I managed to retire in my middle fifties due to wise investments, rising property values in my native California, and being a Baby Boomer, probably the luckiest generation in history, economically speaking. I was lazy, not stupid. I decided to take my money and relocate to a place where I could live well for less. I bought myself a nice little Pueblo Revival home in an upscale development just outside Santa Fe, New Mexico. In retrospect, it was a very wise move. I fell in love with the whole pace and vibe of the Southwest. The scale and openness of the land become addictive.

My street was a nice mix of younger retired couples and singles like me for the most part. The places were just a tad small for families with kids, so it was pretty quiet, though not devoid of life, unlike so many dedicated retirement communities are. It had no age restrictions or other covenants. I had really good neighbors all around me, and it was very safe and in a newer part of town.

Gary and Marge were a couple who lived across the street from me. Gary was seventy-two and had owned a very successful catering business in Ohio. Marge was his much younger wife by twenty years. I picked up early on that it was not a marriage made in heaven. Gary was a big drinker and kind of a loudmouth, and a little of him went a long way. Marge was obviously there for the good lifestyle he provided them both. They had a pool, and occasionally I would be invited over there to take a dip on a hot day. I was not a big drinker or golfer, Gary’s other passion, so we didn’t have a lot in common. However, sneaking looks at Marge in her swimsuit made it all worthwhile! No way did she look in her fifties. She had the body of a tight and toned thirty-year-old. She worked out and kept herself in shape. Marge and I were constantly flirting with each other in a comical way with sexual innuendos that flew over Gary’s head. We often took walks together in the high desert behind our homes, too. Gary was not much of a walker, and it showed. He had been aging fast lately.

One day, I looked out my front window and saw Gary looking confused and pacing up and down his driveway. I went over to see what the problem was and could tell he was anxious and disoriented.

“Where am I and what am I doing here?” Gary said in an almost whisper tinged with fear.

His eyes were blank, and he slurred his words a bit. I was able to get him to his porch and sat down. Now I was pretty used to seeing Gary drunk, but this was something different somehow. My immediate reaction was that maybe Gary was having a stroke. The garage door was open, and Marge’s car was gone, so I was on my own. I immediately called 911 for an ambulance, thinking it’s better to be safe than sorry. They arrived almost immediately and took Gary away. I called Marge on her cell phone and told her what had transpired. She had been shopping and was on her way home, but instead went directly to the hospital. I told her to give me a call when she knew something.

Marge called back and told me they thought it was a Transient Ischemic Attack, but they were going to do a few more tests on Gary. She was going to stay at the hospital until she knew more. I told her I would feed their dog and cat and lock up the house. I had keys for when they went out of town. Marge had even brought up to me before this happened how Gary had been acting a little strange lately. I even noticed he didn’t seem quite his old self the last few months.