I Can Die at Anytime.

I Can Die at Anytime. 

Trigger Warning- This short story contains Terror, Suspense, and The Possibility of Sudden Death.

Introduction- You sleep- you die! 

Part One- Day Six of Being Awake.

As Rebekah Del Rio’s perfectly performed, comforting song, “No Stars,” played on my headset, I got shivers. Such a confusing and wonderful song. I missed acting and singing on stage. Singing helps me breathe so much better. I missed the way singing would help me escape from my Central Sleep Apnea which bound me to a CPAP, and portable oxygen while away. My doctor did not know what to do with me. 

“Are you just a shallow breather? You’re oxygen levels are normal.” She said.

“I struggle 24/7 to breathe. Smoking helps.” I replied.

“I do not want you to do that. Are you listening? I do not want you to do that!”

This scared me as it was the only way to help regulate my breathing at times. The CPAP just put me in clear panic. I thought I was going to suffocate in my sleep. Ondine’s Curse would come to mind. You sleep- you die! They are not helping me with this shit. I thought. I knew I would die if I went to sleep. I knew it, so I focused on the song that I was playing again on my headset later that night. I wanted to know what the song meant as it was a mixture of English and Spanish. I- being an English major- only knew English. When my caregiver showed up- I really could not breathe right. I needed to know what the song said! A bilingual caregiver could help. I thought, but she declined. I grew upset. Desperate for help to understand- I went to my sweet neighbor. Surely she would help! I banged on her door forgetting she had a doorbell. She answered. I said,

“Please! Please, help me understand this song! I want to try to sing it, because today I feel like I must try to sing something, or I’ll die!” 

And she, who mostly spoke Spanish, simply said, 

“No. No music after nine. You’ll be fine. You always are.” She closed the door, and that was that. My tears fell hard as I walked home. The invisibility of my diagnosis, and the rarity of it all absolutely dumbfounded everyone- especially the doctors and specialists I had seen up until I was officially diagnosed. Struggling even harder to breathe- I went home, turned down the lights, and I put on “Twin Peaks.” And I rewatched the third season in one sitting, so no, I did not sleep. 

Part Two- Day Seven of Being Awake. 

Alcohol helped, but I was broke until payday- five days away! Ugh! I knew I would not sleep until then, and I did not. 

Part Three- Day Twelve of Being Awake.

The last I heard- the stay awake record was around twelve days, but I could beat that. I already had many times in the last nine years since my condition- the curse- had begun to plague me, so I pitched the idea to the Guinness Book of World Records to see if I could be monitored for twenty straight days, but they simply declined stating that it would be too dangerous. Ugh! After reading my rejection letter online- I watched the horrific true-crime Netflix miniseries, “The Staircase,” twice, but the second round was more challenging and emotional as I began to hallucinate. Demons! I saw demons and spiders crawling out of my television set. Even the spider’s red, glowing eyes burned indelible images into my soul, but the demons- they stared me down as if to say,

“Welcome to Hell!” 

Then, overwhelmed, I took off my oxygen, and headed toward the dreaded CPAP machine for my four daily hours of torture which was required by insurance, or else I was fined. Then a thick, purple cloud filled the room, or did it? I closed my eyes in fear, because I was falling asleep. 

Part Four- Cursed.

I often thought of the curse of the Ondine’s, and how at the end of the play- there is a quote from the male lead where Hans admits to Ondine that, “…all the things my body once did by itself, it does now only by special order… A single moment of inattention, and I forget to breathe.” She then kisses him, and he simply passes away. 

Part Five- Reset!

After two hours of shocking nightmares- me falling off of high places to my death. Me being thrown out of airplanes without parachutes. Me having insects crawling on me in the sheets. Me cuddling up with bears on the subway. Then I awoke gasping! My CPAP settings were off! I ripped it off, and threw my CPAP mask right on the floor, put on my jacket, and I raced outside for some fresh air and a cigarette. Smoke! I need smoke! I thought. Then- relief! My breathing felt regulated! For five whole minutes I was not having to have my brain struggle to constantly tell my lung muscles to work! It was a miracle every time!

Part Six- Day One of Being Awake.

“Drinks are on me!” I told my neighbor after banging on her door with such excitement. “I slept two hours! They were terrifying, but at least I got sleep!”

“Okay. Let’s go, but you behave! Remember, I know where you live, but I will not drag you home!” 

“Deal, but please help me learn this song?”

Part Seven- No Estrellas!

As we walked to the liquor store just around the corner, I pointed up at the sky and said,  

“Look! No stars!”

“No! No estrellas! Enunciate!” She corrected me as we passed a bakery named Estrella’s, and the word had never clicked with me. I never knew the baker’s name meant the word, “Star,” and she was fantastic!

 “Gin, and tonics with lime, okay?” She asked me. 

“Please!” I said as I held out the liquor store door for her.

“Gracias!”

“De nada!” She said as she laughed. “You’re learning! Beuno.”

Part Eight- G and T’s in the Cool, Cool Breeze.

Now it was back to my house where we sat on the front porch enjoying our drinks. I did not have a care in the world. There were days like this where my breathing was not off, and these days always involved alcohol and cigarettes- which were slowly causing me health problems as it was. I am not quite forty, and my doctor wants me to have an endoscopy and colonoscopy. The colonoscopy is fine as they would not put me completely under, but an endoscopy could kill me just like it did Joan Rivers. We were having such a nice time- then the phone rang. I did not recognize the number. I answered anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hello. I am calling from GI to schedule your procedures.” An odd voice said- perhaps someone from South Africa. I gasped! This was really going to happen. I could be scheduling my expiration date! I could not catch my breath, and I accidentally dropped my drink, and the glass shattered all to pieces. Then I scheduled the procedures, and cried.

Part Nine- The Date of Doom!

Terrified and shaking, I entered the hospital for the endoscopy. My shirt was soaked with sweat, and I could hardly control my breathing. 

“I’ll be your anesthesiologist today,” said someone far too young to understand what I was going through. I got prepared, and next thing I knew I was on the gurney going through corridors with large double swinging doors that had no windows, and the anesthesia began kicking in. Those doors that, to me, were so scary- so frightening- were the last things I could ever see.