Today is the first day of the rest of your life, the old saying goes, and it's true for all of us, every day. But a year ago today really was the first day of my new life -- nothing much has been the same since; some in good ways, others not so great.
I don't remember a lot about the day, except that I was exceptionally tired at work. I had no energy, even to walk across the newsroom or sit upright at the news meetings. I kept feeling like I was about to fall asleep. Michelle reminds me that my plan for that night was to go play cards because she had a night meeting to attend. But her meeting got canceled, and I was beat so I decided to stay home too. Also, I had just taken over management of the P-I sports department as part of a reorganization, and I was going to edit the paper's star sports columnist, Art Thiel, for the first time. I could do that from home.
While I was waiting for Thiel to file, we had some dinner and put on the TV to watch "Lost," the stupid show I'd grown tired of but Michelle still liked. Pretty soon I told Michelle I felt sick to my stomach and, sure enough, I went into the bathroom and was sick.
That's all I remember. Michelle tells me that shortly after that, sitting back in the living room, I looked at her funny and then suddenly went into violent convulsions. She, being a lover of technology, dove across the room and caught my laptop just before it hit the floor. And then (simultaneously, she says, but I don't know) tried to help me.
I woke up several days later in the hospital. I had had a tonic-clonic seizure. It's been a blur of surgeries, doctor visits, procedures and pills since.
Not long ago we were watching a terrific HBO documentary, hosted by James Gandolfini, about soldiers who were seriously injured in Iraq. They called the day they escaped death their "alive day," and that became the title of the show. Michelle and I immediately made the connection to my seizure evening. And although "alive day" seems a bit dramatic and overstated for my deal, it definitely feels like an anniversary worth marking. So that's what we're thinking about today.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Spazziversary
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12 comments:
It has been a rough year, hope it is improving. love to you both.
I'm thinking about you too, Mark. It's a big day to remember, for sure. I've got my own recollections of a year ago. It was awful and scary and dramatic -- and very worthy of Alive Day designation.
Spazziversary - a day to remember.
Alive Day - a day to celebrate.
Sounds like more T-shirts for Kaye.
Yes, Mark, we all remember. And how! You've come a long way, Baby, and your strength and courage have been unbelievable!
I'm proud and full of love.
nice post baby. man, what a scary night that was.
And aren't we glad your meeting was cancelled that night, Michelle.
Speaking of strong people....
True, Mom. Michelle totally rocks.
And I shudder to think what would have happened if she'd gone to her meeting and I'd gone to the cardroom. I know those junkies: If I'd spazzed out in the middle the hand they'd have waited until all the betting was complete and the chips had been stacked, and then maybe somebody would have called a floor supervisor. Another 10-minute wait at that point followed by total indecision.
Chills are racing each other down my spine!
Let's not forget that Mich also deserves a Medal of Honor for that night.
I hope you and Michelle did something special tonight to celebrate that you can. I admire you both - and your extended "support team" too. I am thinking of you.
Thanks Ronelle, and everybody in the "support team." You're so right about that -- and Mom, you're right about Mich. And you too. And Freda, and Kaye and Val, and on an on.
Everyone's been amazing this past year.
Thank you, everyone.
we love you babe.
we do, freda
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