A Stroke of Genius

There's a lot of words that are often overused in our lexicon, "genius" being just one of them. If you're smart or do things that others can't figure out how, people call you a genius. Hell, I've been called a genius for years simply because my livelihood is in IT, although technically my IQ did qualify for that distinction back in my college days. Customers that I've solved difficult business problems for, call me a genuis. IT professionals that I have taught or coached over the years call me a genius. Colleagues and peers that have gotten to know my Inuendo project consider it a work of genius. I appreciate that, but you're only as genius as your latest brainstorm. So whatever unfinished business remained when I left the office on Friday, June 15th would hopefully find it's inspiration and a solution the following week.

It was to be a busy evening. Stopping at the nursing home to feed my wife dinner first. She's been a quadriplegic since 2010 due to MS and leukemia, so for the last eight years, every weeknight dinner hour is spent with her, as well as the full fetch of Saturdays and Sundays from lunch right on through dinner (I even help with Bingo every Saturday and the old ladies love me for it). Naturally, the dinner trays were late arriving that evening and that set me back, so I was behind schedule getting out of there. Had to stop at Dollar General on the way home, then fuel up the car, then once home, start my laundry and start mowing the lawn. Since I was late, there would only be time to cut the back yard tonight, so I'd have to squeeze in the front yard the next morning before heading to the nursing home for lunch. I was down to just a small patch of uncut grass left, maybe less than fifty square feet as the evening sun was dipping below the tree horizon.

And then I turned to cut the next row. Almost lost my balance for some reason. My glasses went out of focus. Adjusting them didn't help. Staying on a straight line got more difficult. I pushed through those last few rows, then shut off the mower and walked it back to the shed. The walk was clumsy and full of double vision, and my legs felt like they were asleep. I figured I'd better get indoors and sit down in my easy chair for a few minutes before going downstairs to switch my laundry.

I thought I had maybe collected my wits about me after 15 minutes, but standing up made me very woozy. Perhaps it would be cooler downstairs and I'd feel a little better. The stair rails to the basement kept me from stumbling. I usually hang my dress shirts on a rack and later dry them separately. I took one from the washer...tried to put it over a hanger...and I couldn't. My hands couldn't do it. Stubbornly, I kept trying...I must have spent 10 or 15 more minutes before giving up. I speak to myself often when I'm alone in the house...and when I asked myself what the hell was wrong...none of the words came out right. They were jibberish. My thoughts were one thing...and my voice was...just random noise.

I stumbled back upstairs to my easy chair for another 15 minutes, but it was no better. Maybe I should lie down. I staggered to my feet but my legs were numb and weak. The wall in the hallway helped keep me upright on the way to the bedroom. When I sat on the bed, I couldn't feel my legs anymore but I could still move them slowly. I reached down but I couldn't even loosen the laces on my grassy sneakers. I collapsed onto my side with my feet still on the floor. I could comprehend that I was in trouble but couldn't do a damn thing about it. My voice was so effed up, I thought maybe I could try to text my youngest daughter...but I couldn't compose English words because my fingers couldn't zero in on the letters I wanted, no matter how many times I tried. All I had left was to try to call her with speed dial, even though my voice was useless.

Usually she works Friday nights, but it turns out, not tonight. Recognizing my number, she said “Hi Daddy”. All I could mumble was that I loved her...something I've told her since the day she was born. The rest came out scrambled and I was starting to drool. “Daddy, are you okay?”. I tried to say things but it was just unintelligible noise. I could hear her getting nervous as she tried to get me to communicate...and I know the sound of her tears. “Daddy, I'm leaving right now to come get you. Don't move”.

There was no way I wanted her to see me helpless in this twisted pretzel. I just flopped over and grabbed whatever I could to try to get to my feet and then reached for the hall guide rail that we installed many years ago when my wife was just a paraplegic and was still living at home. It somehow helped me pull myself back to the corner easy chair. A few minutes later, I heard a familiar voice. It was my daughter's boyfriend. “Hey, Mr. Burns! Don't try to get up. I called 911. They'll be here soon”. Flashing lights appeared in the driveway and soon there was another voice. This time it was a state trooper. He took one look at me and seemed to have a handle on the situation. Definitely not his first rodeo.

“Do you know where you are, Sir?” I mumbled out what I could of my address. “What time did you start feeling like this?”. I think I was able to convey about 8:30 as the time. It was at least 10:00 by now. “Can you try to reach your arms out in front of you like this?”. I was able to do it. He relayed something on his radio and then assured me “EMT is on their way, okay? You just take it nice and easy here”.

Within a few minutes, the ambulance arrived and my daughter was right behind them. They wasted no time getting me loaded into that thing...zoomed up the US-219 expressway and kept the siren on. It was real. The word “stroke” came up in the EMT's conversation. The clock was ticking and I had already let a lot of it tick off before realizing how much trouble I was in. I couldn't believe how many medical professionals were in the ER waiting for me. Everyone kept looking at the clock. It was tight. After an initial triage, they moved me to the ICU. I kept being asked the same questions and asked to do the same things. Sometime after midnight I was able to get about a half a sentence out at a time.

