My neighbors were firing off a gun last night, rapid succession, one right after another, pop pop pop pop pop, and then a few minutes later, pop pop pop pop pop. This went on for about ten minutes until another neighbor yelled, “Cut that shit out!” One lone pop, and then, silence. This is life in Cut-n-Shoot, Texas.
I don’t know if it’s something inside me or those outside forces again, but the Saturday after Thanksgiving was the worst it’s been. The sickness kept me up most of the night again, but after dousing myself with sinus medication and using my humidifier, my condition only worsened. This morning regimen usually does the trick (albeit temporary), but as morning became noon my inability to breathe grew critical. I couldn’t even walk across the room, talk, or take a sip of water without feeling faint. I just couldn’t breathe. I mean, no air was getting through. It was like having a severe asthma attack, as if being strangled by some unseen fist, and I couldn’t recover. My family threatened to take me to the emergency room, but I couldn’t even move from my chair. Seated in front of the bathroom mirror with my head hovering over the humidifier, I prayed a simple prayer and tried my best not to panic. I sent my mom a text message asking for the over-the-counter asthma medicine, Primatene Mist. She went to three different stores before finding it, but an hour and a half later it did the trick. I tore into that box like a child on Christmas morning. It brought instant relief. I will always keep it on hand from here on out.
While waiting for the medicine, I sat in front of that bathroom mirror and just stared at myself. I listened to the sound of my frantic wheezing as my pale face and tired eyes pleaded for oxygen. I’ve only been that scared two other times in my life: one being “the flood” that started all of this, and the other being an allergic reaction I suffered while horseback riding in Yellowstone. That episode ended with me looking like the Elephant Man, but an overdose of Benadryl eventually did the trick. This time, I don’t know, it wasn’t allergies. The bathroom lights kept popping as I struggled to breathe, mocking me, admonishing me, and strangling me, or so they tried.
December 4, 2022
The Apple and the birdcage 