across my mind, taunting me with their speed. I had a sensation of not being in any one place, unable to focus: to breathe. I'm having an asthma attack. In an ambulance, with oxygen on my face, a paramedic calming me down. I can't breathe! I try to say it out loud but I'm too scared. I grasp the edges of the gurney in my hands, and start to breathe faster, gasping, my mouth wide open, hoping that more air will be dragged in. The ambo tries to calm me down but I can't focus on him; I can't focus on anything except the panic taking over me like a tsunami crushing an island. Where the hell is Darryn?
. . .
The hospital bed is really uncomfortable - not that I expect to get any sleep lying at a 45 degree angle with an oxygen mask engulfing my face and a drip stabbed into the back of my hand. I stare at the T.V. where the wall meets the ceiling, a blank, black screen bolted into the wall. The ambulance ride, overcome by terror of losing my life, left me bereft of energy. At least they had given me painkillers for the hangover that had taken over once I could concentrate on something other than trying to fill my lungs. I hadn't had an asthma attack for 15 years. My mother had always acted calm and collected, even though I knew she was as scared as I was.
The nebuliser wasn't helping – I still couldn't breathe in, and the gap between my collar bones was drawing in sharply as I tried, leaving a shallow grave of skin and protruding tendons. “Just sit up and keep trying to breathe slowly. The ambulance is on their way.” She rubbed my shoulders to try and help my body relax in any way she could.
I had felt the same panic then as I did in the ambulance today. The doctor who saw me an hour ago said I had come very close to losing my life. What is my life? I wondered this thought on a daily basis. I sometimes considered whether it was worth fighting for. My 'pretty little life'. A husband. A house. A job. It looks good to an outsider. But I loved none of it. I'm not sure I even liked any of it. When Darryn was in the shed, or out drinking, or gambling on line, I would stare at the ceiling from my bed for hours. I tried to envision the future, but all that ever came to me was a black hole, sucking the life force out of me. It bared my soul, and that scared the hell out of me. 3 years ago I overheard one of Darryn's girlfriends telling him that the energy I emanated drained the whole room, and it was really depressing to talk to me. He had nothing to say, shrugging his shoulders. I couldn't see his face, but I
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