This week marks the four-year anniversary of my life changing forever.
This was the week when my voice turned into a drunken slur. This was the week when it became impossible to write a simple tweet or facebook post because my fine motor skills were shot. This was the week I almost died.
Four years ago I took a five minute ambulance ride from my doctor’s office to West Bloomfield’s Henry Ford hospital after suffering a stroke. Even as they wheeled me down for a 3 a.m. catscan that night I was thinking of ways for me to return to my career in radio.
I regret thinking that way. I regret returning to 97.1 four months later. I should have stayed gone.
Even at age 57 I was stupid and didn’t know any better. I had hustled and busted my ass ever since I was in high school. I was used to working but sometimes it is OK to relax in life. If I had to do it all over again I never would have returned for that three month stretch in 2017 where I rejoined the Valenti and Foster Show.
I was like Willie Mays striking out and dropping fly balls at the end. I was like those poor boxers who kept making unsuccessful comebacks.
I felt like an outcast and wanted to quit a week into my return. I was in a very emotional state and wondered why none of my radio partners visited me at the hospital when I needed them most. That really bothered me.
People used to ask me to call into the station just to say hello. They want to hear my voice. To be honest I never want to be on that station again. I don’t even want to set foot in that building. I may tell you why in a future post but I need to run it by one person because I fear he could get in trouble.
I knew I wasn’t my old self. I was still sick, but did not want to admit it. I kept thinking that the old Terry Foster would return the next day like a raging tiger. But it never happened.
Instead I got sick after every show. Although I was on a low sodium diet, eating grilled fish and steamed pea pods just about every day, my blood pressure began boiling by the second hour of each show.
My head pounded. My blood pressure spiked. My drive from the station to my house was just 16 minutes, but I was barely making it home without falling asleep. I’d take my blood pressure and read startling numbers like 192/110. 201/100. One time I celebrated because my blood pressure after one show was only 182/95.
Those were the same numbers I posted when I had my stroke. One doctor said if I continue doing the show I would either die or be paralyzed.
I quit the next day. It was the best decision I’ve made the last five years. This same doctor told me not to return. I called him a quack, but he was right.
My wife Abs was going to give me two more weeks before she pulled the plug. She didn’t do it sooner because she knew how much the show meant to me. She wanted me to enjoy a few more days of glory.
I was chasing those Benjamins. I did not want it to end. But what fun is having money when you are dead or in a wheel chair? What fun is it when you have two children who would be worried about daddy all the time? What fun is it going to a job you hate?
Besides I have two very important dates I want to make. I want to dance with my daughter Celine at her wedding. I will cry by the way because it will hit me that it is a date I could have missed.
And I want to help my son Brandon into his tux on his wedding day.
If I had continued doing radio I would have missed both dates.
I got a little emotional while helping move Celine into her dorm room as a freshman in college. That day was also not promised.
Why risk that by being in a place where you are not wanted? Why risk that while reading Ticket text that say.
I hope you have another stroke.
I’m sorry you ever came back.
Sometimes you hang onto a dream for too long. My dream turned into a nightmare, one that was sending me to my early grave.
I didn’t mean to get sick.
Shit happens.Find Terry Foster Podcast here: