PATRICK MCVAY

WRITER

My Musings

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Hurricane Pat

Do you remember what you were doing 25 years ago today? I vividly remember what I was doing. There I was on Harvard Ave in Allston, Massachusetts, bleeding on the street from a nearly mortal injury. People around me kept saying “Don’t worry, it’s just a flesh wound.” True. And yet the flesh that was wounded included a very important artery in my right calf, along with every muscle fiber right down to the bone. Gross! Once everyone realized that I didn’t just have a wee little scratch, we moved on from casual conversation to fashioning a tourniquet out of a shoelace.

You don’t remember Hurricane Pat because it was actually named Hurricane Bob, and also because you’re so young, you teen reader of mine. Or you’re one of my octogenarian readers and not sure if you can recall August 19, 1991. But if you had almost died right there in the swirling wind, with a tipsy street-guy a few feet away commenting on the gruesome sight, you’d probably remember it as well. When I was a kid my dad often used the one-liner, “It wasn’t the fall that hurt so much, but the sudden stop.” Similarly, it wasn’t the 40 mile an hour wind at 3 in the afternoon that got me, it was the jagged edge of a broken window that the wind threw at me as I walked along the sidewalk with my girlfriend.

By now you’ve determined that I must have survived that ordeal because there are still no blogs written from the great beyond, but I assure you that I almost didn’t, and furthermore only retained the bottom half of my leg thanks to the efforts of a whole slew of people at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital in Brighton, including a surgeon from Lebanon who had seen it all. If I hadn’t survived, this very important blog of mine – which undoubtedly is essential in your life – would never have come into existence. What if the window had hit my neck and got my jugular? No Pat McVay and no Pat’s kids, which means maybe no cure for cancer, which is what I’m expecting my kids to accomplish in the next 20 or so years.

Any chance that you were bleeding on Harvard Ave in Allston on August 19, 1991?

I'll Steak My Reputation On Those Eggs
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