Soul Sucker

John Miller’s POV

Denver, Colorado

Tuesday, December 6, 2022

Poked, prodded, scanned, interviewed, and monitored. By noon, the doctors still had no idea why I passed out and remained unconscious for hours. The cardiologist ordered a tilt test where I laid flat in a bed, then raised it to near-standing while the EKG and vitals sensors ran. The test ruled out blood pressure changes or heart conditions being the cause.

The neurologist was next. He gave me a thorough neurological test while I sat on the bed, then covered my test results. The MRI showed no causal evidence of stroke, brain damage, or epilepsy that could result in the prolonged attack. “Sudden loss of consciousness scenarios are typically brief, lasting only a few seconds. Lacking head trauma, an episode lasting more than a minute is rare.” Doctor Petersen told me as he sat by my bed. “Your case is interesting due to the hours of unconsciousness and the lack of causal physical symptoms. The clinic started monitoring your vitals within a minute. Your blood pressure and heart rate were significantly elevated initially before returning to normal, yet you didn’t wake.”

“I felt fine up to the event, and I feel fine now,” I replied. “I’ve never had this happen before, and I have no idea what caused this.”

“Have you lost consciousness before?”

“Sure, many times,” I told him. “You don’t fight MMA without getting choked out on occasion. It’s never been for more than a few seconds, though. I was knocked out cold playing high school hockey and got hit with a two-by-four in the back of the head while on patrol once.” We discussed my hobby and training with the Boston Police, plus my hockey career. “How many concussions would you say you have had?”

“Three diagnosed, those two and once after a college hockey game. I bet there were another three to five that weren’t,” I said. “Nobody wants to come out of the game just because they got their bell rung.”

“When was your last fight?”

“Saturday afternoon. The referee stopped the fight in the second round after I knocked him on his ass.”

“Did you take any hits to the head or neck?”

I nodded. “My defense was good, so nothing was hard enough to hurt me.”

He made a few notes. “Are you aware of the effects of concussions on the health of your brain?”

I nodded. “I’ve seen the stories about it.”

He brought up one of my scans on his tablet computer. “The MRI showed potential scarring in your brain that could be from previous trauma. The damage is old and outside those brain areas related to sleep and cardiac function, but it is concerning. I would strongly recommend changing your training to eliminate sparring and cranial impacts. The grappling shouldn’t be an issue, but the effects of the impacts are cumulative.”

It was another one of those things that I loved that I couldn’t do anymore, and that hurt. “I understand. Thanks, Doc.”

After lunch, they brought in the shrink. “The other doctors are unable to find a physical cause for your episode, so they’ve asked me to speak to you about other possibilities,” Dr. Howard said. “Have you ever had a panic attack, John?”

“Not that I know of. I’ve been in a lot of high-stress situations in my life but had nothing more than the adrenaline crash.”

“Tell me about the most recent one.”

I told him the story about the robbery on Saturday. “The whole time I sat at the table, I was calm and focused. I kept my girlfriend behind me, and her daughter was safe out of sight. The police were coming soon, so I figured the punks would give up or run off. When he opened up with the shotgun, I took him out fast. The part that worried me was when the cops rushed the door.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have a badge, guns are involved, and accidents can happen. The officers secured the scene and figured out what happened. When the adrenaline crash came, I knew how to deal with it.”

“You’ve been in shootings before?”

I nodded. “Seven times in twenty years, three fatal. I took a round through the leg in one encounter and one to the vest in another. So, yeah, I’ve faced death before. I knew my girls were safe, and nobody got hurt that didn’t deserve it, so I was good.”

“Were you ever diagnosed with post-traumatic stress?”

“No. Of course, cops won’t admit to that even if they are feeling the effects. Nobody wants to end up on the rubber-gun squad.”

“Do you think you’ve had it?”

“It’s hard to tell. The job is full of stress, and I saw things in Homicide no one should have to remember. My marriage imploded, I became an alcoholic, and I almost ate my gun a few times when I bottomed out. My friends helped me through it. I’ve been sober for eight years now, and I’m in a good relationship now. I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

He jotted down some notes. “Tell me about the time leading up to when you passed out.”

