Suffocation

I try to imagine not being able to breathe, reaching that point where the lungs will burst, your head explode, your vision narrowed to a pinpoint, and still the air doesn't come. I've been at the bottom of the pool longer than I should have, knowing that I could hold out for one more painful second then push off and find sweet air above the surface.

In my mother's case, the surface is a very long way away. A lifetime smoker, she was eventually diagnosed with Emphysema, and then C.O.P.D. The latter is a death sentence, a matter of when and not if, the rate of degeneracy the determinant. Then, not to my surprise, she was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor in her right lung. One type of surgery seemed viable, so she signed up for it and played it up to us as being relatively safe, as major operations involving lung removal possibly can be.

A month later and she remains in the ICU, unable to breathe on her own, fighting a host of smaller, nagging problems that have utterly inhibited her ability to begin recovery. After a lesser procedure we are told things are "improving", presumably relative to where things stood the week prior. The respirator tube has been moved from her mouth to a tracheotomy to kill off an infection in her throat and to render intubation a little less painful. She is also on light dialysis to speed up her kidney function, which had fallen way off when her system was unable to process enough waste. We are told the dialysis is nothing to worry about.

We shall see.

The hope is that in the next week or so she will be deemed strong enough to have the respirator turned off and begin breathing on her own, something that should have happened weeks ago. If it does come to pass, she may well be on her way to a long, but successful recovery. If she cannot, then she is at the bottom of the pool, staring up at the surface without the strength to launch herself toward air, fresh air.