We are walking on the beach when the bottom drops out. It comes from out of nowhere. One minute I am walking along doing just fine,and the next, all my strength is gone. I feel like I’ve been unplugged. I am light headed. Christine immediately notices the change. She later tells me I suddenly went pale, started sweating, looked worried. I was worried. I was scared.
The very steep set of stairs leading off the beach is maybe 100 yards away. It feels like 100 miles away. I know I have to get out of here, get back to the car. I need to sit down. I’ll feel better, I think, if I can just sit down.
Walking slowly towards the foot of the stairs things aren’t getting easier. I want to lie down on the sand and sleep. I want to sleep in the worst way. I don’t lie down on the sand and go to sleep because I am suddenly afraid if I do I’ll never get up.
Christine gathers up our shoes at the foot of the stairs and we begin our ascent. As I start climbing the stairs I decide I will not stop climbing until I reach the top. I don’t care what happens. If I collapse, I collapse. I will not give in. I am not volunteering for whatever it is that is taking a run at me. Am I making the smartest decision? I didn’t care then and I don’t care now. It was the decision I wanted to make and so I made it.
I know I’ve been sick for a couple of weeks and my sleep has been sporadic and while I had been feeling better, it is clear I tried to do too much too soon. That’s the way it is sometimes. It’s kind of like when your eyes are bigger than your stomach. After not being well for awhile your mind is often ready to take on a level of activity before your body is.
In the car I am feeling safer. We get to a roadside food place. I eat and drink a bottle of juice and feel a little better.
Later I rest. Talk with Christine. Quietly thank God I am still alive. Remind myself (as if I need reminding) that the days are numbered for all of us. And, I remind myself once more that no matter what, I should remember to live. So should we all.