I gave some background before describing how I went from shaking hands to waking up in the hospital. “Like I told the others, I don’t know why I reacted that way.”

“There are booby traps inside our minds,” Doctor Howard replied. “Anything can be a trigger; a smell, a look, even a touch,” he said. “Something tripped a trigger at that moment, and the result was your brain shutting down. Essentially, your mind puts you to sleep. It might have acted to protect you from something or as the result of a previous traumatic event.”

“What could be the trigger?”

“I’m not sure we will know,” he replied.

“So what happened to me?”

“I don’t have enough for a definitive diagnosis based on a single episode, John. I believe you may have a condition called Psychogenic Pseudosyncope, or PPS. It can result in a prolonged loss of consciousness, as you experienced. The observed eye closure, vital signs, and lack of symptoms just before the attack all fit. The tilt test results ruled out other potential causes.”

Damn. “What does this mean to me?”

“It means your mind could put you to sleep at any time, and that can be dangerous. You live in New York.” I nodded. “How long are you out here?”

“I’m supposed to be at a week-long training conference in Aspen.”

He nodded and typed on his pad. “You’ll need to find a specialist there who can treat you. We don’t understand your triggers, so we can’t predict or prevent the next event. If this was the first one, more may be coming your way. I don’t want you driving or operating heavy machinery until your specialist clears you.”

I wasn’t going to tell anyone that the trigger was touching the skin of a woman who showed her demonic form. “I understand.”

He finished typing. “The nurse will be in shortly to give you the discharge instructions. If you have more episodes of loss of consciousness, even for a few seconds, go to the emergency room.”

Thirty minutes later, Samuel was driving me back to Aspen. We were listening to a news-talk station on Sirius when I heard the anchor speak my name. “The retired Boston Police detective was a customer at the restaurant when the robbery occurred. Witnesses reported that he opened fire on one of the armed robbers, striking him three times in the back as the victim aimed his shotgun at responding police. Police released John Miller after questioning, but community outrage is building over what some call the ‘unprovoked and cowardly execution’ of a black man. Police groups have lauded the former cop for taking action to end the shootout without further bloodshed.”

Shit.

John Miller’s POV

Denver, Colorado

Tuesday, December 5, 2022

Poked, prodded, scanned, interviewed, and monitored. By noon, the doctors still had no idea why I passed out and remained unconscious for hours. The cardiologist ordered a tilt test where I laid flat in a bed, then raised it to near-standing while the EKG and vitals sensors ran. The test ruled out blood pressure changes or heart conditions being the cause.

The neurologist was next. He gave me a thorough neurological test while I sat on the bed, then covered my test results. The MRI showed no causal evidence of stroke, brain damage, or epilepsy that could result in the prolonged attack. “Sudden loss of consciousness scenarios are typically brief, lasting only a few seconds. Lacking head trauma, an episode lasting more than a minute is rare.” Doctor Petersen told me as he sat by my bed. “Your case is interesting due to the hours of unconsciousness and the lack of causal physical symptoms. The clinic started monitoring your vitals within a minute. Your blood pressure and heart rate were significantly elevated initially before returning to normal, yet you didn’t wake.”

“I felt fine up to the event, and I feel fine now,” I replied. “I’ve never had this happen before, and I have no idea what caused this.”

“Have you lost consciousness before?”

“Sure, many times,” I told him. “You don’t fight MMA without getting choked out on occasion. It’s never been for more than a few seconds, though. I was knocked out cold playing high school hockey and got hit with a two-by-four in the back of the head while on patrol once.” We discussed my hobby and training with the Boston Police, plus my hockey career. “How many concussions would you say you have had?”

“Three diagnosed, those two and once after a college hockey game. I bet there were another three to five that weren’t,” I said. “Nobody wants to come out of the game just because they got their bell rung.”

“When was your last fight?”

“Saturday afternoon. The referee stopped the fight in the second round after I knocked him on his ass.”

“Did you take any hits to the head or neck?”

I nodded. “My defense was good, so nothing was hard enough to hurt me.”

He made a few notes. “Are you aware of the effects of concussions on the health of your brain?”

I nodded. “I’ve seen the stories about it.”

