Fridays are for the guys

Horns honking. Cars swerving. My body is betraying me and not doing what I think I’m asking it to do. It’s one o’clock on a Friday afternoon and I’m just trying to get home to my wife. If I had known where the day would take me, if I knew what was going to happen to me, I would have canceled golf with the guys. When I saw that it was gloomy this morning, I should have hit the snooze and rolled over in my king size bed and pulled her in a little closer for some lazy cuddling. But…Friday’s are golf days and I was looking forward to it.

I’m Jack. I’m 76 years young and my wife and I have retired at the beach in South Carolina. We’ve always dreamed of living at the beach. Not so far south where it’s smoldering, but south enough that there is no more snow. Shoveling snow sure gets old. We began to make a home down here about 5 years ago. I have made some good friends and my youngest son has since moved to the area with his lovely bride. Every Friday, the guys- Harold, Frank, Tom, and I go play golf. Sometimes there are a few more. But the four of us, we always go. My son comes along now sometimes too. That’s really nice. He wasn’t coming this time, he had friends in from out of town. The alarm went off this morning and I was eager to get moving! I was going to nail that hole in one on the 6th hole today, I just knew it! I came down the stairs and Diane, my wonderful wife of 53 years, was in the kitchen. It looks like she is making breakfast. The strong aroma of coffee called to me like a siren to a sailor. “Good morning, my love, what are you whipping us up for breakfast?” I asked. With the biggest, sly grin on her face, she replied, “I am having an omelet, and you’re having toast, it’s time for you to get going!” We laughed and drank our coffee together and then I headed out for what I expected to be a winning golf day for me…

I arrive at the golf course just as Harold is arriving as well. We are from the same city up north and it’s great to have him down here with me. He moved down here first, but we all know that it was my idea! “Hey man!” I call out. “Are you ready to finally get beat by yours truly?! Today is my day, I can just feel it!” We both laughed as we join the rest of our party in the lobby. “Hey, Bobby!” I greet the concierge, it’s the same young man every Friday. Ever-so-polite, even though I know that’s part of his job, it’s very refreshing to see him welcoming us. He gives us the typical rundown, warns us of some possible showers, hands over the cart key and tells us to have a good time. As we are headed out of the lobby towards the green, I am more eager than usual. Ready to play. Full of anticipation.

The course looks beautiful today. You can tell they have just done some maintenance. They’re preparing for a busy season. The smell of freshly mowed grass fills the air. We are one of the first groups of the day, possibly the only group of the day. We start playing and everything is going great. We are all playing reasonably well. Everyone is in a joyful mood. “Life is good at the beach.” I can’t help but to say it out loud, even though I mean to say it to myself. Oh, here we go! This here’s the 6th hole. The last few times I’ve gotten a birdie at this one. I know that’s still a good shot, but I want that hole in one! Wow, I feel woozy all of the sudden. Maybe I should drink some water. Is that a headache coming on? How majorly inconvenient. Ok, focus, Jack. I take my shot. It looks good. Oh…will it be…dern! So close. Maybe next time. I know it will at least be 2 under par at this point. Dang, my head. I should go to the gift shop and get some aspirin. Frank looks at me and asks if I’m feeling ok. I tell him that I think I need a Tylenol or something. He has ibuprofen in his jacket pocket. Perfect. “thanks, man, this should surely help.” Tom chimes in, “we’ll never hear the end of it. Jack here didn’t get that hole in one because of a debilitating headache!” we all laugh. It’s really not funny though. Funny feeling maybe but not funny ha-ha. We continue on. By the time we reach the 10th hole, I have to admit to my friends that something just does not seem right. “Ok, Jack, let me take you home,” says Harold. I insist that they finish their game and I will drive myself home. It’s really not even that far. I must have looked rough or walked away funny because all three of my companions abandoned their game and followed me to my car. “Guys, really, it’s just a headache. I’ll drive on home and if it gets any worse Diane is there and we can go see the Dr.” I climbed in my RAV, buckled my seat belt, and started the trek home. Things really progressed here. My head is pounding. I can’t see clearly. My arms are not doing what I am certain I am telling them to do. My body is betraying me before my eyes. If I could just get home. Something is not right, but I just have to get to Diane. This sense of urgency that I am feeling cannot be good for my blood pressure. Crap. Did I just run a stop sign? Or was that a red light? Why am I not able to register the things that I am seeing and react to them accordingly? Why are my friends following me? I’m thinking all of these things and then my phone rings. Ben! My son, Ben. The guys must’ve called him. I answer. “Pull over, Dad!” comes screaming through the phone. “What do you mean pull over? I’m on my way home,” I exclaim. “Dad, I know you want to go home. Please, pull over. I am right across from you at the light. I will take you home to Mom. Just, please, dad, pull over.” “Ok, son, I will.” I get in the car with Ben. “Why wouldn’t you let Harold drive you? Why didn’t you call someone? Are you even ok?” It feels like he’s screaming but I know he’s just worried. What did my friends tell him? Do I look that awful? Oh my head! Next thing I know, Ben is pulling into the driveway of my home. He’s asking me all these questions about how I’m feeling. Everything is running together. “Dad, I think you’re having a stroke. Let’s go to the ER.” My wife doesn’t think we should wait a second longer, she calls an ambulance. I am secretly relieved. Someone please just tell me what’s going on. The ambulance arrives and though I do not lose consciousness, everything goes to black.

I wake up in the hospital. I can hear the heart rate monitor. My family is all sitting in the room. The guys are out in the hall, I am told they have been here the whole time. My wife realizes that I am awake and runs off to get the doctor. The doctor comes in. “Glad to see you awake!” “Thanks, doc. So, give it to me honest,” I respond. My doctor takes a deep breath in, seemingly prepared to say a lot, and says to me,“You’ve had a brain aneurysm, Mr. Sellers. That headache you were experiencing was the pressure the aneurysm was putting on your brain and my best educated guess is that when it started to burst, is when your symptoms started to develop more seriously. There is a silver lining here and that is that you are responding nicely to the medicine we gave you in hopes of stopping or at least slowing the bleeding up there.” I’m shocked. The only thing I know of aneurysms is that people die from them. “Am I going to live?” I ask, only partially wanting to know the answer. “It’s really about 50/50 right now, Jack. I am hopeful.” The good doctor says. “Things are looking great. We do have some other options if the medication doesn’t do what we are hoping. Surgery is also an option, but I would like to keep that as a last resort. The surgery really would be my last shot at saving your life.”

All of my family is here or in the way. I have found some acceptance in the situation. Me and God are on good terms. I reflect quietly on what a great life I have lived. Of course, I want to live, to continue participating in life with my friends and family. I am not quite ready to go. I’m lying here in this hospital room and now I’m wondering how many other people felt like it couldn’t possibly be their time yet? How many others received that fatal 50/50 diagnosis? I woke up this morning full of life, full of hope and love and excitement. It was just another Friday. Fridays are for the guys. And golf. And apparently brain aneurysms too.