It’s taken me a long time before I felt ready to talk about this, but I think I’m finally at a point that I can get it down.
About a month ago, maybe a little more, I had an allergy attack. I don’t even know what triggered it.
I was in the bathroom and I started coughing. I didn’t think anything of it. It’s cold and allergy season, you know? But then the coughing wouldn’t stop. My lungs felt…itchy almost. My chest was getting tight, as if I didn’t have enough room to pull in a full breath.
Or even a half breath.
The coughing got worse. My throat hurt with how rough they were coming.
I couldn’t breathe.
There was this sudden thought that it might be a really good idea to sit. I’d been holding on to the side of the shower and just slid down to the floor right there.
I took the fast acting allergy tablets my Allergist instructed. I’d even taken benadryl just in case. The coughs, the shortness of breath, came still, unimpeded.
Daddy Maxwell finally ran to get my EpiPen. It was the first time I would need to use it and I debated if I was just thinking of it too seriously. Maybe…Maybe I was just being dramatic?
Every breath I managed came out wheezing, grasped desperately between hacking coughs. I gagged on it, nothing but spittle falling onto the bath mat.
The sting of the needle piercing my upper thigh rang through the haze. My head spun with dizziness when I turned to look back at him in the doorway.
He thought it was a panic attack but I knew better. I’d had panic attacks before and never like this. Never one that made me afraid like this.
Because I was. I was afraid.
I was f**king terrified.
Reminders of falling oxygen levels and how it can take only a short time of too little air to the brain to cause permanent damage.
My airways began to open again. Breathing came easier and easier. The coughing slowed. It didn’t feel like I had lungs filled with tar anymore. With easier breaths came thought and reasoning back to the fore. The fear began to set in. My Allergist’s instruction to always seek immediate emergency care after an Epi use danced with newfound anxiousness within me.
‘Should I go to the hospital?‘ I wondered.
Maybe Daddy Maxwell was right though. Maybe it was just panic and I would have been totally fine. What if I was just being silly? Making too big a deal out of it. Maybe it would be fine.
Maybe I would be…be fine.
I raised my arms to have him help me up.
‘Bed, please…‘ I just wanted to lay down somewhere dark and quiet. Somewhere safe.
My whole body was shaking. My shoulder twitched with the Epi rush to my muscles.
The tightness in my chest had eased but still remained a pressure on my lungs. The coughing still came every minute or so.
Maybe it was stupid not to go to the hospital. My best friend, Rae, would be furious with me. No doubt my therapist would be angry too. But maybe it was okay! Maybe it would all be fine!
Maybe it wouldn’t be.
I was so tired. So, so bone-deep exhausted. My head throbbed and all I could imagine doing was laying down. Letting myself drift into sleep for a little while.
Stronger than the exhaustion, though…was the fear.
My hands started shaking, but not because of the injection. Tears started to fall before I could even try to control them.
‘What’s wrong?’
A grinding cough before…
‘I don’t want to die this way…’
I began to sob and Daddy Maxwell came back to my side. He stood so awkwardly as if unsure what he should do or where his place should be. My tears did not help the weight on my chest but gently, he helped ease me to lying down before I could start wheezing again.
I remember when Little ran in. I was afraid for her to see me like that, to see me struggling…clawing for breath in a fight against my own body. Yet, in that moment, all I wanted to do was hug her. To kiss her.
What if not going to the hospital was the wrong thing? What if I went to sleep and didn’t wake back up? What if I started coughing again and we didn’t make it to the hospital in time?
I gave her a hug and a kiss, told her I loved her, and Daddy Maxwell sent her from the bedroom in a hushed whisper.
‘You aren’t going to die.’
How could he know? How could he be certain?
We agreed that if I started coughing again we would go. He let me lay down in the cool quiet of the bedroom. The anxiety, unfortunately, did not go.
I was petrified to fall asleep. Terrified that my airways would close again and I would choke on my own vomit or something similarly horrifying. I’d never been afraid of death before. To me, it had simply been a transition to a new form rather than a goodbye. A metamorphosis rather than a loss.
When standing down the very real fear of your own, though…it’s a little more difficult to face it with such peace.
‘Embrace it‘ came a voice suddenly from within me, compassionate and silky.
Sweet and smooth like some exotic chocolate.
Why this didn’t alarm me, I couldn’t say, but in that moment, I didn’t think to question it. Even now, sitting here and typing this, the thought just doesn’t feel important.
Strangely, a warm calm spread over my mind in that instant. It reminded me of dipping your head beneath water, how all of the sound smooths out and dims.
I drifted quickly into sleep and woke two hours later, alive if not somewhat pensive about the experience.
As a chronic illness patient, I made my advanced directive ages ago as a preparation for that final event, whenever it should occur. This experience made me rethink the plans that I had made then.
Where would Little Maxwell’s place be in the events of my death? Would she even have a place? What would help her heal the best after I was gone?
Have you ever considered what your final wishes are? What do you picture your ideal, ‘good death’ looking like? What role would you want your loved ones to play?
It’s a difficult thing to think about but in the event that you begin to transition into death, an advanced directive can make a world of difference to your family and friends. Would your spouse or partner be able to access the funds they would need to live on and pay for your funeral? What funeral would you like to have?
The stress of providing and paying for a funeral and burial that they feel is respectful and worthy of you can be a massive, massive weight on your loved ones.
These aren’t easy things to think about let alone talk about with your partner or family but we have to. It is so important to have these things in order when you go. Wouldn’t it be easier to go to your final rest, knowing that your wishes are understood and your family is taken care of? It’s something to think about. After all, you never know when you could get into an accident or even just start choking for seemingly no freaking reason.
I’m not bitter or annoyed at all.
Nope. Not a bit.
That was my terrifying experience with anaphylaxis recently. For more on advanced directives, the Ask A Mortician YouTube channel has a great set of videos on practical death advice such as low cost funeral options, how to talk to your loved ones about death, etc. that I will link below! I hope none of you ever have to experience anything similar to what I did but if you do, the ass-chewing I got afterward can confirm: Go to the f**king hospital.
With Peace and Passion.
Ta!
Resources!
Protecting Your Children’s Future on NPR: https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5623663?storyId=5623663
Little Journeys Everywhere 