When it was all said and done, it turned out to be only four days in the hospital...with two CT scans, one MRI and one angiogram. There's more pictures of my brain in the digital world right now than even the most narcissistic social media junkie ever posted to Facebook. I was cleared to return to work in only four weeks. But there's one thing every specialist seemed to agree on – how fortunate I was that the blood vessel rupture in my brain happened where it did. Because an inch to the right...or an inch to the left...and I could have been the next Burns quadriplegic to take up residence at a nearby nursing home, if not worse.

And that gave me something I hadn't had in years. Perspective.

A genius should always have perspective. About his goals, his responsibilities, his successes, his failures, his limitations...and whether or not he should do things simply because he can. The reality is...I violated all those principles.

It wasn't my blood pressure or my diet. I had lost the excess weight years ago. I had given up coffee and soda pop in 2016 and most other forms of caffeine entirely. I had dramatically cut back on the sodium that same year and had added more fruit to my diet. The vitals ever since had impressed my doctor enough to stave off any discussions of BP meds.

It was...everything else. And it was squarely on me. No one to blame but myself. Some of it was selfless, but a lot more was selfish.

It started...seventeen or eighteen years ago. I was a computer programmer and a family man at the time. Both were full time jobs. My older two children were teenagers and the youngest was in grade school. My wife was a full time Mom and had her hands into everything. We were a traditional, suburban middle class family.

And then I decided I needed to raise my profile in the computing community I'd spent my entire adult life in, by getting involved in its media and public relations...and added that to my plate. And the following year when I decided I needed to enrich the brand recognition of my firm by promoting it around the country without being asked...and added that to my plate. And in 2005 when my wife was diagnosed with advanced multiple sclerosis and could no longer perform physical tasks around the house...and I added them to my plate. And in 2006 when I strove to achieve even greater distinction in my profession by designing unique new solutions and promoting them all over the country....and added that to my plate. And in 2010 when my wife was also struck with leukemia, meaning a trip after work to the cancer center every day and eventually to a nursing home...and added that to my plate. And that same year when I saw a business opportunity to become a hero by helping pull us out of the recession if I could ratchet up my commitment...and added that to my plate. And in 2012 when I was positive I could make my name internationally if I could get my database designs and technology (known as Inuendo) out into the open source world...and added that to my plate. And in the years following where the pressure was on from an IT industry that was getting younger while I was getting older, which meant more and more off-hours research....and added that to my plate. And in those same years when I sought out any opportunity to become the face of the franchise, or to be the answer man for the team...and added that to my plate. And all those years I tried everything from soup to nuts to earn acceptance into the inner circle of IBM professionals..and added that to my plate. And in 2018 when the last of my children had finally been able to escape the nest, leaving behind any of the little chores they used to do...and added them to my plate.

A genius...would have recognized this life as unsustainable and would have removed something from the plate to counter anything that was added. I just turned the mower to cut the next row of grass. And it stopped sustaining.

All those years I had hitched my wagon to cliches like “If you're going through hell, keep going”, or “Whatever it takes” or “If it's too tough for them, it's just right for us”. I did it because people needed me to...and because I expected me to.

Life is full of cliches until the moment you find yourself persistently drooling, lying half on the floor / half on the bed, and unable to compose a sentence.

“Why tell this story?”, people ask “It's nothing new. Thousands of Americans have strokes every year”, they say. Congratulations...they just answered their own question.

This is us. More specifically, IT folks in our 50's. Starting that gradual slide from the assets side of the ledger to the liabilities side. Feeling the pressure of not being able to compete with those half our age. Feeling the pressure of having to explore every new technology in the quest to stay relevant. Feeling the pressure of our 20-something children not being able to get their adult lives on firm financial ground. Always having to do more with less, and faster. Always trying to present ourselves as management material or good neighbors. Always trying to “Think like an owner”. Always being told by news and social media that we should be obsessed or outraged over anything anyone has ever said or done, regardless if it was true. All the voices telling us we need to keep reaching for the stars, otherwise we're a failure. And we just keep heaping it on our plate...one helping at a time. And nothing ever comes off.

Many find a way to survive it. If your spouse is healthy and carrying their part of the load, then your odds are better. If you split from your spouse or they pass away, your odds go down. If your spouse becomes your dependent, then it's a Kentucky Derby long shot at best.

My horse didn't come in. Maybe it did. Maybe my horse was the difference between being rolled out on that stretcher head first instead of feet first. Maybe my horse was the difference between having this happen on June 15th instead of three weeks earlier, when I was driving thousands of miles through states without cell coverage. All I know is, I'm done gambling. I'm done trying to be more than I really am. That will disappoint a lot of people who have gotten used to me in the roles I've played...at home, office, community, even on the Web.

Which is why I have to dial the clock back...and keep it there. Otherwise I will turn the mower to cut the next row of grass...and never make it back to the easy chair in my living room.

It's year 2000, maybe 2001. I am a computer programmer. It's what I signed up for when I was 21 years old. And I am a family man. It's what I signed up for when I was 23 years old. That's all there's room for...from here on in. Everything else will have to take a number. I'm sorry. Hopefully you'll still want to read my articles if I even decide to write them at all. I'm done reaching for the stars. They don't matter. That state trooper who was the first responder that night...he asked me to just reach out in front of me...that's all.

That's where the the people and things that mean the most to me are. And that's far enough.