I don’t feel right.
Those four words spoken in the Chronicle building two weeks ago today set me on an odyssey that is still underway.
With weak limbs and eyes unfocusing, I just did not feel myself. Kristin Bowman, our advertising supervisor, suggested that we call an ambulance. I immediately vetoed it, just let me see how things go.
I went into my office and as I talked to Gary Nelson, our senior staff writer, things did not improve. I couldn’t even rise to go up front to meet with a reader. So when Gary offered a ride to Cumberland Medical Center, I took him up on it.
And there starts my odyssey.
When I told the admissions clerk about my eyes, she immediately scheduled an MRI. Thankfully, everything was clear. What followed were all kinds of blood tests and an EKG — all of it clear.
The diagnosis: good old exhaustion.
I remember when I was a kid reading about Elvis Presley going to the hospital because he was exhausted. I thought it was silly. This big rock star was tired, and he was taking up a hospital bed.
Famous last words.
The hospitalist ordered four days off and to do a recheck with my doctor, who agreed and gave me one more.
And it was while I was in the midst of relaxing and thinking about going to the Chronicle Monday morning that the second part of my odyssey began.
I got up, apparently with my foot underneath a throw on the chair, and did a face plant in the floor.
The good news is I didn’t pass out. I didn’t lose consciousness.
The bad news is I got a concussion anyway.
So, I slept. And slept. And slept. At one point, I worried that I was dying.
That’s where two of the best friends anyone could have stepped in.
Donnie fielded a tearful late-night phone call. He prayed with me and said the right things.
Anita, my BFF who put the “best” in the acronym, got a similar call early the next morning. She told me to be assertive with my doctor’s office about getting me in, and she took off work to drive me there.
Diagnosis: I’m dying. Someday. Likely not today.
It’s a good old-fashioned concussion. Sleeping is one of the symptoms, and you just deal with it for a month or so.
One thing makes me extremely sad. Anyone who knows me knows what a huge Beatles fan I am, particularly of Paul McCartney.
I have tickets to see him in Atlanta in November. Sadly, I won’t be able to make it.
I’ve seen Sir Paul twice, and I’m upset I can’t make it the trifecta. That’s OK. I think The Cute Beatle would tell me to take care of myself.
This great odyssey, of course, has come with its lessons. One of those is that life is too short. I’m no longer 20. Heck, I’m no longer 40. And we work to live, we do not live to work.
Those of you who have received emails from me on the weekend will no longer receive them. My days of working on the weekends — while there may be an occasional one — will not be every weekend as it has been.
It’s time for Cheryl to take care of Cheryl.
I think by putting my priority on myself, I will be a much better newspaper editor. I will be a much better supervisor to my wonderful team who has kept the home fires burning, in spite of problems that would throw the most veteran of editors.
My most abject thanks to Jessica Ceballos, Gary Nelson, Mike Moser and Scott Wilson. You are a team that nobody can beat. I love you with all my heart.
In addition to Donnie and Anita, I send heartfelt gratitude to my other best friend, Cindy, my daughter Amie, my niece Megan, and her husband Kaiden.
The latter three are the ones who hauled me to the ER for the second time in a week and got the concussion diagnosed.
As for CMC, we have a jewel of an asset in this community. They’re not perfect, but who of us walking this earth is?
I realize ER wait times can be excessive. (I spent the majority of that Tuesday there, in a chair, by the way.)
But there are an awful lot of us. Cumberland County is growing, and maybe the new health science wing at Roane State will contribute to its staff.
Keep in mind other communities surrounding us do not have hospitals. We’re taking care of their sick and injured as well.
Every member of my CMC ER care team apologized for the wait.
I almost expected CAO Randy Davis to come down and apologize, not because I’m the newspaper editor, but because they were that sincere.
And it wasn’t only to me — it was to everyone, because there were a lot of us there.
My thanks to CMC for taking care of me, twice, and my thanks to everyone who’s looked out for me, who’s called, and who’s prayed. I have felt it and been buoyed by your love and kindness.
Please continue your prayers as I get my strength back and learn a new way of doing my job.
Today starts a new chapter in my editorship at the Chronicle. In this chapter, I take care of myself, and I hope it benefits all of us.
Thank you again.
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Cheryl Duncan is editor of the Crossville Chronicle. She can be reached at cduncan@crossville-chronicle.com or 931-484-5145