance to lay it on thick and make sure she took the trip.
“I’m feeling great! My PSA is way down! What could go wrong?”
Ed: I can’t think of a thing.
Betsy: she was still writing when she reached 100 on her list.
Silly woman. I could take care of myself and anything else that might need to be done while she was gone.
After all, I am a man.
She went with grave misgivings, insisting that she receive proof of life at least every hour.
Thank you to those who came and took pictures and held the clock up.
Now, I had another matter to attend to – I wanted to celebrate my good health news.
Two dear friends invited me to an amazing dinner of filet, green beans, sweet potatoes and Tiramisu for dessert.
Wine was also served, I believe.
The evening then ended with something I had never had before – a single malt Scotch.
My gosh, why doesn’t anyone ever tell me about this stuff?
If I wasn’t about to die soon, I would certainly become an alcoholic.
Somehow I was magically transported back to my house by two men and a woman named “Bubbles.” No, I did not let any of them in.
Just in case, don’t mention any of this to Betsy, please.
The next day was glorious. I began by looking for more Scotch to have for breakfast. Finding none, I came up with a plan (all on my own – with no adult supervision), to “accomplish something.”
My granddaughters had told me that they wanted to go swimming, so what a surprise it would be if I (again, all by myself, without adult supervision) got the pool ready for spring.
If you don’t have a pool (and yes, you can have mine, just pick it up anytime), this involves several days of cleaning, scrubbing, and doing something called “vacuuming to waste.”
You also must add 1000’s of gallons of chemicals to the water or it will burn your skin off when you jump in.
I did fine until the second day of cleaning.
Did you know your body has an on/off switch? Neither did I until mine flipped to “off.”
I didn’t even know that a body could survive in the “off” position.
Think about it, though. Ever eaten a boneless chicken? Well, they seem to do fine.
That is, of course, as long as they don’t have to go anywhere.
Which was exactly my problem.
I needed to get back into the house. Remember, my body had collapsed. I had thoughtfully not taken my phone out to the pool so that it would not get wet.
Did I pray? Certainly. I also thought there had to be some Scotch somewhere in the house that would be worth looking for a second time.
I would certainly need it if I made it that far.
As I assessed my situation, I realized there would be steps to climb no matter which way I went.
I viewed it as a personal challenge – that would surely kill me.
Damn – Betsy would come home to find me dead.
That kept me going.
Hyperventilating, with virtually no muscle control, I crawled inch by inch inside to my phone. Holding it was like being rescued from the North Sea.
So was your first call to 911, Ed?
No. You see we know most of our dear neighbors and an ambulance to our house might provoke a concerned call to Betsy – 300 miles away.
Yes, I needed medical help, but I needed it quietly – no lights and sirens, please.
So I canceled some times that I had scheduled with some of you (so very sorry), and called some of my medical friends.
I seem to attract them – they find it an oddity that I am still alive.
My gosh. What love! Doctor and nurses (if you didn’t get called, it’s because the list filled up so quickly) who went above and beyond to care for me.
You see, I had this problem. I was pretty much incapacitated. I couldn’t get up or down, and I could barely walk.
So people lifted me, they brought me food, they got me into bed and gave me drugs.
One day a nurse came by (with lunch) who also cleaned my bathroom, got me into bed, and then said she was going to do my dishes.
I told her they had already been done.
“By you?” she asked in disbelief.
“No way,” I replied. “By my cardiologist friend who came over yesterday. After eating ribs together, I fell asleep to the sound of the dishes being done.”
“Cardiologists don’t do dishes,” she says.
Funny. I’m pretty sure mine does.
The best part? No one called Betsy.
They kept me triaged so that she could enjoy her trip and then get home to kill me properly.
Okay, so I overreached.
I just so much wanted people to know that I could do something all by myself.
Apparently, I can’t.
Pride – then a fall.
Next time I’m just going to fall into the swimming pool.
P.S. I am alive and walking, albeit, slowly today. Tomorrow we will work on standing up and sitting down.
© Ed Hague. All rights reserved.