I watch television with my family when it jumps out and swallows me up. The urge to suck in oxygen overwhelms me, but an unseen might weighs heavy upon my quivering chest. The urge to cry infects my face as my heart punches the inside of my ribs.
I want to ask for help, but I know that nobody can save me. I’m on my own. I slow my breathing and mumble a prayer: maybe God can help me. Save me. Listen to me. But he doesn’t hear my call.
As the blood pumps into my muscles, I grow dizzy and weak. And then it attacks my sight, forcing me to see the world through whirls and blotches of water and fog. My stomach twists. My bones tremble. What have I done to deserve this torture? I must be a bad person, because bad people are tortured for their crimes. I can’t remember what I could have done.
It’s winning. I crumple to my knees and land on my palms, sucking in oxygen even though I know it will feed my foe. My sight blurs as I claw at the carpet. I feel my wife’s hand on the back of my head and her reassuring words in my ear. But I’m dying. Help!
Tears wash around my eyes and tumble down my cheeks. I roll on to my side, accepting that these will be my final minutes. I think about my beautiful wife. My amazing sons. My beloved daughter. My future promises good things, and I have a lot more to give my loved ones.
I close my eyes. I awake the following morning. I’m alive. Breathing. My wife beside me with my daughter tugging at my arm.
Until next time.
I want to ask for help, but I know that nobody can save me. I’m on my own. I slow my breathing and mumble a prayer: maybe God can help me. Save me. Listen to me. But he doesn’t hear my call.
As the blood pumps into my muscles, I grow dizzy and weak. And then it attacks my sight, forcing me to see the world through whirls and blotches of water and fog. My stomach twists. My bones tremble. What have I done to deserve this torture? I must be a bad person, because bad people are tortured for their crimes. I can’t remember what I could have done.
It’s winning. I crumple to my knees and land on my palms, sucking in oxygen even though I know it will feed my foe. My sight blurs as I claw at the carpet. I feel my wife’s hand on the back of my head and her reassuring words in my ear. But I’m dying. Help!
Tears wash around my eyes and tumble down my cheeks. I roll on to my side, accepting that these will be my final minutes. I think about my beautiful wife. My amazing sons. My beloved daughter. My future promises good things, and I have a lot more to give my loved ones.
I close my eyes. I awake the following morning. I’m alive. Breathing. My wife beside me with my daughter tugging at my arm.
Until next time.
RSS Feed