Читать книгу The Healthy Mechanic - Tim Scapillato - Страница 8

Ben was a walking time bomb. When he walked into his doctor’s office at the age of 42, he was a prime candidate for a major heart attack, stroke, or any of a number of other debilitating middle-age diseases resulting from an adult lifestyle characterized by poor diet, physical inactivity, and way too much stress. He had been thinking of visiting his doctor for a physical examination, but hadn’t been able to fit it into his busy schedule. Even small warning signs alerting him to looming health problems had had no effect—Ben was always able to find an excuse to delay. He had been procrastinating on starting a weight-loss diet, on beginning an exercise program, on trying to spend more time with his family, and on starting to work less. Very soon, he kept telling himself, all of these good intentions would come to fruition.

Just how bad his condition had become was driven home to him forcefully when the elevator in his office building was temporarily out of order, and he decided to walk the two flights of stairs up to his next meeting. By the time he had finished climbing, his legs were burning, he was gasping for air, and his pulse was racing. He was uncomfortably aware that this was his first exercise of any kind in several weeks, maybe even months or years. It took almost an hour before he was able to breathe normally again and his legs stopped aching. This was a reality check that Ben was determined not to ignore.

On his way to work each day he often drove past men and women—many of them much older than he—running or cycling or power-walking. He used to brush them off as health nuts with too much spare time on their hands. Now he began to take a critical look at his own lifestyle—his workaholic habits, his rich restaurant meals (complete with drinks and dessert, all paid for by the company expense account), his complete lack of physical activity—and wondered who was the fanatic, and to what end. His “wellness epiphany” prompted him to pick up the phone and make an appointment to see his doctor. He wasn’t sure what he was going to find out, but he could guess, and the thought scared him. He knew then that his life was about to change in a big way.

Ben, once a high school athlete, was now easily 25 pounds overweight. Results of medical tests taken at his last doctor’s appointment revealed elevated cholesterol levels, high blood pressure, a high resting pulse rate, and a slow recovery rate after vigorous physical activity. In short, he was in much the same shape as more than half the population his age in North America—he may have been in good company, but it was small comfort to know that he wasn’t alone. As his doctor pointed out to him bluntly, he was another statistic waiting to happen. Unless he took steps to alter his lifestyle radically, it was only a matter of time until his lifestyle would alter him permanently.

Ben spent the next several days engaged in some serious soul-searching. On the one hand, he regretted letting his health decline for the sake of a career that really provided little satisfaction beyond a good salary. On the other hand, he felt fortunate that he had so far avoided any major health complications and had been offered an opportunity—perhaps a final one—to take control of his destiny. His family was still there for him, and that was the most important thing in the world. He was determined to make sure that he was there for them for a long time to come.

Ben had often heard about people going through a “mid-life crisis”, but dismissed the thought that it would ever happen to him. At this crossroads in his life, he now had to make a choice: do nothing and suffer the dangerous consequences, or take the opportunity to turn the situation into something positive. Without knowing how he was going to do it, Ben had already made the decision to turn his life around.

Making the decision to take action was the easy part. Ben had never been able to sit back and let others set the agenda. He had an innate ability to make the right choices on matters of critical importance. His decisions were always based on solid information, extensive research, and careful consideration. Ben was a born skeptic who instinctively looked at a situation from every possible perspective. He was a master at playing the devil’s advocate, but when he was confident that his position was solid, he didn’t hesitate to make the tough decisions. So far, his track record was unassailable.

Making a decision to change his life was less difficult than deciding how that change would take place. He had used his skills for many years in the corporate world to make sound business decisions. Now he had to turn those skills inward and make the most important decision of his life. The payoff this time would not be money—it was far more important than that. Ben was surprised to hear himself think that anything could be more important than earning another dollar, but he took it as a positive sign that his perspective was properly focused. He was back in familiar territory and confident that his skills and instincts would not let him down when he needed them most.

Ben left the doctor’s office concerned for his health and preoccupied with finding a way to turn his life around. The challenges facing him were huge, but motivation—or lack of it—would not be one of them. He decided to walk back to his office. This would give him an opportunity to think and to get some exercise.

“I’m taking the first step toward a new life,” Ben thought as he began his walk back to work.

He was suddenly jolted from his deep thought by a voice from behind.

“Ben—Ben Dayton! Hey, I’m still waitin’, Dayton!”

