sae
09-14-2015, 12:00 AM
Things were changing. Ultimately they were going to be good changes. Thursday I had a little cough, felt tired. Thursday night I tried to sleep but everytime I laid down my heart raced. I was afraid that smothering tickle in the back of my throat was something serious. My heart rate woundn't go down. Pound, pound pound. It rose: 97 bpm, 112 bpm, 120 bpm, 146 bpm, and finally 151 where it would stay the rest of the night. I hate panic.
I roused myself from the panic dozing of not quite sleep, fatigue tugging at me with each movement. I had things to do today.
I was busy in spite of the little backache and the damned dry cough. I rode the city bus, trying g hard to ignore the guy dealing Crack over my head. The baggy fell in my lap and I almost swatted it away like a wasp. I said nothing.
I was hot as I waited for the bus to return. I walked briskly to find a place for the bus to see me along the highway. I could have slept right there on the aide of the road. I was so tired.
I made it home, fighting the throng of traffic arriving in anticipation for the college football game. I couldn't breathe so well. I was afraid of all the people, all the eyes, finally I am safe within my walls.
My home is silent save the persistent thud ding on my heartbeat, pounding my chest like an angry catptive. Finally I could rest. Each time my eyes droop my wake coughing. I can't breathe. I haven't been able to quite catch my breath all day. Panic sucks.
Fine, you win brain. I will go to the clinic, beg for a single dose of xanax and be back home to cook dinner. The clinic was closed., oh well, better luck next time.
I walk back to my car, sliding myself carefully into the hot vinyl seat, and cough a little. I see lots of sparkling floaters then everything is quiet. I woke up with my face mashed into the heat melted plastic of the steering wheel, sweat beading along my forehead. This is a stupid place to nap...
An old man on a lawnmower sees me hanging halfway outside my car, slumped over, and is alrmed. He tries to help me out but i was afraid. I thanked him for asking, straightened and drove away. May the ER would give me something to stop the thud ding heartbeat.
There is a woman in the room next to me; she is crying piteously about wrecking her car to her parents. They reassure her, tell her that a few stitches on her scalp aren't going to keep her from looking beautiful on her wedding day. She cries some more.
I desperately want a cigarette, this bitch on the other side of the curtain with her shrill whine bleating is starting to get to me.
"There are so many people here that are just here because they are poor. Like this fat woman next to me I am sure she is just fine. " I am just fine, but you scare me.
"You are being admitted."
"I won't stay for your cardiac watch period. If my cardiac enzymes aren't elevated and you have no advice to offer on getting over this panic attack, I am going home."
"Your heart is racing because it can't pump blood through your lungs, yo uh have a very large pulmonary embolism"
"Fuck you, I have dinner to cook."
"This can easily be fatal if untreated."
I needed to phone a friend.
"Hey, I won't be there to cook dinner tonight. No, nothing bad, just stuff. More later." I lied.
Each time I breathe it feels like I am taking my last breath. My lungs ache. I keep squirming under the hospital blanket. There is no comfort to be had when you think there is good chance you will die. I still can't really sleep. That was kinda what i came for .
My own skin doesn't fit no more. It is itchy and loose, lined with fiberglass and sand spurs. I want to run away. I want to go back home, in my walls, away. Not here, hooked to oxygen and an iv bag, peered on like a sickly zoo tiger with tenuous gazes as if they half expect to find me dead.
I am so afraid right now I can barely weep. I am so... afraid. Good night.
I roused myself from the panic dozing of not quite sleep, fatigue tugging at me with each movement. I had things to do today.
I was busy in spite of the little backache and the damned dry cough. I rode the city bus, trying g hard to ignore the guy dealing Crack over my head. The baggy fell in my lap and I almost swatted it away like a wasp. I said nothing.
I was hot as I waited for the bus to return. I walked briskly to find a place for the bus to see me along the highway. I could have slept right there on the aide of the road. I was so tired.
I made it home, fighting the throng of traffic arriving in anticipation for the college football game. I couldn't breathe so well. I was afraid of all the people, all the eyes, finally I am safe within my walls.
My home is silent save the persistent thud ding on my heartbeat, pounding my chest like an angry catptive. Finally I could rest. Each time my eyes droop my wake coughing. I can't breathe. I haven't been able to quite catch my breath all day. Panic sucks.
Fine, you win brain. I will go to the clinic, beg for a single dose of xanax and be back home to cook dinner. The clinic was closed., oh well, better luck next time.
I walk back to my car, sliding myself carefully into the hot vinyl seat, and cough a little. I see lots of sparkling floaters then everything is quiet. I woke up with my face mashed into the heat melted plastic of the steering wheel, sweat beading along my forehead. This is a stupid place to nap...
An old man on a lawnmower sees me hanging halfway outside my car, slumped over, and is alrmed. He tries to help me out but i was afraid. I thanked him for asking, straightened and drove away. May the ER would give me something to stop the thud ding heartbeat.
There is a woman in the room next to me; she is crying piteously about wrecking her car to her parents. They reassure her, tell her that a few stitches on her scalp aren't going to keep her from looking beautiful on her wedding day. She cries some more.
I desperately want a cigarette, this bitch on the other side of the curtain with her shrill whine bleating is starting to get to me.
"There are so many people here that are just here because they are poor. Like this fat woman next to me I am sure she is just fine. " I am just fine, but you scare me.
"You are being admitted."
"I won't stay for your cardiac watch period. If my cardiac enzymes aren't elevated and you have no advice to offer on getting over this panic attack, I am going home."
"Your heart is racing because it can't pump blood through your lungs, yo uh have a very large pulmonary embolism"
"Fuck you, I have dinner to cook."
"This can easily be fatal if untreated."
I needed to phone a friend.
"Hey, I won't be there to cook dinner tonight. No, nothing bad, just stuff. More later." I lied.
Each time I breathe it feels like I am taking my last breath. My lungs ache. I keep squirming under the hospital blanket. There is no comfort to be had when you think there is good chance you will die. I still can't really sleep. That was kinda what i came for .
My own skin doesn't fit no more. It is itchy and loose, lined with fiberglass and sand spurs. I want to run away. I want to go back home, in my walls, away. Not here, hooked to oxygen and an iv bag, peered on like a sickly zoo tiger with tenuous gazes as if they half expect to find me dead.
I am so afraid right now I can barely weep. I am so... afraid. Good night.