Hi, Folks -

I'm gonna go into all the details, in case they may prove helpful to someone, somewhere.

Background and context: My older brother and I have lived together in the house we grew up in, for the past 25 years. Everyone in our family smoked tobacco (American so-called cigarettes, primarily) except for Mom, who I think thought she inhaled but never truly did, so she quit one day without difficulty. :) I think Dad learned to smoke while in the Army, Kools at first, later Salems. At various times, as one advertising campaign or another was presented for consumers' consideration, packages of Kent, Viceroy, Winston, Marlboro, Marlboro Light, Erik (little cigars), Virginia Slims, Silva Thins, Nat Shermans, Dunhill, Benson & Hedges, Du Maurier, American Spirit, and more, might be in evidence in our house or cars.

In 2006, according to what he has notated on the kitchen calendar, my brother had a stroke, affecting his left side primarily and fortunately leaving his language abilities intact. He and I both tend to avoid doctors, or, more accurately, "the mainstream medical world". My brother did not see a doctor about the stroke, but on advice of a healer/seer friend we immediately shifted our dietary routines from "normal" to "as organic or 'natural'" items as we could find. Both of us consequently began losing weight almost immediately, as our bodies took the opportunity to release toxins stored in fat, etc. My brother proceeded to attempt to 'rehab' himself from the effects of the stroke. Eventually he gave up that effort, leaving him with a left arm and leg that couldn't be nonchalantly relied upon to perform whatever tasks were set before them. Overall, he did okay but has been essentially housebound, having forayed out on a few occasions (driver's license renewal, etc.) with help from his son.

Skipping some details: Lately my brother had been in bed a lot, enough so that he'd lost an unknown amount of muscle mass. Note that both of us for at least 25 years have worked nights and slept days. It was about 7 a.m., at just the time I was heading to bed, when my brother fell, with a 'ka-whomp', and, yes, couldn't get up, at the start of the short hallway to the bathroom. We struggled for about 30 minutes but could not manage to get him up from the floor - we did manage to wriggle and waddle him to the bathroom, but even with fixtures he might grab hold to and pull himself up, it just wasn't happening. Finally he gave a heavy sigh and asked me to call the EMTs. I dialed 911 and they were soon enough on their way.

About 5 sturdy guys were soon in our house, staring at us and trying to figure how best to proceed. It would have been impossible or at least impractical to get a gurney into our house. Eventually they decided on a carry method involving two sheets with his body sort of safely swaddled in the sheets, carried almost like they had him in a hammock.

While they were standing around and coming to that course o action, one or more of them observed my huffing and puffing from the unexpected action and exertion at what was to have been the end of my day, and also took notice of my significantly swollen feet and ankles, a phenomenon that had begun I think during a hospital visit for a femur fracture that happened early in 2016, said they thought I should go to the hospital, too. Their immediate concern was that these two symptoms could indicate CHF (Congestive Heart Failure). I told them thanks but no thanks and they left, but voicing things like, "We just wanna make sure you're still around next Christmas." :)

After they left I called my healer/seer friend who had this to say: "Hmm ... I don't like how you're lookin', dude." After a few minutes' conversation in which that remained the bottom line, I called 911 again. At least some of those same guys showed up again and took me to the same hospital they'd just taken my brother to.

This is sort of a 'cliffhanger', I know, but there are times when real life is like that. :) I'll pick this up in part 2, soon, I hope.

--hobie