I don't really want to write about this, because it has been haunting me for the past 24 hours straight. But maybe if I write it down, it will leave me alone when I lay down to sleep tonight...
Yesterday afternoon my brother Trey had a severe allergic reaction and went into an anaphylactic shock, while he was driving. My brother Nick and I were with him. We were in my dad's car, in the left lane. Trey took a sip of my lime slushie... and I don't know what was in it, but after that he couldn't breathe.
So many things happened in the next minute that I can't really remember the sequential order. At first he tried to cough, then looked like he was gagging. He was sweating, his face was red and he wasn't making a sound. He was waving his hands toward his face, making a gesture that he needed air. I kept telling him to pull over and slow down. He was totally unresponsive. By this point, he looked like he was about to pass out. We thought he could be choking, so Nick tried to give him the Heimlich. I knew if he lost consciousness before the car stopped we would all be in danger of getting in an accident. In retrospect, I should have grabbed the wheel, but I did not. I don't know why. Somehow (and I really don't know how) he moved the car over into a turn lane. Once I put the car in park, he slumped against the door, head out the window, a stream of bile and slushie slid down the car door. We moved him over into the grass on the side of the road. By now he was spitting, gagging still, but he was breathing again. When he could finally talk, we gave him some water. He said it felt like his throat had closed. He didn't remember much of what actually happened from the when he drank the slushie to when he was standing outside of the car.
Panic is a strange sensation. Time both slows and speeds in the same instant. I really thought I was watching my brother die. I had flashes of the car careening off the road. And the irrational fleeting thought of, "Dad will be so mad. This is his company car, and he told us to be careful. We're not insured to drive this car, and he'll get in trouble." A fear that intense can be paralyzing. My whole body shook for at least ten minutes afterward.
Later, when I was alone, the magnitude of the situation hit me. And I just started to cry and mutter, like a crazy homeless person, "thank you god, thank you god, thank you god." It could have ended so much worse. Sometimes it takes things like that to shake you, and remind you of how precious life truly is. I guess all my mom's prayers to guardian angels over the years have paid off. Words can't describe my gratitude.
My advanced apology if vulgarity offends you... but I came across this article, which reminded me how sincerely I appreciate freedom of speech. [Note: some of the comments beneath the article are equally entertaining.] More specifically, for the granddaddy of all curse words, the f-bomb — both for its verbally pleasing quality (it can be like hitting a punching bag, when there isn't a real punching bag available) and for its versatility (it can be a transitive verb, an intransitive verb, an adjective, an adverb, a noun).
