When I got home from work, my wife feared I had suffered a stroke. I was jumbling my words and showing other signs of incoherence. It was nothing, I assured her. I was wrong. It was late Friday afternoon, June 19. The day my wife saved my life. An abscess in my brain was wrecking my ability to use language and maintain my balance. I had first realized I was not well the previous Sunday night. But I thought it was a wicked summer cold. I might have called in sick the next day, June 15, but a friend was meeting me at the paper a little before 7 a.m. We were going to take a selfie together up on the roof of the Chronicle Building. I did not have her phone number with me at home. So I got up Monday and rode my bicycle downtown. By midmorning, I realized I had zero energy, even for a 60-year-old. I emailed my editors and said I didn’t feel well and would be back Tuesday/Paul Turner, The Slice. More here.

Thoughts?

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