The voice was only vaguely familiar, but that line—“I’m still waitin’, Dayton”—was unmistakable. He hadn’t heard it since he left high school, but he would never forget it. As a stagehand during a play in Grade 10, it had been Ben’s job to lower the backdrop during a scene change. The transition had to be done in total darkness in less than 30 seconds. There was no time to hesitate or make a mistake. Ben had missed his cue and found himself caught out of position when the lights went out. When the lights came back up, Ben was still scrambling up to the catwalk above the stage from where he would lower the backdrop. All of the characters were in place on stage, unsure whether they should proceed or wait. The vice-principal, Vic Parsons, was directing traffic backstage. Parsons ran the stage production like he ran the school: he expected perfection and had little patience with anyone who made a mistake. From the catwalk, Ben looked down, caught Parsons’ eye, and froze in his tracks. In a voice loud enough for everyone in the auditorium to hear, he announced: “I’m still waitin’, Dayton!” Ben scrambled to lower the backdrop while some members of the audience laughed nervously, unsure whether this was part of the production, or a major gaffe. The rest of the play went off without a hitch, but Ben was never able to live down that moment of infamy. “I’m still waitin’, Dayton!” became everyone’s favourite expression when they saw Ben. Even though it had been over 20 years since he had heard anyone say it, the effect was electric: Ben stopped in his tracks, wheeled around, and found himself face to face with Vic Parsons.

Although Parsons had the respect of almost every student in his high school, Ben didn’t know anyone who actually liked him. This didn’t bother Parsons, though, since it was his job to enforce the rules of the school, which was probably easier to do if you were disliked but respected. A strict disciplinarian, Parsons was bigger than life in more ways than one: as an authority figure, he loomed large in the daily lives of his high school students, but physically, too, he was a large man. Behind his back the students may have referred to him as “Parsnips”, but no one wanted to confront him to his face. That’s why Ben instinctively reeled when he found himself just inches away from his old high school “drill sergeant”.

It was unmistakably “Parsnips”, but there was something different about the man who stood before him. First of all, he was smiling, something that Ben could not recall ever having seen him do in all of his years at school. Secondly, this man looked more vibrant, healthy, and quite a bit smaller than when he was running Confederation High School in Ottawa. There was no mistaking those eyes, though. Ben would never forget the power they held over him that night on the catwalk. They were as intense as he remembered, but they no longer instilled fear or apprehension. Still, Ben could have walked right past this man without recognizing him if he hadn’t uttered those four famous words. Ben had seen so many people (including himself) start to decline physically as they aged. Even in high school, Parsons was already an obese pack-a-day smoker who showed no concern for his health. Ben was surprised, first of all, that he was still alive, and, secondly, that he actually looked younger than when he had last seen him a quarter of a century ago.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Dayton,” said Parsons.

“Mr. Parsons,” said Ben. “You’re looking good.” Ben realized that he had never actually had a conversation with this man, and wasn’t sure what to say.

“Thanks. I feel like a million bucks. What a beautiful day. Hey, you don’t look too good, Dayton. Are you feeling OK?”

Ben had the uneasy feeling that Parsons, who had to be 25 years his senior, was probably in better health than he. The old vice-principal certainly appeared more vibrant, upbeat and happy.

“Me? Yeah, I’m all right. Just a bit under the weather. Are you still at Confederation?” Ben asked, realizing that it was a dumb question.

“Hell, no! I left there twelve years ago. Thirty years is long enough in one job. I wanted to make sure that I was able to enjoy at least a couple of years of retirement before the ‘big one’ hit.”

“The big one?” asked Ben, wondering why Parsons would have worried about an earthquake.

“Heart attack. I was lucky I even made it to retirement. I spent most of my life more concerned with my job—keeping guys like you in line—than about my own health. I smoked too much, ate too much, worked too hard, and didn’t exercise. I was a walking time bomb. I was looking at retirement at a relatively young age with a nice fat pension, but I was in such poor health that I wasn’t going to be able to enjoy any of it.”

“Well, I have to tell you, Mr. Parsons, you—”

“—call me Vic,” he interrupted. But don’t call me ‘Parsnips’. I know you guys used to call me that behind my back, but I have to tell you, I hate parsnips, even though they really are quite good for you.”

“Sure. OK. Well, I was just going to say that you look remarkably healthy. When you said that I looked like I’d seen a ghost, you weren’t too far off the mark. I was expecting to see someone else when I heard your voice. I mean it’s you, but a new and improved you.”

“Well, I have to tell you, Dayton, you don’t look new and improved.”

Some things hadn’t changed: Parsons never minced words. You might not like what he said, but you always knew that he said exactly what he was thinking.

