Abstract
One fateful morning in June 2010, I awoke extremely dizzy and quite disoriented. I was determined to go to work and teach my last class of summer school, but I got a bit of a late start—skipping my usual coffee, instead heading directly to the bathroom to take a quick shower before driving to campus. How little I suspected what was in store! While in the shower, I was puzzled why my shampoo bottle was so hard to squeeze. “They must be making this out of some new kind of plastic,” my confused brain mused, but some part of me undoubtedly knew something was amiss, as I stepped out of the shower very quickly. A moment later, I fell, completely paralyzed on my right side. Awareness dawned—could I be having a stroke? As I lay for hours on the cold bathroom floor, that question became a certainty. I watched my plans for my busy day evaporate. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but wait for my son to awaken so I could get help. In the meantime, I was free to ponder the richness of the myriad phases of my life. I was free to appreciate the sublime light playing off the bathroom tiles. I was free.
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