“Why can’t I breathe?”
The first functions that returned were the most instinctual.
My eyes shot open and absorbed the scene around me. Secondly, I tried to catch my breath.
Why can’t I breathe?
This was possibly the most confounding question I’d ever asked. There are simply categories of questions that you believe would never come to play in your life. Something like “Where did my eyes go?” would never dream to cross my mind, yet there I was, wondering the most essential action of life.
Why. Can’t. I. Breathe?
It took so much resource of my brain, that it took me a while to realize where I was. I was in a hospital room. There were a number of things monitoring my flesh and innards. My body was definitely worse for wear. I couldn’t remember the last thing that happened before I woke up. Most unsettling was something hooked up to my mouth that was acting as a diaphragm. It was inhaling and exhaling at regular intervals. It was breathing for me.
Why can’t I breathe?
My heart rate sped up, indicated by both the machines around me and its desperation to be removed from within my chest. A nurse came in and looked surprised.
“You’re awake?” she asked.
I tried to respond but was blocked by the respirator. I struggled to move, but my body would barely wiggle.
“Hey, hey, calm down. It’s ok, it’s gonna be ok,” she said, slowly approaching with her hands up. She looked at my chest with unease.
“I don’t know if you remember, but you were in a car accident. A drunk driver hit you. This was about two days ago.”
I didn’t remember any of that. I was much too focused on negotiating with my right hand to remove the respirator from impeding my ability to breathe on my own. It crawled upward lethargically, lacking any real energy, and softly began scratching at the machine.
“Oh… no, honey. You can’t take that off. Your…” she thought about her words hard before continuing, “Your lungs have been destroyed. You won’t be able to breathe on your own. Not ever.” She stood by the bed and let the news sink in.
My heart rate greatly exceeded my breathing rate, and the apparatus struggled to keep up. I was no longer an autonomous human being. I would always have to live with this. I couldn’t think of what to say. Even if I could think of something to say, I wouldn’t be able to say it! I simply let the news wash over me, let the emotions run their course as my self-pity hit me with full force. There were plenty of people that were handicapped that lived good lives, but I didn’t want to be one of them. I didn’t want to have to ask a question that no one else had to ask.
Why can’t I breathe?