I dearly, dearly love my brother-in-law, Matt. This is one of my favorite stories about him:
Matt lived with us for a couple of months when we lived in Montana. One night, Josh and I were already asleep when Matt frantically knocked on our door, whisper-shouting, "Guys! Wake up!"
Waking out of a semi-deep sleep, I immediately thought the house was on fire or something (why else would he wake us up in the middle of the night?). I jumped out of bed, jerked open the door, and found Matt bent over, his one arm dangling limply at his side.
"I can't move my left arm and it feels really tingly." (I don't remember his exact words, but it was something like this.) I think he also mentioned something about his heart not feeling right.
I very helpfully asked, "What's wrong with it?"
He didn't know, but was afraid something was wrong with his heart or something. I kept asking him what he wanted us to do, if he needed to go to the doctor, or if we needed to call an ambulance.
I was so panicked, my legs were shaking and I felt sick, so I went and sat down on the edge of the bed while Josh finally got up to go see if he could help Matt. Matt repeated what was wrong. Josh looked at him for a moment.
"Is your arm asleep?" he asked.
Matt was quiet for several long seconds. Then, "Yeah, I think that's what it is."
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