Have you even encountered a co-worker who just did "it" for you, whatever that "it" may be? Someone, who against all conventional wisdom, caused your internal gyroscope to discombobulate?
And so it was for me with Heidi... I was already happily married whenever I first met her, but simply being in her presence, the shock to my system was like sticking my fingers in an electrical socket. The first few times after we talked, I'd have to check my hair in the mirror to see if it was standing up like Art Garfunkel's.
Don't get me wrong, she wasn't the most beautiful woman I'd ever met, nor the curviest, or any of the normal things most men visually look for whenever they immediately judge a woman. She was long and lean, with burnt auburn hair, reminding one of a retired Riverdancer instead of a government bean counter.
Oh... she was cute alright, but more than any physical trait, Heidi had that 'je ne sais quoi,' an energy and a presence that radiated from her pale lightly-freckled skin. And as I came to learn over the years, underneath her ten shades of innocence on the outside, she had a wicked playful mind that would age well.
The years flew by as we dealt with our children, the frustrations of our jobs, debt, marital boredom and various health issues, and through it all, we would always communicate, E-mail and texting conversations being the norm. Working in close proximity, writing to each other drew less attention from co-workers. Heidi evolved into an extremely important part of my life, a trusted friend to share life's stories, secrets, hopes and dreams.
And through the years, I'll admit it was me who first started to flirt with Heidi, mostly playing the role of Wyle E Coyote to her Roadrunner, boulders of granite constantly falling on my head. She might occasionally tease me for my advances, but it was all good-natured and fun.
For example... One day I texted that my wife shaves her pussy because I don't like getting pubic hair stuck in my teeth when going down on her, and likewise, I shave my scrotum because I enjoy having my balls licked and sucked on. Heidi was incredious, stating that she's never shaved. This became one of my favorite subjects to joke about, Heidi's bush. I often joked that my dreams of travel upon retirement were Machu Picchu, the Taj Mahal and Heidi's Red Forest. She always joked back that it should be up for consideration as the Eighth Natural Wonder of the World.
And although we each remained happily married to our respective spouses, I swore to her that if we ever found ourselves alone in the world, I would be first in line to ask her for a date.
She laughed at this, dismissing me, although I'm guessing that she secretly my enjoyed my sincerity. But quite honestly, it was a promise that I hoped that I'd never have to keep.
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And then one early Tuesday morning at Planet Fitness, I suddenly went from an in-shape fifty-two year old, mostly kicking Father Time's ass, to an injured old man. I felt pain shooting down my right leg unlike anything I'd even felt, mind-numbing, white light pain. My chiropractor couldn't adjust it away, and my orthopedist started a ridiculously slow process of diagnosis. At first, he tried Prednisone then Mackenzie physical therapy without success. After an MRI, epidural injections provided only temporary relief, and my sciatica always returned with a vengeance.
Unfortunately, I made the mistake of continuing to eat at the same caloric rate as before, despite the fact I was sedentary and in pain. The pounds got packed on quickly, and I got out of shape and fat real fast.
Eventually, as my condition worsened with each passing month, I made the decision to go down to Johns Hopkins for a second opinion.
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"Well... there is good news and bad news," I texted to Heidi that sweltering mid-August afternoon from Baltimore after calling my wife. "The good news is the Hopkins back surgeon thinks he can help me. The bad news is that he's placed some ridiculously unobtainable condition for operating on me."
"What's the condition?" Heidi texted back.
"I have to lose 25 pounds before the surgery in October. He thinks it would hinder proper recovery if I don't lose some weight. I told him that losing that much is impossible, since I can't exercise."
"You can do anything you really want to. I have confidence in you."
"Ha! Thanks, Mrs. 5% body fat, however, I can't do anything without pain. Can't walk, can't exercise... Hell, I can't even make proper love to my wife anymore!"
"Do you have pain when lifting your fork and spoon?"
"No..."
"Ted and I have this discussion all the time. I tell him he simply has to eat less if he doesn't want to exercise more."
"Much easier said than done, Mrs. Blake."
"You can do it!"
"Maybe a little... but 25 pounds? In two months? Impossible."
"Think positively!"
"OK, but thinking won't get it done."
"Yes, you can!"
"I don't know, Heidi, I'm kind of at the end of this journey. I can't take it anymore. One way or the other, something has to change for the better."
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I got home that evening and ate a turkey sandwich, no bread, no cheese, no mayo, just a slice of turkey wrapped around a tomato from the garden. It was a joyless meal. I walked back and forth on the driveway for five minutes before the pain shooting down my leg became unbearable. Popping another Ibuprofen and Tramadol, I showered in the basement and lumbered up the stairs. It took me five minutes to climb thirteen steps. I realized that all the positive thinking in the world wasn't going to get the job done.
I had always rejected being depressed, thinking that the problem would somehow eventually be solved, and I'd simply return to some measure of normality. But was that realistic? Was this pain for the rest of my life? I couldn't envision myself living like this forever. Pain was not my friend.
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My phone whistled on the way to work the next morning, a long message from Heidi...
"Good morning! I've thought a lot about your situation overnight, and I want to help you get fixed. I felt desperation in your last message yesterday and I know that you can do anything you really want to, but sometimes you just need the proper motivation. I have an idea, and knowing your 'unique' personality, I think I can help you achieve your goal."
I replied, "I AM motivated to get fixed. I just don't know how to lose all that weight while not being able to move."
