Tag: Believe It or Not This Really Happened to Me

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Believe It or Not, This Really Happened to Me, by Ricky

In the spring of 1969, I was
in the Air Force and stationed at Hurlburt Field near Ft. Walton Beach in the
western panhandle of Florida.  One day I
was alone driving north along a road which was basically the top of a mile long
levy which was dividing a swamp to the west from farm land on the east.  The road/levy was approximately 10-feet above
the level of the swamp to my right.
I saw, about ½ mile ahead of
me and traveling in the same direction, two boys riding on one bicycle rather
unsteadily.  I was driving at the speed
limit of 55mph.  In the distance way
beyond the boys, I could see a school bus driving south coming towards us.
Suddenly, I heard a voice in
my head telling me to “slow down”.  I was
surprised because I know what my thoughts sound like and this “voice” was not
mine.  When I did not respond as directed
due to my surprise, the “voice” spoke again saying for forcibly, “Slow down!
Those boys are going to fall in front of you.” 
I immediately took my foot off the gas pedal and the car began to slow.
Sure enough, when I was
about 40 yards away, the bicycle hit some kind of object near the edge of the
road and the boys fell off the bike right in front of me.  As luck would have it, the school bus also
arrived going the speed limit.  I was now
going slowly enough that I was able to stop in plenty of time.  If I had not received the warning or heeded
it, I would have had three choices.  Run
over the fallen boys, swerve to the left and hit the school bus head on, or
swerve to the right going off the levy into the swamp.
I got out and made sure the
boys were okay.  I then had one boy ride
in my car while the other one rode his bicycle to the end of the levy where the
boys would turn onto a side street to their destination.  I followed behind the bicycle so no other car
would hit him, if he fell again.  At the
end of the levy, both boys thanked me and rode off to their destination.
I have not heard any “voices”
since that time on the levy.
© 6 October 2014
About the Author  
 I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale
and then in Redondo Beach.  Just prior to
turning 8 years old in 1956, I was sent to live with my grandparents on their
farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents
divorced.
When united with my mother and stepfather two years later
in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California,
graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966.  After three tours of duty with the Air Force,
I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until
her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11-2001
terrorist attack.
I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010.   I find writing these memories to be
therapeutic.
My story blog is, TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com.
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Believe It or Not, This Really Happened to Me by Phillip Hoyle

Several years ago I developed an unusual medical condition that stumped my doctor and both interested and frightened me. One morning I discovered a growth on the index finger of my left hand. It first appeared to be a long splinter the length of the finger next to the thumb. Unlike a splinter, it seemed articulated and bent when my finger bent. I was fascinated but also knew I needed to show it to my doctor. I couldn’t get an appointment that first day but set one for the next. Overnight the splinter-like protrusion expanded a little bit beyond the finger, and looked like a kind of lobe, like a smaller finger attached to the index finger.

Many things went through my mind on the bus ride to Dr. Pierce’s office. Was this some kind of exotic infection from Africa? I had any number of African friends. Was it from the high Himalayas, the original home of my friend Ming? Or China where my friends Rong and Fong originated? Or Korea from which Chong immigrated? I decided not to worry and just kept my hand on my lap covered by my other rather normal appearing right hand. But I did worry. Would I ever again play the piano? Could one even play with six fingers? Would I have to give up my massage practice? I’d already cancelled half a dozen massages. Would I still be able to shuffle a deck of cards?

At the doctor’s office I watched as my physician examined the oddity. He said it was not a splinter but rather a buildup of fluid and proposed to extract some of it for further examination. Out came the needle. Into the finger it reached. Out came dark red blood. Doctor looked concerned and marked the sample for the lab to examine STAT. He asked me to wait and showed me to an empty room. I wondered what he’d find. I had wanted to excise the dark line that invited ideas of demon possession, an idea I had long excised from my mind. Couldn’t I simply cut it off like I once did a mole? I examined myself. I thought about the many projects I was planning. I made a list of friends to call, especially those I had lost track of over the previous couple of years. I checked my phone messages, listening to all those I’d not heard, erasing many, many voice and text messages, and otherwise filled my time with distracting tasks. After about an hour, a nurse brought me a bottle of water and some magazines apologizing for the long inconvenience. My one hour wait turned into two hours. Finally Dr. Pierce returned. He told me I would have to enter the hospital. My heart rate rose. “We need to keep watch over this.” He frowned; I wondered why. “The CDC wants you isolated,” he explained for their computers had matched the sample with something dreadful. My fears shook me.