“I’ve been under a lot of stress, I guess,” said Ben, fumbling and mincing his words. In truth, Ben was overwhelmed at the remarkable transformation of the man standing in front of him. More disturbing, though, was the realization that he was heading down the same slippery slope that Parsons had been on at that age. He had walked out of his doctor’s office fully aware that he was a prime candidate for “the big one”, as Parsons had called it, wondering what he would have to do to turn his life around. Now he was standing on the street talking to a man who might have some answers. Ben had never been a big believer in omens—he put those in the same category as horoscopes—but this was a sign that shouldn’t be ignored.

“Can I buy you a coffee?” asked Ben, gesturing towards a café on the other side of the street.

“I don’t drink coffee anymore, Dayton. There was a time when I couldn’t get through a day at school without a dozen cups of coffee. I thought it was the only way to cope with the stress of dealing with you and all your friends. Turns out it was actually increasing the stress on my systems. No, you can’t buy me a coffee, Dayton, but I’ll take a cup of herbal tea.”

“OK. Let’s go,” said Ben. He wondered what Max would say when he told him that he bought “Parsnips” a cup of herbal tea.

* * *

“It was fate, Dayton,” said Parsons as he sipped on his tea. “Fate is what made my car break down just a block away from one of the most unusual auto mechanics in the world. People think Wakefield is nothing but a sleepy little retirement community, but it’s home to someone who could literally change the world, if he wanted to. Look what he did for me.”

“I presume that he fixed your car. But, most auto mechanics have a knack for that type of thing. How could that change the world?” asked Ben, surprising himself with his thinly veiled sarcasm. Back in high school, that would likely have resulted in a detention.

“Not that part. That’s nothing, really. I mean, he’s the best mechanic I’ve ever seen, but I’m talking about his wellness philosophy.”

“Excuse me?” asked Ben. He wasn’t sure whether he should laugh at the thought of a small-town auto mechanic dispensing philosophical advice.

“Wellness, Dayton. Good health. I’m not surprised that you aren’t familiar with the concept. I know we didn’t teach it to you guys in high school. I’m pretty sure it isn’t in the curriculum even today. But it’s the most important thing we could ever teach a youngster.”

“What does an auto mechanic know about health? I thought that’s why we had doctors. Why is this guy fixing cars? And what did he do for you—you mentioned that he was somehow responsible for your being in good health. What’s that all about?” Ben stopped, realizing that he was firing questions at Parsons without letting him answer. If he hadn’t seen for himself the incredible transformation in this man, he would have gotten up and walked out of the café. He was willing at least to listen. For the price of a cup of tea, he might actually learn something that would help him deal with his own looming problems.

“I could sit here and talk to you about this auto mechanic’s 11 secrets to wellness, and you’d probably just think that I was starting to go senile. Listen, I was a teacher for thirty years, and now I’m retired. I really don’t feel like teaching again—especially you, Dayton. You were a real challenge.”

Ben smiled, remembering many of his encounters with Parsons. It was satisfying, in a way, to learn that the old VP considered him a challenge.

“I think you’d get more out of it if you heard it straight from the horse’s—or, in this case, mechanic’s—mouth. He has a way of explaining it that makes it seem so logical and easy to understand. If you heard it second-hand from me, you probably wouldn’t listen. I don’t want you to feel like you’re back in high school getting a lecture from me, old Parsnips. You didn’t like to listen to me much then, anyway.”

“I wasn’t that bad, was I, Vic?”

“Well, let me put it this way: you weren’t the worst of the bunch. Why don’t you come with me on the weekend? It’s time for my monthly visit, and I’m sure Daniel would love to meet you. He’s probably getting tired of talking to me all the time.”

“Your monthly visit? Does your car break down that often? What are you driving—a Lada?”

“Very funny. Now I’m really starting to remember what it was like having you in my school. Actually, my car never breaks down. Why? Because Daniel maintains it on a regular basis. That way, no major problems can develop, and the minor ones can be averted. It’s called preventive maintenance. Ever hear of that, Dayton?”

“Sure, I’ve heard of it. Come to think, my car is due for an oil change. Can you book an appointment for me?”

“What do I look like—your secretary?” asked Parsons.

Ben was taken aback, until Parsons started laughing.

“Got you!” he said. “It’ll be fine. Daniel will be glad to look at your car. Any friend of mine is a friend of his. Let’s just pretend that you’re my friend.” He laughed again, this time loud enough to draw stares from other patrons in the café.

Ben decided that it would be worth a visit to this philosophical mechanic, if only to see what kind of man could cause this kind of transformation in a man like old ‘Parsnips’. He took the directions, and agreed to meet at 10:00 the following Saturday in Wakefield, home of Webster’s Auto Repair.