Seraphim on Nostr: (1/2) Some details will be intentionally altered for obvious reasons. These events ...
(1/2)
Some details will be intentionally altered for obvious reasons.
These events transpired during an unspecified time period in my past. My respiratory problems were already in high gear at this point in my life after a gradual decline in my health over the years.
It was mid-afternoon. I was having the usual trouble with my asthma and had laid down for a nap in bed. I woke up to my body being shaken and it seemed like my eyelids weighed a hundred pounds each. I couldn’t keep them open for the life of me and for the longest, my brain was teetering on the edge between asleep and awake. My significant other put an ice cold bottle of water from the fridge against my back and this was enough to finally get me awake.
Once my eyes shot open, I realized how tight my chest was and grabbed my inhaler from under the pillow to take a few puffs. I was still too groggy to really understand what she was saying. She had used my pulse oximeter to get readings while I was asleep and informed me that my o2 had dropped down to 67%, which obviously alarmed her enough to wake me up.
About 20 minutes later, after a couple vials of nebulizer treatment, my oxygen saturation climbed back up to around 77%, which was my normal baseline around this time period. I had gone through several bad asthma attacks in the weeks leading up to this and each time it happened she was terrified. And I guess she had enough.
Her sister was extremely suicidal from depression at this point in time and I was pretty much half-dead already. She told me that she couldn’t handle my medical situation on her own, that she had already talked to her family and the decision had been made to move out. The catch was, we had all been invited to stay there (for as long as we needed to) and she wanted us all to go. Not wanting our family to be separated and trying to be reasonable with the burden that I knew she was carrying, I agreed to do so.
I was too sick and too weak to fight it, anyway. Our savings had been depleted- so, regardless, staying in our apartment wouldn’t be an option. That and I knew my problems were bad enough that I would probably die if I was alone.
The first few months were an improvement to our overall quality of life. She was less overwhelmed and seemed happier. Her sister’s mental health improved. I was still half-dead and walking around the house got me short of breath. I was having to lean on walls to get around. It comforted me to know that if the curtains did close for me, at least my family wouldn’t be alone in the aftermath. It appeared to be the “least-bad” option considering the totality of our circumstances.
It actually seemed like my health might have been improving during this time. Before, I had been burning through new inhalers approximately every 5 days…and now I was getting a little over a weeks’ use out of each one. My o2 readings were hovering closer to 80% saturation with consistency. Until one night I woke up alone in the spare bedroom at her family’s house with extreme shortness of breath. I used my inhaler, then stumbled out of bed and into her sister’s room where the light was on and they had stayed awake talking.
I could barely get a whisper of the words “Call 911” out and began to hyperventilate with faint, shallow breaths to try and get *some* kind of small volume of air through my (almost completely) restricted airway. I tried my best to keep my cool on the outside. I can’t even begin to describe the panic that I felt inside- it was raw and visceral, unlike anything else I had ever experienced up until that point. I had some pretty bad episodes with my asthma leading up to this, but they could at least be managed with inhalers and nebulizer treatments. This time, my inhaler seemed to do absolutely nothing to help. I truly felt like a fish suffocating out of water.
I must have pumped my inhaler 15-20 times trying to desperately open my airway back up. For some strange reason, I felt compelled to go into the hallway bathroom and lean over the sink. I looked around to see that her parents had woken up and were calling an ambulance. I prayed to God and told myself “I don’t want to die like this, I want to stay with my family- I don’t want them to see this happen.” I tried to keep as much of my dignity and outward calm as I could.
Either my lungs or the muscle group controlling them were burning like I had reached the end of a gym workout and maxxed out as many reps as possible. My chest started to feel “heavy” and it seemed like my vision became more “red” with each attempted struggle to breathe in. The edges of my peripheral became darker and darker until it looked like I was inside of a tunnel. I realized that the panic somehow felt distant now in my mind- I actually started to feel sleepy. I blacked out for what seemed like a couple of seconds and came-to on the floor, slumped against the cold tile with a nebulizer mask running on my face. I was breathing again and EMS was just now at the door.
