I opened my eyes to find myself surrounded by strange men who were … in my face. I am protective of my personal space, and these guys were invading mine bigtime.
As a native of Latin America, where muggings and kidnappings are all too common, I came to the obvious conclusion: I was being held captive, possibly for ransom.
I was too groggy to put up a fight as I was poked and prodded, and finally strapped down and lifted into a small, box-like truck that roared away.
Great, just great. There go all my retirement savings.
The truth of my situation was less melodramatic: I had mysteriously lost consciousness as I scraped freshly fallen snow from a sidewalk ringing my St. Paul house on Monday morning. A neighbor happened to spot me, limp and slack-jawed, and pounded on my front door for my wife to call an ambulance.
This was all highly irregular because I am not the fainting type. But, that morning, I blacked out twice in quick succession – and I vividly recall the onset of each fainting spell.
The first time, my world abruptly spun and I found myself prostrate, my skull shoved against a metal fence adjacent to my walk. I’d have a bad bruise on the top of my head to show off for this mishap.
In the split second my horizon tipped and my world darkened, I cried out in anguish – I don’t recall whether I did so out loud, or just in my head.
“Huh,” I told myself as I shakily stood and brushed snow from my jacket and jeans, “Now that was weird.”
Convincing myself I had somehow slipped and lost my footing, nothing more, I foolishly resumed my light shoveling.
Again, my world unexpectedly, violently rotated.
Again, I screamed, and this time went dark for good.
I happened to be standing at the top of a long concrete stairway leading from the street to my front porch up on a hill, and I am lucky I did not fall down the stairs and fracture something. My neighbor said she found me on the grass next to the stairs, my forearms vaguely flopping.
My wife later told me my face and lips were an alarming shade of white, my mouth gaping and dripping saliva. Somehow, my petite partner got me into a sitting position and wrapped me in a thick blanket as she and my neighbor waited for the paramedics.
I came to as these guys clustered around me, peppering me with queries and pissing me off.
Fitfully, as the ambulance fought through traffic chaos caused by the icy snowfall, and the paramedics kept asking me questions, I began piecing together what had happened.
The rest of this story is anticlimactic. I spent the night in the hospital as a precaution, undergoing a battery of tests that came up negative.
The cause of my fainting remains a mystery. Dehydration could well have triggered the blackouts – what doctors call “syncope,” a word I had never heard before.
I appear to be fine now.
The best part of all this was how friends, neighbors and co-workers stepped up to offer assistance throughout my ordeal and its aftermath. I am also grateful to Regions Hospital’s doctors and nurses who made me feel like I was staying in a fine hotel.
It’s nice to know I’ll have all of this support if and when it’s really needed.
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