1910 Again

I have survived a rather disturbing encounter with high blood pressure. For me, Monday night was a trip back in time---to 1910.

It had been a stressful week leading up to Monday, but no more stressful than most. I was at the Coliseum, the college’s arena, where were hosting the United States Army Band for a free concert. I was set to introduce the band and then sit out in the audience to enjoy the show. But fate stepped in. I started to notice that my lips were nub…and then I noticed that I couldn’t complete a sentence to folks I was running into in the hallway. Next I looked at my script and noticed that I could read it. Not two words….nothing. I didn’t panic…thinking I was just low on blood sugar. I gulped a couple of punch drinks and handed my script to my development director and sat down to watch the concert. That’s when the bats became a factor.

Ironically, while I was having a rough time concentrating----there were other bats in the belfry. The Army Band played beautifully….and as they played…..dozens and dozens of bats started dropping from the ceiling and flapping around the heads of our fighting men and women. The college’s arena was becoming the Bat Cave. At intermission, I tried to make small talk with the assembled crowd….only I couldn’t make my mouth work.

“Gunga Galunga,” I said to one patron in a line reminiscent of the line delivered by the Dali Lama to Carl, the groundskeeper, in Caddy Shack. Kept waiting for that sugar to kick in. When the concert ended…..I wasn’t any better and my wife was noticing my continual reference to the words, “Gunga Galunga.” She rushed me to the hospital.

Once there, it was obvious that this wasn’t good. In fact, it was very bad. I could see the fear in the eyes of the two nurses attending to me. They couldn’t measure my blood pressure….it was beyond the ability for the equipment to measure. In fact my blood pressure had zoomed above 250.

“What year is it?” The attending doctor asked me.

“”1910,” I said. The look on my son Alex’s face told me that wasn’t the right answer.

It was decided I needed to be in Lubbock, or almost 100 miles away. It was one of the more interesting ambulance rides in my memory. Once in Lubbock, the strange answers continued. But also, the blood pressure started to slowly come down.

I was put in ICU and the tests began. You might not realize….they don’t have bathrooms there. And I believe that urination is a gravity-fed process. I never could understand how I was to complete my duty while strapped into bed and a bottle….shooting up hill. I think the omission is based because most folk in ICU don’t worry about gravity-fed peeing.

I was honored to have two members of my college cabinet visit me the night after the bat cave incident. I knew they were waiting for me back in the room after the latest test, so I decided to have some fun with them. As they rolled me in, I proceeded to call each of them the wrong name…and then I asked: “The chipmunk has teeth?” The look on their faces was priceless. I only let them smile stupidly for about a minute before I revealed that I was back to myself.

After 48 hours, the doctors let me leave but continue to have me under their care for a few weeks….disappointed that they could find something obviously wrong. Medication got changed….I was poked, probed, stuck and given highly overrated food, and not enough of it.

I’m told that the staff at the Coliseum has hired somebody who is willing to rid the building of the bat infestation. I, on the other hand, have cleared the bats from my own belfry.

And I can tell you immediately that it is 2009….not 1910.

“Gunga Galunga” to you.

I’m back.