Humble Pie in Bakersfield

By Bob Cox

I was shopping for a birthday gift for my nephew Parker (a.k.a. Uncle Grandma) when my phone rang, which diverted my attention away from scanning the shelves for the funniest birthday card ever. I didn’t recognize the number, so when I swiped the little green phone on my touch-screen to the right, I waited for the caller to speak first. I suspected it was another annoying telemarketer, so when the sound of a vaguely familiar voice asked, “Is this Bobby Cox?” I was shocked and amazed to learn that the voice belonged to my long-lost childhood best friend Vince, someone that I hadn’t spoken to in over 20 years!

After several delightful conversations via phone and text, my wife Diana and I decided to make the 296 mile trek down I-5 last month to Bakersfield to reconnect with the guy that was truly a brother to me. We spent the bulk of our childhood together, laughing, playing sports, hitting the beach and bickering like an old married couple. No matter what we did, Vince added color to my black and white life. I may have already owned the coloring book, but it was Vince who always bought the crayons.

After a wonderful day of reminiscing and catching up with Vince and conversing with his sweet and soft spoken wife Callene, Diana and I headed to the cool comforts of our motel room. About an hour after lying down for a much needed night of uninterrupted sleep, I was awoken by the familiar abdominal cramps that felt like an elephant using my stomach like a stepping stone. I had been experiencing this pattern for a couple of weeks and mistakenly thought I was getting too much protein in my diet, so I wasn’t too concerned as they always went away after a couple of hours of annoying discomfort.

This night would turn out to be quite different as the pain never relented. I finally rolled over and asked Diana to call 911, which she did after some reluctance as she thought I was just being a drama queen. The next 19 hours became an epic ordeal as we waited in the overcrowded emergency room hallway for a room to become available. The intensity and duration of the pain began to impact my heart, which went into Atrial fibrillation, an erratic and dangerous rhythm that can be deadly. It felt like I was sprinting at full speed on a treadmill with no timetable to get off to catch my breath.

To make a bad situation exponentially worse, my poor wife, a two time cancer survivor, had just endured extensive lower back surgery the previous month. Despite my urgent requests for her to go back to the motel room to get some much needed rest and relief, Diana refused to leave my side until I got a room. It would take another two days of round the clock tests to determine that my gallbladder was fried and four more days of tests and recovery before my doctors felt comfortable enough to release me.

During this seven day odyssey in The San Joaquin Hospital, I realized how fragile my independence was. I was almost totally dependent on the competent and caring professionals, as well as friends and family members, who provided me with the incredible physical and emotional support that I desperately needed.

Looking back on my life, from the earliest memories and into my early adulthood, I was hopelessly needy and chronically dissatisfied. No matter how much I received from the people I believed that I needed, it never seemed to be enough. As I began a life-long journey towards self-improvement, I realized that I was far happier and healthier immediately after making the subtle shift from need to want. By choosing to be around people because I WANTED to be with them instead of being around people I NEEDED to be with was completely liberating. That choice has lead to a life filled with greater joy and tranquility. On the other hand; life does find a way of humbling even the most fiercely independent members of our society. I should know, as I dined on a steady diet of tasty humble pie in Bakersfield!