writing for self-discovery

You might ask why anyone would take that approach to life. The great German philosopher Frederick Nietzsche, (1844-1900) was not looked upon kindly by his peers in 1800s Germany. Don’t forget he’s also the one who proclaimed, “God is dead!” Not a popular position when taken literally. But Frederick did not mean it literally, whereas, the following quote, he did.

“The secret of the greatest fruitfulness and greatest enjoyment is to live dangerously.”

I relate absolutely and completely to that compelling directive. I don’t believe he was talking about recklessness or ignoring the generally accepted moral principles of the times. I think it was more about exploring one’s curiosity, stepping outside the familiar, and refusing to live small.

But after I survived a terrifying incident on the 19th of December, I am forced to revise my methods of dangerous living. At 1:00 p.m. on that day, I was shopping for Christmas gifts. Suddenly, I felt detached from my body, my legs went wobbly and I gripped the shopping cart as I stumbled toward the exit doors. Once outside I crouched, my back against the rough brick wall of the stores’ exterior and tried to calm my racing thoughts and wildly beating heart.

About 30 minutes prior to this event, I had eaten one of Culver’s decadent concrete mixers. It was the smallest size they sell but due to a very rigid system of fairness at this particular Culver’s, there were not one, but two heath bars crumbled into that already criminally sweet concoction. I wondered if somehow t was experiencing a massive sugar rush that would pass if I just gave it time.

It didn’t pass. When I got home, legs still refusing to walk in a balanced and mannerly way, I went straight to bed.

My daughter was concerned. Shouldn’t we take you to a doctor? I’m a person who has always been exceptionally healthy. Every wound or illness I’ve had previously, with time, healed on its own. I was counting on that. Then my oldest daughter called. When she heard my symptoms she said, Mom’s having a stroke. Get her to the ER, NOW!

A new adventure had commenced.

My blood pressure, when I was admitted and a literal army of medical professionals tore into me, was 256/109. I shouldn’t be alive.

But I am.

It has been 12 days since reality took that unforeseen turn. Other than a little numbness in my left hand with fingers that have an unwillingness to cooperate at times, and the tendency to tire quickly, I am back to normal.

And yet, I am not. I’ve been warned that for the next 30 days the likelihood of a second occurrence is high, and if that should happen, it would be worse. Images float through my mind of drool trickling from the corner of my mouth as I slump in a wheelchair, blanket tucked around me, in a convalescent home somewhere.

I feel soul-crushingly vulnerable along with many other emotions that defy expression. And yet, some corner of me recognizes this as an opportunity, a challenge to recreate myself and my life once again. The doctors tell me I will make a full recovery. It may take a few more weeks to regain sensation and dexterity in my left hand, but it will return. I may require more rest than I used to, but I’m well aware that I’ve been pushing my body to accomplish more than it should for years.

This was a wake up call. And knowing my stubborn self, nothing short of a major come-to-Jesus would have forced me into the necessary changes. So here I am, staring my 76th birthday in the face, and the full impact of 2026 dead ahead. Hmmmm… Maybe I shouldn’t have said it quite that way…

Happy New Year, friends! Eat healthy, drink in moderation, get out to stretch those legs daily, and keep your dear ones near.