I am excited to share the opening portions of Breathe with you. Let me know how you like it. Russ
PROBLEM
I am awake and I cannot breathe.My mind is telling my body to breathe; I can feel my vocal cords trying toseparate so that I can breathe. I can feel my throat trying to pull open sothat I can breathe. I can feel my lungs straining and my ribcage and themuscles around them pulling, pulling, pulling. Come on, breathe!
I could not breathe. It soundsso simple, the brain tells the vocal cords to pull open so you can breathe.Diaphragm pulls down so you can breathe. But I could not breathe. Panic. Whatdo I do?
Remember your training, I tellmyself. The doctor said that you can pass out and when you pass out your throatwill relax and you’ll be able to breathe. It sounds so simple. Remember, theysaid sit down so you don’t fall and hurt yourself, and prepare to pass out.Sounds good on paper, but in reality, it’s a whole other challenge. You see, rationallyI can keep myself calm for about two and a half minute, maybe a little longer.I can stay calm. After that the body, the desire to live, this incrediblemachine, this organism that is us, the will to live that is within us, takesover – quicker breaths, stronger muscle contractions. The pull is so strong Ithink my voice, my larynx, is going to collapse. My airway, my throat, is goingto implode from the desire and from the body pulling, pulling open, and tryingto breathe. What do I do?
I miss my family.
Where am I? That’s right, NewOrleans, in a hotel off the West Bank Expressway. What do I do? I could call911 from my cell phone. They could find the hotel using GPS, but they can’tfind my room. I can’t speak so I can’t tell them the room number. What else canI do? I can’t call the front desk – same problem. I can’t breathe, I can’tspeak. They probably would think I knocked the phone over in my sleep or maybe they’dthink I had too much to drink. Either way, I know they’re not going to payattention. So, no help from the hotel, and emergency responders won’t be ableto find me. I had better sit down. “Stay calm,” I tell myself. “You have alwayscome out of this in the past.” Panic.My rational brain says stay calm, but my body and my desire to live, to breathe,says inhale.
Pain, burning pain, killer,burning pain. I am sitting down by my bed so if I pass out I won’t fall to thefloor. I try to spit so there’s nothing in my mouth. That way, if the vocalcords do open after I pass out, nothing will block them. I place some pillowson either side of me to help me stay sitting. If there’s drainage, I want it togo in the right direction. I don’t want to lie down and have my tongue or otherthings block that potential opening. It’s getting dark, dark all around me.Panic. The fear is rising. I know my eyes are huge. This must be what it’s liketo die alone in a hotel room. I had always read about those guys; I neverthought I would be that guy. Fire in my chest. My body is taking over. Panichas set in and I will do anything to breathe. I’m not thinking rationallyanymore. This is it.
And then, suddenly, a pinholeopening, nothing more than a pinhole but air is coming in. I can barely exhale,just the tiniest amount of air, but it felt like a wind tunnel. Another minute,the pinhole opening has turned into a pencil-tip opening and in my world that’san order of magnitude beyond description – exponentially large. Finally, the openingin my throat is the size of that straw used to stir coffee.
I can breathe, I can breathe, Ican breathe. I try to stand up, but I can’t. I’m shaking. I’m sweating. I can’tfunction. I can’t call my wife. But maybe that’s O.K. I don’t want to scare herin the middle of the night. “I’ll just sit here for a while,” I think tomyself. And there I sat for several hours, grateful to be alive, grateful tobreathe.
