At work today, an older woman called 911 from the café. She was experiencing dizziness, headache, numbness in her arm and hand. The paramedics came; she was taken out on a gurney, her husband at her side. Turns out she'd had two mini-strokes prior. This was, very likely, another.
Out of nowhere - but not surprisingly, I suppose - I thought of Dad. His first stroke. His last. It was all I could do not to run to the ladies' room and cry.