He brought up one of my scans on his tablet computer. “The MRI showed potential scarring in your brain that could be from previous trauma. The damage is old and outside those brain areas related to sleep and cardiac function, but it is concerning. I would strongly recommend changing your training to eliminate sparring and cranial impacts. The grappling shouldn’t be an issue, but the effects of the impacts are cumulative.”

It was another one of those things that I loved that I couldn’t do anymore, and that hurt. “I understand. Thanks, Doc.”

After lunch, they brought in the shrink. “The other doctors are unable to find a physical cause for your episode, so they’ve asked me to speak to you about other possibilities,” Dr. Howard said. “Have you ever had a panic attack, John?”

“Not that I know of. I’ve been in a lot of high-stress situations in my life but had nothing more than the adrenaline crash.”

“Tell me about the most recent one.”

I told him the story about the robbery on Saturday. “The whole time I sat at the table, I was calm and focused. I kept my girlfriend behind me, and her daughter was safe out of sight. The police were coming soon, so I figured the punks would give up or run off. When he opened up with the shotgun, I took him out fast. The part that worried me was when the cops rushed the door.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have a badge, guns are involved, and accidents can happen. The officers secured the scene and figured out what happened. When the adrenaline crash came, I knew how to deal with it.”

“You’ve been in shootings before?”

I nodded. “Seven times in twenty years, three fatal. I took a round through the leg in one encounter and one to the vest in another. So, yeah, I’ve faced death before. I knew my girls were safe, and nobody got hurt that didn’t deserve it, so I was good.”

“Were you ever diagnosed with post-traumatic stress?”

“No. Of course, cops won’t admit to that even if they are feeling the effects. Nobody wants to end up on the rubber-gun squad.”

“Do you think you’ve had it?”

“It’s hard to tell. The job is full of stress, and I saw things in Homicide no one should have to remember. My marriage imploded, I became an alcoholic, and I almost ate my gun a few times when I bottomed out. My friends helped me through it. I’ve been sober for eight years now, and I’m in a good relationship now. I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

He jotted down some notes. “Tell me about the time leading up to when you passed out.”

I gave some background before describing how I went from shaking hands to waking up in the hospital. “Like I told the others, I don’t know why I reacted that way.”

“There are booby traps inside our minds,” Doctor Howard replied. “Anything can be a trigger; a smell, a look, even a touch,” he said. “Something tripped a trigger at that moment, and the result was your brain shutting down. Essentially, your mind puts you to sleep. It might have acted to protect you from something or as the result of a previous traumatic event.”

“What could be the trigger?”

“I’m not sure we will know,” he replied.

“So what happened to me?”

“I don’t have enough for a definitive diagnosis based on a single episode, John. I believe you may have a condition called Psychogenic Pseudosyncope, or PPS. It can result in a prolonged loss of consciousness, as you experienced. The observed eye closure, vital signs, and lack of symptoms just before the attack all fit. The tilt test results ruled out other potential causes.”

Damn. “What does this mean to me?”

“It means your mind could put you to sleep at any time, and that can be dangerous. You live in New York.” I nodded. “How long are you out here?”

“I’m supposed to be at a week-long training conference in Aspen.”

He nodded and typed on his pad. “You’ll need to find a specialist there who can treat you. We don’t understand your triggers, so we can’t predict or prevent the next event. If this was the first one, more may be coming your way. I don’t want you driving or operating heavy machinery until your specialist clears you.”

I wasn’t going to tell anyone that the trigger was touching the skin of a woman who showed her demonic form. “I understand.”

He finished typing. “The nurse will be in shortly to give you the discharge instructions. If you have more episodes of loss of consciousness, even for a few seconds, go to the emergency room.”

Thirty minutes later, Samuel was driving me back to Aspen. We were listening to a news-talk station on Sirius when I heard the anchor speak my name. “The retired Boston Police detective was a customer at the restaurant when the robbery occurred. Witnesses reported that he opened fire on one of the armed robbers, striking him three times in the back as the victim aimed his shotgun at responding police. Police released John Miller after questioning, but community outrage is building over what some call the ‘unprovoked and cowardly execution’ of a black man. Police groups have lauded the former cop for taking action to end the shootout without further bloodshed.”

Shit.