In the summer of 1983 I was in Portland, Maine, with my family. We’d just spent the afternoon walking around the downtown and enjoying a rousing jazz festival. The day was sultry; a warm breeze blew in from the Atlantic, carrying with it the scents of the sea. I should have been having fun, but I felt woozy. My teeth tingled and my vision blurred. I broke out in a cold sweat… and that’s where my memory gets hazy.

I’m told a nurse who happened to be there that day helped my family get me into an air-conditioned building; remove my fashionable-but-warm sweater vest (remember, this was the 80s); and give me sips of cool water. The attention, while embarrassing for a teenager, probably saved my life. I was experiencing heat exhaustion. If not treated properly, heat exhaustion can lead to heat stroke — a life-threatening situation.