Although it was only a few days ago, I can barely remember the horrible feeling of my body shutting down on me. I remember what I saw, what I said, and what happened, but the feeling of life seeping out of my body seems like a distant dream. The only way I can remember is to put it into words and ensure I will never forget the day I almost died.
Memorials Day 2009
That morning I went to my part time and returned home to finish lesson planning for the week. Without any other plans after that I worked out in my basement and went to the park to play basketball, apart of my cardio exercise which I was trying to do more often. It was 80 degrees as I shot around at 74, my old junior high school. I remember shooting three straight air balls and noticing a small tweak in my wrist that bothered me throughout the shoot around.
There were three other guys at the park. Two of them were playing each other and the third was shooting around just like me. Around 5 minutes later, the pair that was playing each other asked me to play with them along with the other guy shooting around. Although I hated half court games, I decided it would be good practice. A couple of points into the game and I was already in a heated sweat from head to toe. The game whirled on and my partner and I were getting killed by a guy with no shirt on who seemed to hit every shot he took. With only two more points to go before we lost, I felt a horrible itch on my stomach and neck and arm and head. Instantly, I knew what it was. I caught hives, again from playing basketball. Since the game was almost over I decided to stick it out to the end. With my luck, however, the guy who kept making shots went on a long drought and the game was prolonged more than it should have been. In my attempt to leave fast I let the guy I was guarding hit quick easy shots.
I picked up my car keys and water and sprinted home in my car, scratching my scalp like a lotto ticket. Leaving my wallet and phone in my glove compartment, I rushed into my house and into my shower after I told my mother that I probably caught hives. She went for the benedryl while I turned on the shower.
The water was cold, but any temperature should have calmed my skin but it didn't. In fact, as the water trailed down my body I realized I couldn't breath normally. No matter how hard I tried sucking in the air, it wouldn't process through my lungs. Something was wrong, so I turned off the water, wrapped a towel around my body, and sat on my parent's bed since it was the closest room available.
I looked around at the mirrors in the room. Nothing was reflecting back at me. Or rather, I couldn't see anything. My vision blurred slowly away and a red lense descended over my sight. Everything was in a tint of red as I slowly became blinded by a muddled existance. I yelled to my parents "I need to go to a hospital."
My parents told my brother and sister that we were going to the hospital. My dad was trying to get me to leave but all I could do was sit in the foyer floor and catch my breath. The sunlight from the door was blaring into my eyes. The thought that I might die crept into my mind. Actually, I thought it was a high possibility. My energy was running out and my vision was slowly creeping away. Never had I felt so helpless, so utterly lifeless.
I told my dad to turn on the car and the aircondition, and then come back to get me. I had no energy to stand up. When the car was started, my mom escorted me to the car. By then I could feel the aircondition blowing into my face. My mom told my dad to drive to the medical center on 73rd avenue, only two blocks from my house. We waited at a red light for a minute and then turned in front of the building. My dad double parked, while my mom guided me to the entrance. I saw only parts of the side walk in a red tint as the sunlight still blinded me.
When we got in, we went to the first open counter. The person behind the desk told us to go to the next window and by then I had little energy to walk any more. I sat in a waiting room chair, breathing very hard. My mom grabbed my shoulder, and told me to walk. When we approached the next counter, my mom explained that I needed to see a physician. The person was asking her for my insurance, which upset me to no end. At that point I yelled "I'm going to fucking die if you don't treat me!" With no more energy in my legs I kneeled down on the floor again to conserve energy.
My point was made. The doctors came out and carried me to a room. They laid me out on a bed, inserted the IV, turned on the oxygen tank and proceeded with the initial care. They tried reading my blood preassure several times and even switched apparatuses mid-way. The nurse mixed up my name twice, first calling me Jason and then calling me Joseph. Nothing was showing up and my vision was still in horrible shape. The doctor said my pulse was very low so they gave me a salene shot. Usually I twitch at the sight of needles, but at this point anything they did to me could not have felt worst than I already was feeling.
An ambulance was called apparently, as two paramedics stood in the hallway asking questions to the nurse and doctor that took care of me. My vision suddenly came back as I stared at the white cieling and the picture frame hanging right above me. I said it immediately to everyone that I could see again. They asked me if I remembered what day it was, what happeend to me, and if I felt dizzy or nauseated. I told them everything I knew in a calm polite fashion (or as polite as can be). They put a thermometer in my mouth to check for fever. 97.7. I was in the clear. No flu, no brain fever. A severe allergic attack was concluded. Something at the park triggered a reaction from my body.
For safety purposes, I was transported to NYHQ for further observation. They gave me steroids and benedryl to fight off my still swelled face and body. My mom sat beside me and combed my hair with her fingers. I fell in and out of sleep for two hours. My body shivered uncontrollobly, which the doctor said was from the IV. IV I learned is colder than the normal body temperature, so shivering was a natural reaction. My mom told me she had to see my dad and pick up my change of clothes. She told me "your father is worried too, you know." as if I didn't know already. And maybe I didn't. I lead a pretty astranged relationship with my dad.
I was discharged and ordered by the doctor to see an allergist asap. Although still a little drowsy, I walked out the hospital with sweatpants and a T-shirt, clinging onto my mom for support ready to go back home. I survived Memorials Day 2009, a day that I would never want dedicated to me anytime soon.
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