Near death. Again.

(Originally published 1/13/2006)

I was due for some bad luck.

My life has generally been an enemy to me, a nemisis I’m in constant battle with, fighting over love, luck, money, poorly timed acne breakouts, and male pattern baldness. However, I was having quite the good run of it last month. I had somehow managed to save some money and was able to take off of work for four weeks. I went home for the holidays, miraculously got along with my family, found some Diesel sneakers for under $70, and had an amazing time with old friends. I even met someone who I was able to entertain thoughts of actually dating. All of these things in addition to the fact that the new Madonna CD is simply brilliant made life seem pretty dang sweet.

But, alas, the proverbial poop was destined to hit the fan. I was sitting at my desk at work last week when I was suddenly hit with a vicious migraine. Yes, most people who suffer from migraines at my age are women and, yes, I do get the irony that I am merely a single chromosome away from actually being a woman. Anyway, the headache was hands-down the worst I’d ever had in my life. Factor in that I’ve been getting migraines for most of my 30, er, 22 years, and you’ll see that this headache was no ordinary headache!

After vomitting several times (I felt like Lindsey Lohan), I decided to leave work. Long story short, my day ended with me in an ambulance with 2 hot EMTs. Now, if you watch as much porn as I do then this sounds like a much better deal than it turned out to be. There was no awkward silence followed by one of them looking me in the eye and saying, "I know exactly what you need to feel better," followed by some "sexy" 1970’s disco music and some good old-fashioned man-love. Life had gone and gotten in a nice clean kick to my groin. I was actually and seriously having a stroke!

Although life has been consistent in its cruelty towards me, it has never fully restricted me from still living as an independently functioning person. It’s as if Life is my abusive beer-guzzling redneck husband and I am its black-eyed waitress wife in desperate need of having her roots done. It just likes to remind me every so often who’s in charge then lets me on my way, crippled by the fear that any day now he’s going to come home drunk again and knock another one of my teeth out. But in the meantime, I’m fine. I can still walk, speak, drink beer, and watch VH1, so my life was only slightly affected by the stroke. However, the reality that if there is a next time it could be much worse is looming in the background like a poorly placed velvet painting of Elvis.

So what does one do after cheating death and walking away without a scratch? What does one, specifically me, do after cheating death and walking away without a scratch for about the 17th time? I have not felt compelled to race off to church, or form a movement, or even vacuum my apartment for that matter. I don’t feel any more grateful for the life that I have than I did before the stroke, nor did I feel an obligation to express my appreciation for those around me when I realized what had happened.

I have done many things wrong in my life and will continue to do so (I bet you $50 I’m doing something wrong right now). However, I have only done one thing right in my life and to me it’s the only thing that needs to be done right. Having this happen to me and not really "learning" from it hasn’t been proof that I’m an empty, heartless, shell of a human. It has proved to me that I am living my life right. Because had that been it, me dead in the back of an ambulance with 2 hot strangers, I wouldn’t have taken a bit of remorse or regret with me. I look at the quality of people I have in my life, people that are much more kind, considerate, and caring than me. These are people that despite my being a Lucifer to their Gabriel have aligned themselves to me for life, whether as a friend, a son, or a brother. Knowing that no matter what happens to me that my legacy will be left in the hearts and memories of such great people is the only thing I’ll ever need to know.

So the next time I get lost and wind up in Cabrini Green or absent-mindedly plug in my electric razor while standing in the shower, I feel that my life has been fully appreciated and I can take my love for those people who made me appreciate it with me wherever my soul goes. Which I’m hoping to be some floating mall-like place where every other store is an Urban Outfitters, every meal is Taco Bell, and I’ll be the youngest and cutest boy at every party.