How Would I Know If You Died?

If I write about the junior college math professor who had a face that looked Droopy the cartoon dog and a skeletal body you might wonder if there is a story you missed.

I might give you a smile that my son says is terrifying because you can’t tell what I am about to do or not do.

Or I might ignore the question and move on to other topics because few people and few things are worth my time.

That is a lesson I learned long ago and something I have thought about since I wrote The Silence Is Deafening and Death Didn’t Seem Painful.

Been trying to figure out if it first sprang into my head in Some Stories End So Others Can Begin but maybe it doesn’t matter.

Because when the docs tell you that you almost died you go through a series of emotions, thoughts and ideas.

How Would I Know If You Died?

Someone once asked me how they would know if I died. I don’t remember the exact answer I gave but when I was sitting in that hospital room in Grapevine I thought about the two apartments I lived in here in Texas.

Thought about how each time I lived alone and wondered what would have happened had I still been living by myself.

That night the paramedics carted me out I didn’t make the call.

By the time I had pulled myself off of the floor and onto the toilet I had been bleeding out for an extended period of time.

I sat on the toilet with both arms extended outward because I couldn’t balance myself and needed to push against the shower and the vanity. I knew my phone was on three feet to my right but I remember worrying about falling off of the toilet and wasn’t sure if I could prevent knocking myself out.

But I also was certain I was going to somehow get to it because once I made the decision I wanted to live there wasn’t any question in my mind that I was going to.

It is part of why I was so feisty with the paramedics and the ER personnel. I was angry that I was in a position I hadn’t put myself in.

I was angry that if I was going to be part of the one percent I couldn’t have had that render as winning the lottery and not an unexpected complication from a surgery.

Who Needs To Know

There is a relatively small crowd of people who have spoken with me about that four day hospital adventure.

I am not sure how many people know about it or how many really need to know. Sometimes I think about it because I am still processing it.

That almost feels contradictory to say because among the few who know the one thing that has been repeated is how dismissive I am of it.

They ask if I understand how strange it sounds to shrug it off like it was nothing. I always tell them if we are having a conversation it confirms that I didn’t die.

It doesn’t mean I don’t know that it could have gone the other way because it absolutely could have.

Things could have gone more sideways than they did and you wouldn’t be reading these words and everything I hope to do, see and experience would be gone.

But why do I need to focus on what could have happened and not on what did happen.

I am very much alive and though there seem to be some medical issues that need attention I am not aware of anything that will prevent me from moving from my being almost middle aged into the next stage.

Ask me if I see this as a second chance and I might shrug my shoulders at you. I suppose you can say it is, but then again I don’t spend time thinking about it.

This wasn’t me beating a terminal illness, this was a fluke. This was the Angel Of Death trying to fill his quota and discovering that while he might be me one day that day is still not here.

Ask me if I believe that vision of my father and grandfathers was real and I’ll nod my head. They helped facilitate things, they helped provide some protection.

Doesn’t matter to me whether it was real or a hallucination from blood loss because I am here and that is enough for me.

The argument about whether there is life after death isn’t important. I’ll find out when I get there, what matters is what I choose to do with this life now.

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I am wrestling with whether I need to let some people know what happened. I am not sure if would bring me peace of mind to share the story or not.

I don’t know that I need to talk about something I haven’t hidden. I have blogged about it multiple times and will continue to do so until I feel no interest.

Some Stories End So Others Can Begin

What I know without question is I began a journey that I am still on just before Rosh Hashanah in 2024. There have been some very big changes and some not so big during that time and I am not done.

There are people who were part of my life that are no longer part and may never be again.

There are people I didn’t know who have joined my journey and been part of the adventures I have had since then.

This isn’t the best post I have written but nor is it the worst. It is 15 minutes of me thinking out loud and now I think I have said all I wish to say tonight.

So I’ll leave you with Bowie’s thoughts, “We can be heroes just for one day.” That might be the big lesson I took from the night I almost died and one that I am taking forward into the future.