February 23, 2020

Passing Out

My father used to read to a blind man every week. Am not sure how long he did it for or when he started because he never talked about it. To be quite honest, I don’t even remember how long he had been doing it before I found out.

He believed strongly in charity and good deeds but went about it in a quiet and, dare I say, dignified way.

I am not my father.

If I read to a blind man every week, everyone would know about it. Tell me you got new reading glasses this week. ‘Hey, did I tell you about the blind man I read to every week?’ You are doing the MS walk this week. ‘Speaking of disabilities, did I tell you about the blind man I read to every week?’ I don’t think it makes me a bad person.

You are reading this story because I want to share it with you. It may be because I am insecure, needy, vain, egotistical or, more likely, a combination of all of the above plus a few more.

Again, I don't think that makes me a bad person.

It just is what it is.

The payoff of this story sounds very much like me blowing my own horn. I don’t deny it. That being said, I tell it quite often so read into it what you like. I have mentioned my friend Helen before. She comes to visit me in Florida every winter. We have been friends for a long time. She is a very good house guest. She does not overstay her welcome, does not need to be entertained, and is perfectly happy to swim laps and read her book by the pool. Her plane landed at 7:00 at West Palm Beach airport and we went straight to Atlantic Avenue in Delray Beach for dinner.

Downtown Delray is a very lively area of restaurants, shops and art galleries. It is often our default location for dinner because it offers a wide array of restaurants and lots of outdoor patios. We picked a Greek restaurant conveniently located next to the street valet. I like the restaurant because its avgolemono soup, with its lemon flavor, reminds me of a Syrian chicken soup my mother used to make.

It was a lovely dinner and we got caught up on our respective lives. I suspect, mostly me talking about me. Dinner—for me, the standard chicken souvlaki with rice and, maybe I was carb-loading for a marathon, potatoes, for Helen the baked branzino—was nearly over when I began to feel unwell. One minute fine, the next, I could not lift my head up from the table. I threw up and then passed out. I think I have the sequence right. Might have been the other way around. Next thing I knew I was in an ambulance on the way to emergency.

When the ambulance got to the hospital I threw up again and, truth be told, felt perfectly fine. I then texted my doctor and friend Geoff. He calls and I hand the phone to the attending doctor so they can consult. I am feeling fine but they are going to run a series of tests. And, oh by the way, can we have your credit card? Helen arrives and I tell her I feel terrible for ruining the first night of her holiday. She says, “Don't be silly. I stole some rubber gloves.” Okay, she doesn’t say the second part.

So I am in emergency waiting for them to run some tests when in walks my friend Ben. He is one of my oldest and dearest friends. As it happens, he was in South Florida that weekend and happened to be on the phone with my brother who told him I was in emergency.  The doctor says they are sending me for a CT Scan. Ben asks if he can go and observe. The doc says, “Not really.” Then Ben says, “I’m actually a neurosurgeon.” The doc says, “Ah, okay. Well then go ahead.”

They wheel me out and then I say to Helen and the doc:

“How many people come in with their own brain surgeon? When I say I’ve got a guy, I really have a guy.”

They didn’t find anything wrong with me. Although, I should probably mention they didn’t do a psych evaluation. Maybe food poisoning. Maybe a bad reaction with my blood pressure medicine.

They released me at around midnight. I felt fine. I even drove.

“Well,” I said to Helen, “that was quite the adventure.”

“Yes it was,” she said with a smile, “and it was also the only time you have ever let me pick up the check.”

I laughed. “Well, I was slightly incapacitated. Speaking of being incapacitated, did I ever tell you I read to a blind man every week?”

The end.