After the Fall
Let me begin today’s blog with a short summary of an event that took place on January 25, 2025.
That Friday afternoon around 4:30 I took a walk the length of our hilly road and back. After heading up the driveway, I went into the open garage, filled a container with birdseed and emptied it in the birdfeeders along the meditation path upslope from the back of the house.
Ordinarily I would have retraced my steps back through the garage, gone up three steps into the kitchen, and pushed the automatic garage door button once inside. But as I wrote last week, that’s not what happened. Two weeks later, the mysterious out of body experience is still under investigation.
I have no memory of having fallen, or of getting up, or of going back into the house. I didn’t close the garage door that night as is my usual routine. Sometime after the fall when I was inside the house I put my hand on the back of my head and discovered blood, but its source was a mystery. Our cat Peekay had dinner on his mind at the moment and was no help in revealing what might have happened.
Because I was alone, only the birds and squirrels in the tall cedars and pines above the driveway were witness to my fall. It was in fact not until the following morning that I discovered the empty birdseed container and a small hair comb on the driveway next to a pool of dried blood where my head hit the concrete pavement.
Since then I’ve wondered how I got back on my feet without a single broken bone—only three skinned knuckles on my right hand, one bruised elbow, and two lacerations on the back of my head. It was I believe a “wing and a prayer” soft landing assisted by a guardian angel. That angel was my father Bill Riggs—a B-29 pilot in the Pacific during W. W. II—who softened the blow to my head that afternoon by reaching his beautiful strong hand down from the heavens when I needed his help navigating my crash landing and then helping me back onto my feet.
Over the past two weeks, I’ve had an EKG and learned that my pulse rate per minute is at the slow end of the 60-100 good range. So like some athletes, I tend to be border line Bradycardic, with my pulse occasionally registering in the 50 pulses per minute range. To keep tabs on my pulse, I now have a finger pulse Oximeter that gives me my oxygen saturation level (usually in the mid 90s) and my pulse rate. I keep a log in which I record my readings 3-4 times a day.
In addition, I am now wearing a Xio monitor over my heart that is recording every pulse per minute for 14 days. It also has a logbook in which I record any irregular heart experiences such as dizziness, fainting, chest pain, etc. by pushing a button on the patch that is recorded by sensors against my skin. After 14 days, the patch is removed and mailed along with the logbook back to Xio for analysis. The findings will be shared with my local cardiologist group and doctor.
I’ve also had a Carotid ultrasound imaging test and an echocardiogram. The results could provide information about the health of these arteries and the risk of stroke. Like pieces of a puzzle, the series of tests I’ve had since my unwitnessed fall could help me discover why I passed out on Jan. 25th.
As for my head trauma from the fall, I’ve had a CT scan and am happy to report that it was clear.
In times of stress and uncertainty, I turn to simple nourishing soups for comfort. This week I made a pot of roasted cauliflower garlic soup that literally required three ingredients—a large head of cauliflower, a whole head of garlic, and 6 cups of water. Toss the cauliflower florets with ¼ cup of olive oil and roast on a sheet pan for 30-35 minutes. In the same pan roast the head of garlic after cutting off the top, drizzle it with olive oil and a pinch of salt and enclose in foil. Once softened, simmer in 6 cups of water for 10 minutes. When cool, blend with an emulsifier. (Save a cup of the florets and leaves as a topping.)
Reading has also been a balm this week. Pico Iyer’s recent book Aflame: Learning from Silence was a perfect companion during this time when I’m searching for answers to what and why events have been happening seemingly out of the blue in my own life. Then my friend Matthew Goodman’s latest book Paris Undercover arrived after four days of pouring rain. That night, a tree fell across the road, knocking out our power for an entire day.
After lighting our gas range with a match early the following morning, I made coffee, tucked under a wool lap blanket, and began reading Paris Undercover by flashlight. Soon, I hope to have more to share regarding my recent drama, and I will introduce you to the story of how my friendship with Matthew began. Stay tuned readers. Life is indeed a drama.