I entered a world of sterile isolation. There all was bed rest, confusion, and fear. The staff members were nice to me yet cautious and also afraid. I was also amazed for when in my long life had anything I had ever done become of national concern? Finally I awoke from the dream that morning, December 29, 2010.

Morning Pages entry from 12-29-2010

Woke up from a dream in which I discovered a growth on my index finger. It looked like a long splinter the length of the finger but protruded a little bit beyond in a separate lobe as if the whole thing were growing alongside my finger. I used it as an illustration that, like this splinter, most folk in the room (were they UUs?) would like to excise the mythological elements from their minds. I wondered if it really was a splinter and thought I’d like to find out. The stuff that came out was liquid like pussy blood. The CDC said to contain the liquid and get it to a hospital for examination. The medics were to isolate me because their computers had matched it with something dreadful. Sterile concerns all along towards the end of the dream. Keep samples sterile, etc. keep the fluid isolated. Isolate me, too.

© Denver 2014

About the Author 



Phillip Hoyle lives in Denver and spends his time writing, painting, and socializing. In general he keeps busy with groups of writers and artists. Following thirty-two years in church work and fifteen in a therapeutic massage practice, he now focuses on creating beauty. He volunteers at The Center leading the SAGE program “Telling Your Story.”

He also blogs at artandmorebyphilhoyle.blogspot.com

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Believe It or Not, This Really Happened to Me by Lewis

In 1954, when I was eight years old, my family embarked upon the most ambitious vacation of my childhood. All four of us piled into my granddad’s 1952 Packard and headed northeast to Washington, DC; Lynn, Massachusetts; New London, Connecticut; and New York City. The sights and delights of that trip will perhaps be the subject of another day but today I begin my story with what happened a few days after we arrived back home that summer.

What began as a persistent itch at the back of my scalp that kept spreading turned out to be ringworm. I had not even heard of the condition and as soon as I did I had to wonder–as did my family and doctors–how I ever came to be exposed to a condition caused by a fungus that is usually spread through skin-to-skin contact with an infected animal, often a cat (we had none), or another human (I was an only child and was not a wrestler). I remember thinking that I might have “self-infected” in a sense by putting the end of the vacuum cleaner nozzle against my cheek but was told by the doctor that that was unlikely.
The early 1950’s were the days when medical science was just discovering the many ways in which x-rays might be used therapeutically. I went in for a few x-ray treatments on my scalp, which I learned much later had increased my risk of having cancer of the thyroid years down the road. (It was x-ray treatments for an ear infection which eventually took the life of Roger Ebert from thyroid cancer.)
When the x-rays didn’t do the job, we moved into the next “therapy”–an ointment which had to be applied directly to the skin. This meant that I had to sit in front of my mother for five or so minutes every day while she pulled out every hair from a 2″ diameter circle of my scalp with a pair of tweezers. Until water boarding was invented, this was the most effective method of extracting information from an enemy. It was a lot to ask of any mother, even mine. But we made it through.
The worst part of this entire ordeal was yet to come, however. That fall, I entered the Third Grade at Morgan Elementary School in Hutchinson, Kansas. Because the salve used to treat the ringworm could dry out if unprotected, I was required to wear a scalp cap made from one of my mother’s old nylon stockings over the top of my head to school. To make matters worse, I learned that the x-rays had killed the hair follicles, which meant that it would never grow back. Now I suspect that most–if not all–of us can recall the social pressures that every Third Grade student is under to “fit in”. I already was trying to cope with eyes that did not coordinate and now I felt that I must look odd both coming and going. It had been, up until then, the worst year of my short life and, looking back, I would have to say, it still is. The only good thing is that, after 60 years, the hair on the rest of my scalp has also decided to bail out, making the look more uniform.
© October 6, 2014

About the Author

I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I wasn’t getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both fortuitous and smooth. Soon after, I retired and we moved to Denver, my husband’s home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group was there to light the way.