Pretty Helmet

We spent a wonderful Saturday at a friends house grilling hot dogs, blowing bubbles with the kids, and watching the dogs sit on each other like some weird frat prank. Overall a great day.

I should take a moment and rewind to the previous Monday. With the warmer temperatures and the pollen overload I was having a pretty difficult time with my seasonal allergies. So much so that I thought I was getting a sinus infection. I went to the local urgent clinic where I was diagnosed with Micoplasma (walking pneumonia). I was given a nebulizer treatment, a steroid shot, cough syrup, and a Z-pack. Sometimes you just need to listen to your body. I am quick to dismiss symptoms as “oh it’s just a cold”. Or “darn these allergies!”. I am glad I didn’t this time.

So, back to Saturday. We had an uneventful remainder of the evening. I even went out to pick up gyros for dinner. Sometime around 9:30 I could feel my chest tightening. I lied down on the couch to relax a bit but to no avail. I began to hear a crackle and wheeze followed by a gurgling in my chest. The more I tried to relax the harder it became to push air in and out of my lungs. Soon I was struggling to take each breath, having to close my eyes and visualize air coming in and air going out. The rise and fall of my lungs ached against my ribs. I couldn’t even call out to Kevin, who was in the kitchen cleaning up dinner.

What seemed a lifetime, Kevin came into the living room to see me hurting. He stared at me, unable to comprehend that his wife was in trouble. “Do you want to go to the hospital?” he asked? A single tear welled into my eye because yes, this is bad. I managed to wheeze “call Mom”. Kevin explained the situation to Dad and they were at our house in 15 minutes. While my Dad called my sister Karen, an ICU nurse, Mom and Kevin made a makeshift humidifier for me. The hot steam felt good, but was not working. I finally asked to be taken to the ER.

One thing about the ER, if you say you are having difficulty breathing or having any type of chest pain, you will be immediately taken past triage and into a room. The nurse put me in a wheelchair and as he rolled me down the hall he noticed the raggedness of my breath. “Are you asthmatic?!” I couldn’t even manage a word, but just shook my head no. Kevin had to answer all of the questions for me. I could thumbs up or down on yes or no questions, but any detail into my medical history was fielded by Kevin. All the time I am being questioned, I am live-wired to an ECG, a oxygen canula is inserted in my nose, and a pulse-ox on my finger. All of this in a 10 minute time span. I cannot remember if they immediately administered a nebulizer or if the doctor saw me first. It was a huge blur. I do remember getting a portable X-Ray and thanking my stars I didn’t have to be taken somewhere else in the hospital without Kevin. Once the doctor reviewed the film I received a second nebulizer treatment and a steroid shot in the hip. A VERY painful shot at that. It made my entire leg cramp up and for the first time I felt like I could scream.

The doctor came in and went over his findings: no full lobal pneumonia, most likely a bronchial attack brought on by the micoplasma. He asked if I felt well enough to go home and I emphatically said yes. I was tired. I wanted to be at home, in my bed, close to Hannie. I was discharged with enough medication to start my own pharmacy and instructions to follow up with my physician on Monday. Time lapse: 3 hours. Not too bad for a Saturday night in the ER.

Sunday is my parent’s day with Hannie and they took her to the zoo. I literally slept all day, save for eating some breakfast. I embraced this rest. I revelled in it. Occassionally I would wake for a moment in a cold-sweat, thinking I couldn’t breathe, but all was fine. I am fine. And my family and the good people at St. Vincent’s Hospital are all good in my book.

my mind is not the sharp tack it once was. i used to be a star at remembering names and faces. spelling words and reciting poems were my forte’. now i barely remember where i left my glasses (they’re on my face) or that i have put the remote control in the refrigerator and the milk in the cabinet with the dishes. one thing i AM good at remembering is where Hannie leaves her forty million teeny, tiny doll shoes. and the last time she pooped (it was yesterday at 6:29 p.m.). did she take a My Little Pony to school today? no, but she did every day last month.

