I was home alone, my wife out on a walk with the dogs at the park.
When suddenly, I could not see.
Now, I wasn’t stricken blind like Paul. I could see…sort of. But my eyesight was suddenly obscured with blind spots and auras. The world looked like a broken mirror. As I struggled to read WebMD (obviously, the first and most reliable course of action in any medical emergency), I realized just how severe the problem was. I could not make out more than fragments of words and I was beginning to be overtaken by a headache.
I called my brother, a nurse, who told me that I should immediately call 911. Now, I’ve never called 911 for myself, so this understandably made me more panicked.
The afternoon was filled with my first ambulance ride, my first CT scan, and the first time I have ever been scared that I was having a stroke. The episode lasted a couple of hours and then went away, as inexplicably as it had arrived.
The doctor had no answer, other than that I did not have a stroke. I chalk it up to stress, a “quasi-stroke.” In talking with others, I learned that I’m not the first person to experience something like this.
While being transported by ambulance and laying in my first ER bed, and contemplating the possibility that I might be having a catastrophic event happening to me, I thought about these few things: about life, about suffering and about what I think of God.