Years ago, when Mom was still with us, she, Collin and I would walk to Hampton Village, a shopping area about a mile away. We didn't know it at the time, but Mom was suffering from congestive heart failure and only months away from having a life-altering stroke.
very fast. She always slowed us down. We were always stopping, waiting
for her to catch up. And we gave her a bad time about it.
"Need a push?"
"If you were any slower, you'd be standing still!"
"There's a bunch of angry snails behind you, honking and swearing!"
move any faster. Her heart wasn't pumping well enough to keep the
blood--and therefore oxygen--circulating through her body. But until
the first stroke, we didn't know that.
Okay, that's not entirely true.
had mentioned some other symptoms she'd been having to our family
doctor, who responded, "She's having strokes." What he was referring to
is actually called a TIA (transient ischemic attack), a prelude to the
main event stroke--the warning shot fired across the bow, so to speak.
And now it's my turn.
we're out walking, I'm the one slowing Collin down. He's always
stopping to wait for me, letting me know it's time for a geezer scooter.
I'm the one who feels like I have concrete blocks chained to my ankles.
Yep, Mom, I hope you can see this. Payback really is a bitch.
I really wish those snails would shut up....