SOUL SAP

Fight or Flight

I'm a pretty ridiculous person, and because of that, I assumed that I'd be the worst person to cope during a crisis. I'm dramatic, emotional, and over reactive. I'm the one you call if you want someone to cry WITH you, which I believe to be a very discomforting "gift". I have friends who are so calm, you cannot shake their reserve. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I think I've walked though a spider web and before I know it, I've slapped myself unconscious. An early example of my fight or flight instincts dates back fifteen years ago from when I was working in a small interior design firm. I sat by the window and one day a loud noise occurred that sounded like a round of gun shots in the Office Depot parking lot across the street. It made sense...Office Depot often makes me angry as well, and while I can't say that it has pushed me to attempted homicide, it's very stressful when they are out of your particular ink cartridge.

When the loud popping sound vibrated through our office, the 4 other gals jumped into action and took to the ground, army-crawling to safety. I froze. They all yelled at me in unison, "What are you DOING?! Get down and away from the window!" I stared at their panicked faces hugging the carpet, but I could not move. I saw Eloise crawling towards me, slithering like a California Mountain Snake, and when she got close enough to where her words sounded like fire crackers, I slowly slumped to the ground and hid under my desk. In the time it took me to come to my senses, I'm certain our resident Slovakian was already outfitted with a bullet proof vest, shot gun cocked and in hand. From that moment on, I always wanted to be the fighter, but thought of myself as a coward...a defenseless bird who'd prefer to flee.

A few weeks ago, I got an emergency text from my mom that read, "I can't breathe. I have pneumonia. The doctor thinks I have COVID. Come now." I can't tell you how alarming it is to receive a text like that from your mom. I felt myself starting to spiral downwards and my brother called. Neither one of us had any information except this cryptic text, but we both knew it was life or death because with all of her insane health crises in the past, she has NEVER asked for one of us to come help. I admit to having about a 15 minute complete fucking nervous breakdown. The kind where your face looks like a crime scene and you didn't know you could produce that much snot. I then pulled myself together, booked a one-way flight for the morning, and started packing. I was in a complete daze....do I pack sandals? How hot is it in Arizona in January? Why am I packing thirty pairs of underwear? When you don't know what you are flying into, how long you will be there, or what possible devastation will occur while you are there, many pairs of underwear seem comforting.

I departed my Uber and just stood there, staring at the outside of her house. I knew I had to go into the war zone, but feeling those rays on my face was providing comfort I hadn't felt since I received the emergency text. I walked in, and she was passed out in her recliner. All I could hear was the sound of her wheezing...struggling to get oxygen, and I knew we were in trouble. The only information I had was that her entire left lung was infected and rendered useless. What I wanted to do was take her to the hospital immediately. However, it was explained to me that the doctor she saw the day before told her it would be best to ride it out at home. See, in Arizona, here isn't a state-wide mask mandate. During the time I was there, Arizona ranked #1 in the WORLD for infections. The hospitals were so understaffed and overrun that the exhausted workers were having to make heartbreaking decisions on who could receive care and who couldn't. The doc was afraid she'd be one of those that was left behind. So, it was 100% in my hands to assess her condition and make the decision if she started to decline and indeed needed to go to the hospital. Because apparently I'm a doctor.

The sound of the door shutting woke her and she struggled to get to her feet. We stood 10' apart, and all I wanted to do was hug her, but that wasn't going to be in the cards. She stood in a slightly bent position, and tried filling in the gaps of what happened, but she could only manage one word between each breath. I told her to save her strength, and I put her to bed. I then immediately launched my mission to disinfect the COVID house. While her results hadn't come in yet, the doctor was certain she had COVID-induced pneumonia, so I treated the house like it could kill me at any sign of weakness. Once the house was sanitized, I then went to the grocery store to pack her house full of foods with healing properties, because apparently I'm also a nutritionist. When I walked in, a borderline panic attack set in. Nearly 50% of the people in the grocery store were not wearing masks. Each of those selfish fucktards were walking around with smug looks on their faces, like "You can't make me do ANYTHING. And keep yer hands off my guns!". They also weren't regulating the occupancy numbers in the store, so I was shoulder to shoulder with some of these murderers. As I was shooting eye daggers to a woman who looked like a former Miss Maricopa County pageant winner, I thought to myself, "This is the day I go to jail for assault. That bitch is going down."

By Day 3, we received the test results and they were negative. We both started sobbing...just utter disbelief. Her antibiotics started kicking in for the pneumonia, and she was fighting me less and less on the food. I made her a smoothie one day and she said, "I'm not really a fan of the turmeric. Can you please not put it in next time?" I replied with, "It's good for you...I'll lessen the dose." The next day, "I'm not really very hungry." Me: Not moving until she took the bowl of soup. I felt like a total drill sergeant and I was completely power-tripping. As we sat and ate our soup, we chatted about old stories about the family back in Arkansas, and shared some big laughs...resulting in a bit of a coughing fit. It was then that her facial expression went from semi-joy to absolute fear. Her face turned the color of an eggplant and her eyes were bulging out of her head. I thought, "Oh fuck oh fuck...she's choking. She's going to die." I jumped up and grabbed the soup before it landed in her lap. I was FREAKING OUT on the inside, but tried to remain incredibly cool because I knew seeing me panic was not what she needed.

She truly thought she was going out by way of a lodged green bean in her airway. I ran to get the my phone to call 911, and then I was going to attempt the Heimlich maneuver. It felt like an eternity of silence...and then finally I heard a small gasp of air and a tiny cough. I ran back over to her and she had a napkin held to her mouth, but what I saw next was something out of a horror film. The napkin was soaked in blood. I thought "Oh my God. She is coughing up blood." However just before I reached for my phone again, I realized the blood was coming from her nose. She had burst a capillary because of the pressure in her face from not breathing. I stayed by her side, talking to her softly and coaching her through getting more air into her already compromised lungs. I held her hand, tended to her bloody nose, and eventually her breathing steadied.

I have never been around a choking human being. I have been in health class when they've explained the Heimlich maneuver, but that was in middle school, and I was busy writing "I *heart* David Norton" on my binder instead of paying attention to life-saving techniques. To be honest, when she was choking I wasn't sure I'd be able to lift her. She's about the same size as me now, and she was sunken in the recliner like a sack of potatoes. But looking back, I had so much adrenaline, I could have lifted a train car off of her if needed. After leaving my marriage a year ago, and literally fighting for my life, I realize that in times of crisis, I am much stronger than I ever gave myself credit for. The last year has been like a haunted and abandoned amusement park with a rollercoaster coming off the broken rails, but it's taught me such important lessons about myself. I can do hard things. I can endure. Yeah, I might cry my fucking face off prior to or after taking action, but at least I take action and can handle situations with a level head. I feel so empowered by this notion, but I will still 100% have a stroke if a spider lands in my hair.