A Thing That Happened When I Was 11

When I was 11, I saw a six-year-old girl fall off of a dock.  The dock was too high for her to climb back out, so I ran over, laid down, reached down as far as I could, and I was just barely able to grab onto her hand.  I held on until some adults heard us yelling and came to help. 

Decades later, I was standing at a backyard party with Risa, who was just three months old, in my arms, near an inflatable wading pool that was less than a foot deep. 

In the noise and chaos of a dozen parents chatting and laughing while kids splashed around, I noticed one two year old who was on her hands and knees but couldn’t lift her head above water. Her mother was actually closer than I was, but before she could react I had already stepped into the pool with my shoes on and lifted her baby with my other arm. 

The Universe put me in the right place, at the right time. TWICE. This is why I became trained in CPR and Basic First Aid so I could be an ERT member where I work, just in case a THIRD situation arises...

Recently I faced a difficult dilemma. I occasionally chat with my 78-year-old neighbor, a retired internist, when we’re both out getting the mail at the same time or hauling garbage cans to the street. 

When he complained of vertigo I dragged his garbage cans up for him. He’s a brilliant man who has spent decades diagnosing illnesses, so I was concerned, but a week later I saw him, and he seemed to be getting better.

However, about a week after that, his condition seemed worse, and he had a bump on his head from a fall. Before Thanksgiving, I began texting or calling once a day to check on him, assuming he was seeing a doctor. I offered to bring him and his wife a plate of leftovers, but he politely declined.

When I didn’t hear back for 48 hours, I went over and knocked, and his wife (who uses a walker) came to the door, so I knew he was in bad shape. She let me in and I asked if he had seen a doctor. He had not, but he promised me he would. 

As he showed me to the door, he seemed to be in a lot of pain and was a tad delirious, so we had a frank conversation about what his ailment might be. He told me “I think I have metastatic prostate cancer, and I don’t want to die in a hospital. I’ve treated patients for this, and I know exactly what tests the doctor will run and what comes next, and I’d just rather die at home, holding my wife’s hand.”

I told him that I totally agreed with his desire to die at home, but I urged him to see a doctor anyway. He thanked me for my concern and closed the door.

As I walked back home, I wrestled with deciding what to do. My father and grandfather both had prostate cancer in their late 70’s, so this was a bit of a wake up call for me in my late 50's. My grandfather died from it, but my father lived to be 88, thanks to treatment.

Because I have volunteered on workplace ER teams for years, my training was kicking in, telling me to not walk away until convinced the situation was being handled by someone with superior training. 

Yet, at the same time, I wanted to respect his wishes, to not be intrusive.

My brilliant wife convinced me to call Kaiser and speak to an advice nurse, and when I did so, the nurse arranged for a doctor to call my neighbor in about an hour.  I walked back over to tell him, but when I arrived, the doctor was already on the phone with him and had convinced him to let me drive him to the hospital. 

So I did that and assured him that we would check on his wife regularly and told him it was his turn to let others take care of him for a change.

According to his doctor a few days later, he had become unable to think straight due to extreme dehydration and might not have survived the night. Turns out I did the right thing by calling for help, against his wishes. He had misdiagnosed himself.

I was right to be a bit pushy and to remain engaged until I was convinced he was receiving care from a medical professional.

When I went to see him later, he thanked me for saving his life. I told him that, had I been working late on that day, I probably would have been too distracted to go check on him.

The Universe sometimes seems to have plans that are bigger than us, ya know?

Progress

Looky! Looky! No progress on the script, but I created a meme:

OMG WTF HID (have I done!)

Decided today to try to write a sequel (of sorts) to The Princess Bride, after joking around about it on FB.  Found a free PDF of the script and ordered 2 (cheap!) DVDs online, so that I and possible co-writer(s) can begin by analyzing the original. 

I have no idea where this is going...  Due to not being able to buy the rights, we'll prolly end up crafting something different enough to not require rights, and yet similar enough to be successful.  What success will look like:  Maybe a six-figure sale to a prodco? 

First things first...