Some details will be intentionally altered for obvious reasons.
These events transpired during an unspecified time period in my past. My respiratory problems were already in high gear at this point in my life after a gradual decline in my health over the years.
It was mid-afternoon. I was having the usual trouble with my asthma and had laid down for a nap in bed. I woke up to my body being shaken and it seemed like my eyelids weighed a hundred pounds each. I couldn’t keep them open for the life of me and for the longest, my brain was teetering on the edge between asleep and awake. My significant other put an ice cold bottle of water from the fridge against my back and this was enough to finally get me awake.
Once my eyes shot open, I realized how tight my chest was and grabbed my inhaler from under the pillow to take a few puffs. I was still too groggy to really understand what she was saying. She had used my pulse oximeter to get readings while I was asleep and informed me that my o2 had dropped down to 67%, which obviously alarmed her enough to wake me up.
About 20 minutes later, after a couple vials of nebulizer treatment, my oxygen saturation climbed back up to around 77%, which was my normal baseline around this time period. I had gone through several bad asthma attacks in the weeks leading up to this and each time it happened she was terrified. And I guess she had enough.
Her sister was extremely suicidal from depression at this point in time and I was pretty much half-dead already. She told me that she couldn’t handle my medical situation on her own, that she had already talked to her family and the decision had been made to move out. The catch was, we had all been invited to stay there (for as long as we needed to) and she wanted us all to go. Not wanting our family to be separated and trying to be reasonable with the burden that I knew she was carrying, I agreed to do so.
I was too sick and too weak to fight it, anyway. Our savings had been depleted- so, regardless, staying in our apartment wouldn’t be an option. That and I knew my problems were bad enough that I would probably die if I was alone.
The first few months were an improvement to our overall quality of life. She was less overwhelmed and seemed happier. Her sister’s mental health improved. I was still half-dead and walking around the house got me short of breath. I was having to lean on walls to get around. It comforted me to know that if the curtains did close for me, at least my family wouldn’t be alone in the aftermath. It appeared to be the “least-bad” option considering the totality of our circumstances.
It actually seemed like my health might have been improving during this time. Before, I had been burning through new inhalers approximately every 5 days…and now I was getting a little over a weeks’ use out of each one. My o2 readings were hovering closer to 80% saturation with consistency. Until one night I woke up alone in the spare bedroom at her family’s house with extreme shortness of breath. I used my inhaler, then stumbled out of bed and into her sister’s room where the light was on and they had stayed awake talking.
I could barely get a whisper of the words “Call 911” out and began to hyperventilate with faint, shallow breaths to try and get *some* kind of small volume of air through my (almost completely) restricted airway. I tried my best to keep my cool on the outside. I can’t even begin to describe the panic that I felt inside- it was raw and visceral, unlike anything else I had ever experienced up until that point. I had some pretty bad episodes with my asthma leading up to this, but they could at least be managed with inhalers and nebulizer treatments. This time, my inhaler seemed to do absolutely nothing to help. I truly felt like a fish suffocating out of water.
I must have pumped my inhaler 15-20 times trying to desperately open my airway back up. For some strange reason, I felt compelled to go into the hallway bathroom and lean over the sink. I looked around to see that her parents had woken up and were calling an ambulance. I prayed to God and told myself “I don’t want to die like this, I want to stay with my family- I don’t want them to see this happen.” I tried to keep as much of my dignity and outward calm as I could.
Either my lungs or the muscle group controlling them were burning like I had reached the end of a gym workout and maxxed out as many reps as possible. My chest started to feel “heavy” and it seemed like my vision became more “red” with each attempted struggle to breathe in. The edges of my peripheral became darker and darker until it looked like I was inside of a tunnel. I realized that the panic somehow felt distant now in my mind- I actually started to feel sleepy. I blacked out for what seemed like a couple of seconds and came-to on the floor, slumped against the cold tile with a nebulizer mask running on my face. I was breathing again and EMS was just now at the door.