I struggled up from dark depths, lungs straining. Breaking the surface, my eyes flooded by light. Air. I need air! There was something over my mouth and nose, though, stopping me from drinking it in. Reaching for it in panic, my hand was intercepted. It was a firm yet gentle touch, more of a prompt. I was so weak; it was enough.
"You need to leave it on. It's helping you breathe, Mr. Ryan." No. No, it's smothering me!
My eyes tried to focus on the person leaning over me—a woman. Young thirties, I think, with a kind face. Who was she?
I tried to tell her I couldn't breathe, but the words didn't come. She squeezed my hand.
"Try to relax. Try to breathe." The lightness of her voice urged me to trust her, but I needed air! My heart was racing. From behind me, I heard the rapid, high-pitched beep, beep, beep, beep.
I tried looking down my nose at the mask—more light. More came into focus. Glass and metal. A steri…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Tom Ryan, Author to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.