Series: The Flight I Never Boarded

What a medical emergency taught me about presence, capacity, and the life we slowly accept as normal.

Fear never entered the room when everything was happening. I was in the ER, my pulse had dropped into the 20s and 30s, doctors and nurses were moving quickly, a Life Flight helicopter had suddenly become part of the plan, a temporary pacemaker was placed, and a permanent pacemaker was scheduled. I knew something was wrong. I said something was wrong. I canceled the trip, went to the hospital, and accepted help. The strange part is that fear still was not the main emotion. Sometimes clarity does not fully arrive until after the crisis has passed.

The Fear Came Later

The day after that awful device check I wrote about in the last blog, I went to visit my mom in Memory Care. My chest was still healing, my nervous system was still buzzing from having the pacemaker briefly turned down, and I was doing that thing people do when life hands them too many feelings and still expects them to find a parking spot. I was functioning, but I was tender.

While I was there, I ran into two nurses I used to work with years ago at the local psychiatric hospital. We caught up a little, and then they told me about Rictor. Rictor had died three months ago. He was my age. They said he had not been looking right, but he kept telling people he was fine. Finally, one of the Greenleaf nurses drove him to the ER herself. Apparently, he still did not want EMTs called. He was still insisting he was fine. While she ran inside to get help, he died in her car. That story landed hard.

I would like to think Rictor was more stubborn than I am, but that “but” has been sitting with me. I did not tell people I was fine. I did get help. I did go to the ER. And still, Rictor’s story landed in the part of me that knew how close this had been. I had plans. I had explanations. I had a conference I wanted to attend. I had reasons to keep moving. His story made my story harder to soften. Fear had not skipped the event completely; it may have just arrived later, in a nursing home hallway, wearing Rictor’s name.

Inside, I quaked. My own Richter scale was approaching a six. And yes, Rictor. Richter. Apparently the universe decided I needed wordplay with my emotional processing. Subtle, universe. Very subtle.

Calm Is Not the Same as Processed

That is the distinction I want to sit with. Calm is useful. I am grateful I was calm. I am grateful that years of practicing presence seemed available when I needed it. I am grateful fear did not hijack the decisions that needed to be made. Calm helped me get through it.

But calm is not the same as processed. Calm can help you answer the questions, sign the forms, make the decision, listen to the doctor, cancel the trip, call the family, and do the next obvious thing. That matters. But later, when the room is quiet and no one is rushing around with medical equipment, the meaning may finally catch up. The nervous system does not always process life in chronological order.

That is worth knowing if you are a high-functioning person. You may be very good in a crisis. You may handle the diagnosis, the client emergency, the family conflict, the business problem, the divorce, the caregiving season, or the loss with impressive steadiness. People may even praise you for how well you handled it. And maybe you did handle it.

But handling it and integrating it are different things. Some of us are excellent at getting through things and less skilled at letting those things actually teach us. We keep moving because movement feels safer. We stay useful because usefulness gives us a role. We stay composed because composure protects us from looking too closely at what just happened. I say that with some affection because I may be in the club. Getting through it is not the same as letting it change you.

The practical question is simple: did you process it, or did you just perform well under pressure? That question has some teeth. It applies to more than medical emergencies. It applies to business setbacks, relationship pain, grief, parenting, faith changes, betrayal, burnout, and all the seasons you handled so efficiently that nobody realized they left a mark. Maybe you got through it. Good. Now ask whether it got through to you. That is where the real work begins.

Live Now

Rictor’s story did not make me want to obsess over death. It made me want to live more honestly. That is the point I keep coming back to. We do not have to wait for perfect clarity before we choose better. We do not have to wait until every emotion is neatly sorted. We do not have to wait until the crisis, the diagnosis, the collapse, the resignation, the blowup, or the body forcing the issue. Clarity often comes later, so live now.

And by “live now,” I do not mean recklessly, dramatically, or in some cheesy “every day is a gift” way that makes me want to unsubscribe from my own blog. I mean live now in the practical sense. Tell the truth sooner. Listen when your body gives you information. Repair the relationship while repair is still possible. Change the business before it consumes the person who built it. Ask for help before the system breaks. Stop waiting for a crisis to give you permission to adjust your life. That is not sappy. That is practical.

What Are You Avoiding Feeling?

A lot of high-functioning people are not avoiding action. They are avoiding the feeling that would meet them if they stopped moving. If you slow down, you might feel how tired you are. You might feel grief. You might feel anger. You might have to admit a relationship has gone cold. You might realize the business needs a different structure. You might notice you have been living braced for impact. You might see that your “fine” has been more of a management strategy than an honest report. Staying busy can keep the truth at a manageable distance.

But reality has a way of finding another doorway. A device check. A nursing home hallway. A story about someone your age who ran out of time. A quiet drive home. A random Tuesday when the thing you thought you had handled finally asks to be felt. What we do not make room to feel often waits for a less convenient moment.

Peace Is Practice, Not Performance

I used to think peace meant being unshaken. I do not think that anymore. Peace may look like going to the ER when you need help. Peace may look like staying calm while the crisis is unfolding. Peace may look like letting yourself quake later. Peace may look like saying, “That shook me more than I expected.” Peace may look like changing how you live because the lesson finally landed. Peace is not being untouched by reality. Peace is meeting reality without abandoning yourself.

That is the kind of work I help people do in the PEACE Path. Not performative calm. Not pretending everything is fine. The real work is slowing down enough to notice what is true, accept what has to be faced, choose the next grounded step, and live from more peace, clarity, and capacity. Peace is not a pose; it is a practice.

A Question for You

Where have you gotten through something, but not really processed it? Maybe it was a health scare. Maybe it was a business season. Maybe it was a betrayal, a divorce, caregiving, grief, burnout, or a major identity shift. Maybe everyone thought you were fine because you were functioning. Maybe even you thought you were fine because you kept going. Where did clarity come later for you?

If this hits something true, reply and tell me. I read those replies. And if you want help slowing down long enough to sort through your own version of this, ask me about the PEACE Path. We can look at what your life has been trying to tell you and what it would mean to move forward with more peace, clarity, and capacity. You do not have to wait for life to get louder before you listen.

The Flight I Never Boarded Series

1. The Flight I Never Boarded — www.caseycolecorbin.com/blog/flight-i-never-boarded

2. A Pulse of 20 and the Stories We Tell Ourselves — www.caseycolecorbin.com/blog/pulse-of-20

3. When Abnormal Becomes Normal — www.caseycolecorbin.com/blog/when-abnormal-becomes-normal

4. Near Death, but Not Afraid — www.caseycolecorbin.com/blog/near-death-not-afraid

5. The Talk I Didn’t Give — www.caseycolecorbin.com/blog/the-talk-i-didnt-give

6. Becoming a Cyborg — www.caseycolecorbin.com/blog/becoming-a-cyborg

7. What Survival Is For — www.caseycolecorbin.com/blog/what-survival-is-for

-Casey