As I woke this morning and went through the usual routine, you know, twitch toes, move feet, legs exhibiting no numbness and so on and so forth, I became aware of the lack of a most important component. My hand was not picking up any trace whatsoever of a heart beat!! Nothing!! How can this be? Did I peacefully ‘cross over’ through the night?
Did this possibility throw me into a panic? Strangely, no. Quite the reverse in fact. An amazing calm came over me as I contemplated what this may mean. Such as - Is this it then? Everything still there, except me, but I’m in it as an outsider? Am I now a fully joined up member of The Others? Do I need to report to someone? Are there forms to fill in? Is it too late to Google, ‘Why has my heart stopped?’ How will I get around? Can’t drive but, hay!! Can I fly? If not I guess I’ll just have to use public transport. Damn!!
It was about this time, while contemplating, with increasing excitement, what to do today, that I discovered my hand, through the mysteries of nocturnal gymnastics, rather than on my chest as I thought, was, in fact, half way up my back!
An hour later, with my hand crampily extricated and placed on my chest, I was rewarded with the reassuring feeling of a heart bumping along at a very reasonable 300 beats a minute. Say what? That’s what? Too fast? And?
So there you go; everything quickly back to normal but I’m still left wondering, with less excitement, what to do today. Oh, hang on, I've got that damn meeting to go to in Watford.
Quote; Douglas Adams.
“Arthur hoped and prayed that there wasn't an afterlife. Then he realised there was a contradiction there and merely hoped that there wasn't an afterlife.”
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