With a tropical storm approaching the Panhandle and two more in the Atlantic, I was reflecting on two times in hurricanes I seriously thought i was going to die.
Opal: I didn’t evacuate and when it got up to Cat 5 (it downsized later), I figured I was doomed. Really.
Dennis in 2005. I’d been dogsitting for a friend, and decided to lounge outside on the patio … at which point the bar that presses the sliding door shut when it’s closed fell down, slamming it shut and holding it there. And this was one of the very rare times I didn’t have my keys when I went out (it’s automatic with me).
No keys, no cellphone, no way to get back inside (unless I smashed a window, which didn’t seem like a very good idea with a hurricane coming, and would have been awkward to explain) and a hurricane on the way. Did not look good. Fortunately, the neighbor managed to jimmy the bar open with a coat hangar, which doesn’t say much for my friend’s security but I wasn’t complaining.
The thing is … you know all those stories where someone survives certain death and it hits them almost like a drug? They’re happier, more alive, more thrilled by and appreciative of everything?
Didn’t get any of that. An incredible sense of relief, but no rush, no excitement, the simple daily pleasures did not seem more wonderful. And that goes for the few times I’ve narrowly missed a nasty car accident
On the plus side, if I’d ever been thinking of playing Russian roulette for the rush, reflecting on these experiences pretty much kills the impulse.
