Pretty Sure I'm Dead

Chapter 3 - Exhibit 2: A STROKE OF BAD LUCK

At the age of twenty-two I had a stroke. This seems the most obvious possibility for my expiration, but since this expiration date is not stamped on my butt like it is on a package of hot dogs, I can't be sure.

I remember waking up in my BOQ (Bachelor Officer's Quarters) room at Mather AFB in Sacramento. I was stationed there for navigator training. It was the Saturday morning of our Squadron picnic. I did my morning exercises - a few stretches, sit-ups, and push-ups. I went over to adjust the volume on my stereo.  I must have my music. I leaned over, reached for the knob and suddenly felt the cold sharp teeth of a massive electric shock gnawing its way up my arm. 

Science projects in my youth and the practical jokes of my friend Roger had me very familiar with the feel of various types of electric shocks. I can unequivocally tell you the difference between AC and DC shocks. Touch an AC wire and a dog has bitten down hard on your finger and is shaking the hell out of it. Complete a DC circuit and cold hooks pierce and scrape along the nerves that are completing the circuit. Both types leave you shaken and really pissed at the joker who thought it would be funny to throw the switch while you were part of the circuit.

The stroke felt like a very severe DC shock extending from my finger up my arm and into my brain. The pain was jolting and yet, I was still able to wonder what had caused my stereo receiver to short and why did the shock feel more DC than AC. There should not have been any DC circuits in my receiver strong enough to deliver that much of a shock. The thought was brief and then I went blank.

The next thing I remember is looking down at my body which was lying on the floor next to my bed. My friend Doyle who had come to get me to go to the picnic was looking through my window and banging on it with his fist. Then all went blank again.

Don't know how they got in, but I was looking down once more and watching as Doyle and some other guys were clumsily wrestling with my limp body trying to get me up. I remember thinking, "leave me alone. I don't want to go to the picnic. I just want to sleep." Then all blank again.

Briefly, I'm back in my body lying on a gurney in the back of an ambulance speeding down a highway. Then blank again.

I'm in a hospital bed. A nurse is looking down at me. My brain is so fuzzy I can't even tell you if she is sexy. For a twenty-two-year-old male, that is a very fuzzy brain.

"You're awake?" she asked somewhat surprised.

I didn't answer. I wasn't sure I could. I wasn't really sure of the answer.

"Do you know where you are?" she asked with a concerned look.

I had no idea and was in no mood for twenty questions. I glared at her trying to focus.

She was following a set procedure with which I was going to become very familiar in the next few days.  I was continually going to be asked what day it was, where was I, and what was my social security number.  She continued, "Do you know what day it is?"

I had no idea how long I'd been unconscious, so I just returned her concerned look.

"What is your Social Security number?"

I thought, finally a question I can answer! Then I went blank.

Sometime later and still in the hospital bed. Another nurse or maybe the same one asked, "You're back with us?"

"I think so?" I muttered. My speech wasn't quite right.

"Do you know where you are?"