Just Steppin' Out for a Bit

I should probably start by saying I'm not taking another break from Vocal or anything. Sorry about that. This is about an experience I had about a year ago, and it's probably also apt to explain that it's more about not experiencing.

Confused yet? I don't blame you. I'm still a little befuddled, myself. So, I'll start at the beginning, which was on a day much like today, weather-wise, i.e. too damned hot.

As many of you already know from a few of my previous stories, Pam and I are working hard on getting ready to move from the great furnace of Texas and back to Wyoming. You may also already know that we're not setting any records in making that happen.

One of the delays was having a home we were renting sold out from under us. Now, to be fair, there were circumstances which really couldn't be helped. The home was rented to us by a good friend and our rent was extremely reasonable. Unfortunately, he fell victim to COVID and passed away.

His daughter inherited the property and she and her husband let us continue to rent it at the same rate until the time came that they needed to sell it. They lived about 340 miles away, and it was simply too hard to properly manage it from that distance. They knew us well, and were very apologetic, but we understood. On the bright side, they allowed us enough time to find another place.

We did finally find one that would allow us to keep our dogs and though the rent is somewhat higher, we've been in that house for just over a year. We're searching for the right place in Wyoming, and hoping it happens before the end of this year.

I'll keep the story of the actual move short. It involved a U-Haul truck and my brother's help, in the heat of the Amarillo summer. It was loaded to the brink of its weight limit, driven to the new house and unloaded.

My brother stayed to help unload it, then we gratefully sent him home, exhausted. The rental period was 8 hours, so to keep the low rate, Pam had followed me while I returned it. We drove back to the new house, dug out towels, dog food and dog dishes, cleaned up, had some fast food and slept, on mattresses stacked on the floor.

Unfortunately, the initial move hadn't included everything that was stored in the two outbuildings behind the old house. For us, that meant another trip to the old place, where Pam would sweep up the house while taking care of the dogs, and I would sort through what was in the old shed and garage. Sounds like a good plan, right?

We had downsized considerably when we'd moved in to it, coincidentally after having a house roughly twice the size sold out from under us.

We'd loved the other house, but that's another story altogether. The point is, there was a LOT of stuff that had been stored in those 2 buildings when we moved in. It had been stacked, some of it had been boxed, and all of it had been gathering dust for years.

Temperatures being what they were, I was soaked with sweat and all that dust made a nice coat of plaster on me. The dirtier I got, the hotter I got, and it turned into a vicious cycle. What's more, although the electricity was still on, the city had turned off the water meter for the transfer to the new place. At the time, they had manual shutoffs and no one available to come out and unlock it.

We always carry water in our vehicle for our girls, so they had enough, but I left that for them. I'd worked up a powerful thirst by the time I finished, and we were hungry, too.

Now, having lived in that neighborhood, we knew there was a cure for that. Chicken Express® was just a short drive away, with ice cold drinks, juicy chicken tenders, and gravy for dipping, hot and ready to go. They also had fried okra as a side, which is one of my favorite things. (When breaded and fried, it's not “slimy” as it's reputed to be. You can trust me on that one, or try it for yourself.)

So, since the electricity was on, we decided the girls would be more comfortable there with water and central air conditioning. We took them outside for a potty break and got them settled down in the house, assuring them we'd be right back. As is the case with such situations, they didn't believe us, but resigned themselves to it with heavy sighs and pitiful looks. We felt those looks burning on our backs as we closed the door.

I opened the passenger side door for Pam, (Yes, I'm old fashioned – because I'm old.) made sure it was securely shut, then walked around and got in behind the wheel. Fortunately, the air conditioning in the 4Runner worked well, too, but I was so hot and dehydrated that I barely noticed the difference. Pam leaned back and let the cool air work its magic.

We pulled into the drive through and ordered, with special emphasis on “super sizing” the drinks. The line was fairly short, which seemed to indicate that things were going well. On the “Please pull forward” command from the kind person inside, I did so, and after a reasonably short time in the queue, we arrived at the pickup window. The aroma of all the goodness inside wafted out to greet us as the window slid open.

I presented my card, the order was rung up and two gigantic drinks appeared, offered by a young woman who looked at me somewhat quizzically. I shrugged it off, accepted the drinks, handed Pam hers, and took a big swig of mine. That's when my brain began to leave the office.

I forgot about the food and pulled out, drove to the curb cut and pulled out partially into the lane. That's when Mr. Brain checked out completely.

I have very vague recollections of sitting there, hands on the wheel, and foot on the brake, halfway out of the parking lot. I remember voices, speaking not to me, but about me: “He's conscious, but he's not responding to anything.”

I'm relying on the flashes of what I think are memories of what happened next, supported by Pam's recollections, as I write this. I do know a couple of things: It's a very good thing that I “left” with my foot on the brake, and the guy behind the wheel must have been quite a sight for the people talking about him, encased in mud and apparently lost somewhere in another dimension.

I have no idea how long I was “out”, but Pam tells me it was a matter of minutes, rather than seconds. I don't remember coming around again, but I know I did, and knew I needed to go back for the food. I pulled out of the parking lot, drove across the street to a Walmart parking lot to turn around, drove back across the street, parked, and walked into the restaurant to get the food.

I don't recall how many people were in the place. I walked up to the counter, seemingly over the effects of the “incident” and told the somewhat horrified person That I'd forgotten our food. Sure enough, the order was there, bagged and under heat lamps. There were also a couple of people there that wanted to speak to me, as the counter person pointed out.

There were, indeed, two very confused ambulance attendants in the foyer. I can only assume the confusion was seeing me come in under my own power, and then walk up to speak to them. The conversation was short and a bit one-sided.

They wanted to “just check me out” and I vehemently refused, kindly assuring them that I was fine, it was just a bit of heat exhaustion and we needed to get back home to our dogs. One of them mentioned something about an “absence seizure”, to which I laughed and again politely refused to be examined. I do remember very well that I was thinking about the bill I'd receive for that exam. Given the practicality of that reasoning, I have to think that I was fully recovered. I also drove back to the house, without any further events, which would seem to support that assumption.

In all fairness, I should admit that I let Pam drive more often than not these days, although she scares me. Girls who learned to drive in Portland Oregon do so agressively.

Though I'm not entirely sure what occurred that day, I can say that my research verifies that it was not an absence seizure. Those are extremely rare in adults and last for only five to ten seconds, which Pam assures me was not the case.

I'll close by giving you my best guess as to the cause, even though I can't pin down the effect. I was tired, dehydrated, and under a fair amount of stress. I was, indeed, concerned about our dogs. And finally, it was too damned hot.

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