November 4, 2002 started out as a typical day. After working on a writing project in the morning, I went for a run. Later, after a shower, I was eating lunch (a tasty Chutney Chicken sandwich from the Wild Oats Bakery — my favorite then and today) when my wife Tina walked in. She’d just swum 60 laps at the Bowdoin College pool. “I have the strangest feeling…I feel like I swallowed a big pill, and it got stuck.”

She sat down on the couch, looking pale and disoriented. “My hands feel funny. The ceiling is starting to spin around.”

I said, “Let’s go straight to the Emergency Room.” Tina protested, noting our high deductible ($5,000) health insurance. I said, “(Expletive deleted) that!” And off we went to Parkview Hospital, just five minutes away.

The ER medical people sprang into action, administering nitroglycerin and, soon after, a clot buster. “We’re trying to stabilize her condition,” said the doctor. Minutes passed. More pain. More “Guys, this hurts!” from Tina.

And then, less than fifteen minutes after our arrival at the ER, her heart stopped. A nurse said to me, “You probably want to go to another room.”

I went out to the lobby to call Tina’s two sons, although I didn’t know what to tell them at that point. Half an hour later, the ER doctor came out and said, “Well, she made it.”

I later learned what it took to help Tina “make it.” Her heart had stopped, and it required CPR and six — repeat six — shocks with defibrillators to get her heart beating. Someone told Tina later that if the heart doesn’t resume beating after three or four shocks, it usually doesn’t . Basically, Tina’s heart hadn’t been beating on its own for 15 minutes.

Tina is fine today, 12 years later. In fact, she was fine the day after her heart attack as she whipped through the NYTimes crossword puzzle in a flash. All the tests after the “event” revealed that her heart was in good shape; she’d probably had a blood clot. She now takes an aspirin daily and some heart medications, but other than that she’s good to go anywhere and do anything.

Tina was lucky. We were lucky. If I hadn’t been home when she returned from her swim at Bowdoin, she wouldn’t have gone to the hospital and, as a result, she would have died. But I’m no hero in this story; I did what any spouse or friend would do in such a situation. The ER people were the heroes, especially the husky male nurse who so skillfully administered the CPR and the defibrillator.

Here’s another story with a much less happy ending. The year was 1952, and I was in the sixth grade. As a a member of the safety patrol, I got to take a train trip from Parkersburg, West Virginia to Washington, D.C. After a good day of sightseeing, we boarded the train for the long ride home. Several hours later, in the middle of the night, the lights came on in the train. And, inexplicably, the train slowed to a stop and then it began to back up. We didn’t know what was happening, but we found out later. One of the boys had slept walked right off the train to his death. His mother had come along on the trip as a chaperone. You don’t forget events like this. I even remember the boy’s name: Charles Brayden. I remember the empty pit in my stomach when my mother told me the news the next morning.

The lessons? What a slender thread we hold. The bus is waiting just around the corner. Every person reading this column knows someone who suddenly and unexpectedly lost a parent, a spouse, a sibling, a friend or, worst of all, a child. Tina’s own father died of a heart attack at age 46 while working in the woods near their home on Mere Point Road. Her brother Geoff, age 10 at the time, was with him.

Here’s the dilemma. We can spend our days, especially those of us in our later years, worried about what might happen at any moment, walking on eggshells, trying to grip the slender thread as tightly as possible. Big mistake. Bad things happen. Good people die. If we’re constantly trembling in our boots and looking over our shoulders, then we might as well cut the thread ourselves. We’ve already shut down.

Heres’ a better choice. Accept that bad things happen. Know that life is unfair. No higher power, no amount of prayer, will forever shield us and our loved ones from harm — or death. Take deep breaths. Remember what matters. Do you really need that latest hi-tech goo-haw or that brand-name pair of shoes? Do you need to keep up with the Jones or anyone else for that matter? Do you want what’s best for your kids (or grandkids) or what’s best for your ego? How do you want to be remembered when those left behind are speaking the unvarnished truth? And, most important, what if someone dear to you suddenly loses hold of that slender thread?

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David Treadwell, a Brunswick writer, welcomes commentary as well as suggestions on future topics for this “Just a Little Old” column. dtreadw575@aol.com.