Something happened weeks ago that I have not revealed. A great example of how life turns on itself and we never know what is going to happen.
My son, Jesse, was going in for shoulder surgery. I was taking him. In a moment’s notice, the tables reversed themselves. Neither of us slept Tuesday evening, and at 5 a.m. Wednesday I stood near the coffee machine and said: “I don’t feel well.”
Then I collapsed. No fanfare, no warning. With a ripped labrum in two places, Jesse caught me and pulled me, unconscious, from the kitchen to the living room, where he placed me in a cushioned chair. When I regained consciousness, he was on the phone with a 911 operator. The police were dispatched, as was an emergency ambulance.
“I’m not going to the hospital, Jesse,” said I.
“Oh yes you are, Mom. You fainted and you convulsed.”
“But I have to take you to the hospital.”
“I’ll get to the hospital, you have to get checked out.”
I was still in pajamas when the police arrived. I had not yet brushed my teeth. My face was devoid of color, and my speech was insanely slow (particularly for a New Yorker).
There is a moral to the story.
To be continued…