So, here is the story I promised

I wrote last Friday that I would tell you more, and now I am so doing. Not that I like to ramble about personal health concerns but I felt some sort of explanation would be apt. So here is my bit of aptness.

We were away in Victoria for a day and I had a lovely day on Thursday, wandering around without much of a care in the world, aside from the one that convinces me with increasing frequency that we’re all going to hell in a handcart and there’s not much I can do about it.

Anyway, I awakened early on Friday in our hotel room, swung my feet over the edge of the bed and prepared to make morning coffee. Except my left hand was numb. Totally numb. Like a flipper on a dying fish it would only flop around. At first I thought I’d slept on it and I awaited the pins and needles that would indicate it was coming back to full circulation.

Except, that didn’t happen.

Ten minutes later it was just the same. I awakened Wendy. Her response was immediate. “We have to get you to a doctor.”

I didn’t argue. But I didn’t want a doctor in a different town. I wanted the familiar. So, we drove the 140 miles back to the Comox Valley and by 11 a.m. I was with my own sawbones.

By that time my hand had regained considerable strength. When we were still in Victoria Wendy had to help me dress. I had progressively regained gripping power, however.

Back to the doctor. I told him what had happened. “You have experienced a Transient Ischemic Attack,” he said. “Or, in layman’s terms, a mini-stroke.” I preferred the scientific name because it sounded less ominous; less frightening.

He was reassured, as was I, that the attack was extremely localized and confined to only my hand, not even my arm. That, he said, is a good indication.

What a TIA is is when a blood clot travels to a certain part of the brain and temporarily screws up the bit of the body that part of the brain governs, and then it moves on.

This can indicate a build-up of plaque in the blood vessels, and this is not a very good thing, obviously.

So, today, and for the next number of days I have to undergo a number of procedures to assess how I am doing in the old plaque department, in order to avoid another episode, or worse.

He told me not to panic and to continue life as ordinary, and to do what I do, work, have fun, and don’t alter anything other than grabbing rest when I can.

Tall order. Even if everything is AOK, this shit is traumatizing. One’s immediate thought is: “I’m going to die now.” Not so, but that is what it feels like at first.

Right now I am on blood-thinners, which is a pain mainly because I hate to take anything, even an aspirin for a headache. But, if that’s the way it has to be, so be it. I like my life and would like to hang around for a considerably longer time.

So, in a nutshell, there you have it.

RIP George Carlin

I would be remiss not to mention that the untimely death of George Carlin was entirely uncalled for. The wonderful, profane, and excruciatingly honest 'Hippy-Dippy Weatherman' was of infinitely more value to the sanity of the planet than any thousand politicians.

Rest in Peace, George, and don't let the fuckers drag you down.

You take me back to a time when you exposed all the cant and hypocristy in society. Your highly attuned bullshit detector smote them all.

Only problem is, guys like you are still needed, maybe even more than before.