i’m not sure if at the ripe old age of 33 that i’m starting to lose my short term memory or if it was all those fun things i did in college. did i destroy a few brain cells? i will neither confirm nor deny. i plead the fifth. no comment. please direct such inquiries to my public relations manager, Brock Von Squishee, Esquire.

to be honest, now i can’t remember where i was even going with this. damn. if you see me walking, dead-eyed around Highland Avenue it is probably because i cannot remember where i left my car. or where i live.

wednesday, april 27th, kevin and i were awakened by tornado sirens. i was non-plussed as i have never seen an actual tornado hit birmingham. it just doesn’t happen. there is something about the topography of Red Mountain that acts as a buffer to our tiny big city. the day started just like any other day. i got up, showered, got Hannie up, fed her, got us all out the door on time. it was incredibly windy but by the time i parked the car at Hannie’s school, things had lightened up.

when i arrived at work my boss and i were chatting about the early morning storm. she mentioned that what we experienced would pale in comparison to what we were in for that evening. i was confused. i had heard nothing about impending dangerous weather. i didn’t even realize the damage that the early morning storm had done. quickly, i logged onto the internet and there were constant streams of information from NOAA about the super cells of storms headed our way. what was to be a normal wednesday turned into a 12 hour panic attack.

i couldn’t breathe. my heart was beating uncontrollably. my stomach was in knots. all i could think about was Hannie at school on top of the mountain and my parents in their spacious 35 foot RV. images of the RV swirling in a tornado flashed through my mind. i called my mother and pleaded with her to go to our house for shelter. we were still 5 hours from any major activity, yet i was lining up the troops. information from news stations kept flying in. kevin called and said they were closing his office at 1 p.m. and would pick up Hannie and take her home. i felt a small shroud lifted. atleast she’ll be with him. let her be safe in his arms.

and then.

it hit. a tornado hit the city of Cullman. a sleepy town 60 miles to our north. we watched it on our conference room television live from a traffic camera. the meteorologist just stood there, mouth agape. we were silent. panic was tightening my chest and tears began to form in my eyes. i looked away. it was 3 p.m. now and rumors of closing the building were circulating. my boss decided to close our office at 3:30 p.m.

once i was home the panic washed away. i had my family with me and all of the reports were telling us the storms were headed in a northern pattern. we walked around the neighborhood a little and let Hannie swing on “aunt” michelle’s porch swing. i timidly kept checking the sky and it was turning darker. we went inside to check the weather and to much of our surprise our iron giant, Red Mountain could not keep the danger away. impact was targeted directly on us. i welcomed the panic this time.

i called my parents and told them to get to our house “NOW”. kevin and i began gathering candles, important papers, medicine, blankets, Hannie’s favorite stuff animals, leashes for the dogs, the cat’s collar. i filled up Hannie’s juice cup and downed a glass of wine. i could not take an anti-anxiety pill for it would knock me on my behind. i needed my wits about me, but i also needed to calm down. my parents arrived just as the sky turned green. the satellite went out and the power flickered. we headed to the basement. all of us tuned into some sort of radio or smart device.

the tornado, a one and a half mile wide monster, missed us by 6 miles. i checked my iphone and the radar was blank. no reds or greens or yellows. just blank. we went back up stairs and it was all over.

we fed Hannie dinner while we kept updates on what exactly happened. i was numb. i just stared out the window. the sun began shining through a thin veil of clouds. but the sun was on the wrong side of the sky. my parents packed up their belongings and headed back to their RV to check for any damage. Hannie finished dinner and we got her bathed and in bed. as i sat on our bed i watched the television in horror at the pure size of the tornado that missed us. it was massive. and it took out entire towns. overwhelmed, i cried.

the next morning was overcast, but the clouds burned off quickly. the internet and news stations reported the complete decimation of heavily populated towns. i felt utter sadness and despair as the death and injury count rose throughout the day. the only bright spot was the amazing unity of people coming together to help their neighbors. it was the ebb and flow of the storm. it churned us up and spit us out, only to form a stronger bond.