I have been struck by lightening twice. Both times there were no real ill-effects that were lasting.
The first strike occurred when I was in high school, back in the 1970s. I was on the family phone in the kitchen speaking with a friend. There was a thunderstorm at the time, and I had heard this could be a potential danger. Yet, I was 16 or 17, never considered this danger, despite the fact that there was a telephone and power pole just outside our backyard property line.
I heard a loud boom in my left ear, and it felt like I had been hit by a baseball bat. The blast knocked me high over the kitchen table and chairs; the table was already set with dishes, glasses and the flower centerpiece. My flight didn’t touch anything on the table, and I hit the wall on the other side of the room, which was 20 feet away.
My Mom heard this and came running in. I had no idea what had happened, but she led me into the bathroom to clean up and splash water on my face. In the mirror I saw that half my face, neck and down into my shoulder and chest looked sunburned. I couldn’t hear in my left ear. My shirt collar had been burned black and was actually still smoking. Mom rushed me to the hospital.
The doctors checked me out, concluded that I’d been struck by lightening and would be fine in a few days. I was.
Some 40 years later while teaching in Guangzhou, China, I was apparently struck again. I say apparently because I remember nothing about it.
I had gone to the market to buy a few groceries and was walking to my apartment complex during a heavy rainstorm. These can be sudden in the spring and summer afternoons and can last for five minutes or hours, so people always carry an umbrella during those months. I was only about five meters from the front security gate and booth and glad to be home. That’s the last thing I remember until the next morning.
I woke up early feeling great, energized. But I was nude and so was my bed—no sheets, blanket, pillow cases, etc., and not a stitch of clothes on me.
I thought this was odd, but felt too good to let it concern me. After my morning ablutions, I went into the kitchen to make my morning coffee. There I was met by more mysteries.
It drives me crazy when someone leaves a cabinet door open; “Get what you need and close the damned door.” But every door on every cabinet was wide open. An even greater “What the hell?” is that every plate and bowl I owned was filled, piled high with steamed rice. Nothing else just cooked rice. Plus, my two largest pots had leftover rice in them. I had cooked enough rice for 40–50 people. I had no idea why and remembered none of this. I would not do these things. But I had to finish my morning pre-school ritual, so I put it all out of mind.
My wife and I were teaching at different schools then and during morning break at 10:30, she texted, “Any adverse effects from the lightening strike?”
I thought she was setting me up for some kind of practical joke, responding, “What the hell are you talking about?”
At lunchtime, she called and told me that I had called her about 6:30 the previous evening to tell that I’d just been struck by lightening, but the security guard had helped me get into my apartment and I was fine. Then she said that almost exactly one hour later, I called and told her the same exact thing. She claims I swore I couldn’t have called before because it had just happened. She could tell I wasn’t thinking clearly and didn’t argue, just told me to go rest.
I figured this was still a joke, but my curiosity was piqued. I wondered why I had cooked all that rice, woke up naked, etc. I could remember nothing from the night before and couldn’t wait to get home and look around my apartment for anything to spark my memory.
Once home, I explored my flat. When I opened the door to the guest room, I did discover more oddities. I only ever went into the room once a week to clean, so what I found deepened the mystery.
All of the items I had bought at the market were set in perfectly straight lines across the desk and bookcase shelves. Even the perishable meats, cheese and milk were there instead of in the refrigerator. On the floor beside the bed were all of the clothes I’d worn the day before and a towel, crumpled on the floor and still soaking wet.
Still, nothing sparked any inkling of memory or understanding. I figured there was nothing to do but clean the place up. Throughout the week, I was unconvinced that I’d been struck by lightening as my wife kept trying to tell me.
I lived a three minute walk from school so on Friday afternoons, I’d go home during lunch to change into more comfortable weekend clothes then return to school.
Wearing my weekend athletic shoes, as I walked back to school, my left heel was sticking some and there was that unmistakable smack of gum on my shoe. Getting to my classroom, I immediately sat down, grabbed something to scrape off the gum and turned my shoe up to do so. It was burned black and partially melted. “Shit! I guess I was struck by lightening.”
That evening a Chinese friend agreed to act as translator and we asked the security guard about it. He confirmed, stating that he’d actually seen the lightening bounce off a building, hit a tall palm tree, then jump to my umbrella. He said I was knocked flat, the nylon umbrella was on fire, but I claimed that I was all right. He wanted to call an ambulance, but I wouldn’t let him. I just wanted to get to my flat. After helping me there, he did call an ambulance and sent them to me. According to him, they examined me in my apartment and wanted to take me to the hospital. I apparently refused and kicked them out cursing.
I remember none of this, but it obviously did happen. I kept the burned, melted heel from my left shoe as a souvenir.
Global English Tutor - Paul Cuadrado 