The Hand Returned

Last year I woke up with no idea where I was. It felt like waking into a dream. People surrounded me, watching with concern. Someone was holding my hand, comforting me. Then it hit me. I was on the floor at my desk inside Apple’s headquarters.

Someone else rushed over, kindly folding their jacket into a pillow, and slid it under my head. I gave my phone to my colleague who called my wife, letting her know what had happened.

Time folded in on itself after that. The next thing I knew the paramedics arrived, placed me on a stretcher, and wheeled me through the vast glass hallways as people watched with concern.

In the ambulance, my brain suddenly rebooted, like jump-starting a car. My doctors had warned me this might happen: my first tonic clonic seizure.

Later, I was in a hospital room surrounded by medical staff. My wife arrived without our kids. That’s when the weight of it all hit. I couldn’t stop crying as the reality settled in.

Once the meds steadied me, she slipped on the same jacket they’d used as a pillow. Ridiculous. Perfect. We laughed through the fear. I snapped a photo and sent it to my colleagues with gratitude. Their kindness will stay with me forever.

The next day I clambered out of bed, only to find the floor as the concussion said hello. The recovery was brutal, and ordinary life suddenly felt far away.

When I went back to the office the next week, I walked straight over to my colleague Steve — the one who’d held my hand — and this time, I held his, shaking it with gratitude¹.

After Thoughts

In today’s world we hide our moments of weakness, concerned how it reflects on us and the perception it creates. On the floor of Apple’s headquarters, I was surrounded by many people. I could not stop crying. Even when I went back to my colleague Steve that next week, I cried. Senior management walked over in this moment checking to see if I was okay. I wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed at all, I was scared. I could no longer trust what my own brain would do next.

In modern culture we’re led to believe there needs to be this constant strength — an unwaivering, immovable foundation. It’s easy to forget that in these moments of weakness, new strengths are formed.