It's been one week.

Last Wednesday night, I had a very scary episode. I blew my nose with a Kleenex (big mistake), and had an allergic reaction to whatever “dust” was on it. Not wanting to use another Kleenex, I went and laid back down and “sucked it back up”. I did that while laying down, and it went the wrong way, and into my throat and I started coughing. And I coughed and I kept coughing.

Mom happened to walk by my room then and heard me. She came in to make sure I was okay, but by then it was getting worse and worse. I couldn't stop coughing, because I had to get the stuff out of my throat and then I got scared, because I was having trouble breathing with coughing so much. So I started crying, which loosened everything up and made it worse.

After about 20 minutes of this I was extremely weak from coughing, and gasping for air between trying to cough. My nose was so stuffed that I couldn't breathe through it at all, and I was thrashing in pain and shaking. I wasn’t getting enough oxygen and loosing brain function. It was like I was watching myself from above, but not really being there, yet I knew what was going on.

There were several instances where I couldn’t get air for several seconds, which scared me and made my cry harder. I couldn’t calm myself, even though I didn’t understand why I was so upset, probably something similar to a panic attack. Mom and later on, Dad were there through the whole thing praying, getting stuff, and trying to calm me down (but it wasn’t doing any good).

During one of those times I couldn’t breathe for several seconds, I watched as I started collapsing and losing control over my body. I slumped forward just like you would see someone do on TV. In that split second I had a choice, to keep fighting or give up. I wanted to give up, because I was so weak and tired, but if I did I would stop fighting for air. I choose to keep fighting.

Many times over the last week I have wondered if I should have given up. I might not have died, but I might have. I doubt my chest was strong enough for CPR, but my heart probably would have kept working and I would have passed out. Haven’t gotten my nursing degree yet so I wouldn't know. Lol

But the decision felt like life and death, so forget the medical, that’s what it’s like to me in my mind. I choose life, but since I want to die daily, I sometimes wish I had chosen different. And if it happens again, I don’t know that’d I would choose the life again.

No, I’m not suicidal, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to die. Sometimes the pain is just too much. I don’t think I’d have the guts to kill myself anyways.

I daily regret the decision I made, but there are other moments I am glad I chose what I did. Life is so complicated, messy, and beautiful.

I’m just glad I don’t have that decision to make any time I want. I’ll let God take care of it!

And in case you were wondering, the episode lasted for about 45 min total (felt so much longer). Mom did ask if she should call an ambulance once or twice, but I said no, probably because I didn’t want to deal with the Lyme issue at the ER, plus it would take 10+ min for the ambulance to get here. It finally ended by me gagging myself to get all the gunk out, drinking hot lemon honey water, and breathing steam from hot water. It took another hour or so to calm down, and in the next few days I had “panic attacks” almost anytime I thought about it. It was scary for sure, but God brought me through. <3