I’m suffocating and have nowhere to turn, nothing to release and allow a deep breath of air to enter my lungs.
Reality overwhelms me. I. am. Dying.
There is no hope. Nothing in the natural will allow the air to enter- the airways are thickening, closing, preventing even a tube from being inserted to re-open the passage.
The hope. Cutting. Cutting away at flesh. Cutting away creating a new passage, a new entrance.
The old has gone, behold all things are new… A new mechanism to breathe. Forever?
I’ll look like a freak, I think for a moment. But the sweet promise of air. Air. Air.
Invites me, challenges me to consider a new way. Hope for tomorrow. An end to the despair and frantic clawing as I gasp, gasp and gasp again.
Hope is reflected through the handle of a hard, surgical instrument that appears it will wreak destruction. Hope flares in the midst of frantic and dying breaths… who would have thought dying could take this long?
Can I? Can I allow all the old ways to be circumvented and blaze a new path?
Do I have the strength? I can’t even raise an arm to halt the approach of this weapon of
torture release. How can I begin again?
How do I? What will people think as they look at me, will they only notice the deformation? Will they only see the airways that have closed, or will they note the hope of a new passage. Should I care?
That single thought remains as I am swallowed into the oblivion of anoxia.
No longer struggling, no fight remaining. A peace overwhelms me as I sink into the comfort of…
Searing pain jolts me awake. Slicing through white hot as sweet air invades my lungs, expanding the aveoli perfusing the tissues- overwhelming me with LIFE.
Each breath invigorates me. Refreshes me. As strength begins to re-enter the shell that was my body.
Hope is re-ignited. I have breath.
I WILL praise the Lord.