As I walked up to the door to the house, I knew this was a mistake. The sound of two dogs barking as the doorbell rang caused me to cringe inside and I was already making my plans to leave as soon as possible. The problem is, I don't have my cell phone with me. Neither do I have the other things that I would need to survive this visit. My head and heart were both telling me to leave now. My pride kept my feet planted at the door.
I could smell it wafting out even as the door opened. It is a smell most people hardly notice, but for one such as me, it is a smell that sends alarm bells ringing in every pore of my body. I was greeted by the two sources of the smell even before my friend finished opening the door. One was a chocolate lab, the other was a collie and something mix. Retriever maybe? Not a purebred, that's for sure.
Anyways, as I stepped through the door I scratched the ears of the lab and let both sniff my hand. As I was doing so, I did a visual scan of the living room and adjacent kitchen. There was a light brown shag rug, a very plush couch and two matching loveseats in the spacious living room. In the kitchen there was a small table with an assortment of snacks and cookies on it. I cringe as I notice that all of the kitchen chairs have padding on both the seats and backs. I'd give anything for a straight back wooden chair.
Greeting the couple other people as I go, I make my way to the kitchen to wash my hands from scratching the dog. Already my hand is starting to itch. That is a warning sign to me that my tolerance today is low and I make the mental readjustments as to how long I can survive here. My mind is racing for excuses for me to leave because there is no way I can make it to the end of the game. Again I tell myself that I should just explain myself to the host and leave, but my pride brutally pushes that thought aside.
By the opening pitch everyone has arrived. There's nine of us here which is comfortably crowded. Fortunately that many people serves the need for opening a few windows and I've made my spot standing by the arch between the two rooms. It's as close to one of the windows as I can get without being obvious that is what I am doing. I've already made a trip to the bathroom where I stole a dose of benadryl from the medicine cabinet. Another advantage for me is that the dogs have been put in the backyard for the remainder of the night. I'd say I might just make it through the night, but my eyes are itchy and a little bloodshot and my breathing is already becoming labored.
In the bottom of the second A Rod hit a homer. The game is looking to be a good one, but I am hardly noticing. I've started to fade into the background, talking less and less, because I no longer have the breath for more than short sentences. Every time I breathe out I am only exhaling about eighty percent of what I am breathing in. About every fifth breath or so, if no one's looking I force myself to push out as much air as I can. But it is not enough. My back has started hurting because all the air trapped in my lungs is pushing against the muscles in my back. But I've got a long way to go.
Pettite struck out two batters to get out of a jam in the top of the fifth. I've already been back to the bathroom for a second dose of stolen benadryl. By back is now hurting so bad that I couldn't stand up straight if I tried. I cover this by watching the game leaning over the back of one of the chairs. I've also taken to compulsive eating. I've probably had as much munchies as any two other people. I know it doesn't bring any true relief, but for as long as I can remember, whenever I was in this situation I would always be constantly eating. If only food could solve this problem. Nothing short of a miracle can help me at this point.
I skipped the bottom of the sixth and all of the seventh for a bit of a private conversation outside. At least that was the excuse. One of the other people there has a sister with allergies and noticed my distress. This "conversation" was simply an excuse for me to get a bit of fresh air. It is a bit of a small miracle because without it I would not have made it through the night. As it is, anytime I stand up or even turn quickly I begin to black out. There simply isn't enough oxygen flowing through my body for me to even see clearly. Every heartbeat feels like someone is striking a hammer against my chest and the muscles in my back are so tight I am gonna be sore for weeks. Every inhalation sounds like someone softly dragging their fingernails across plastic. I'm breathing slower simply because each breath hurts so much. Breathing has long stopped being a subconscious thing and if I were not mentally forcing each breath I would pass out. When I say I would not have survived the night, I'm not joking.
The Yankees won that game. But I wasn't there to see it. The thought of going back inside was more than I could bear. So we made our excuses and left. I am now just getting out of taking a long hot shower. The steam has helped break up all the fluid in my lungs almost as much as the albuterol in my inhaler did. I'm now curled up in a fetal position on my bed praying that I could just die. But then, if I really wanted that, I could have stayed where I was. It's just how on earth did I let myself get in that position to begin with? Why on earth did I wait so long to leave?
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Compromise is like asthma to the soul. At first we can see just looking around that we are in the wrong place... the wrong situation. Then we get that itch, that discomfort knowing that things aren't as they should be. But as we remain in that situation we begin to lose our vision. Over time there is an ache, a pain, a hurting deep inside. As we continue to live in the compromise, we find that we are no longer able to stand straight. Our life's breath (God's presence) becomes more and more difficult to maintain. And finally... we die.
Yes, why do we humans tend to get ourselves into strange, sometimes/often dangerous positions consciously when we know we can control ourselves and avoid the inevitable? Stubborn - that's what we are - and constantly trying to prove something to ourselves, whether that we are greater than our faults or even that we are greater than the best.
But you're right, it's amazing what people will put up with to avoid making some kind of social faux pas. I have a couple of guinea pigs, and based on observing them, I've decided that humans are herd animals. I'll give the guinea pigs each a carrot and suddenly there carrot isn't good enough, they want the carrot that the other one has. If one gets spooked, for no reason, well, they all get spooked. They're just like people. And similiarly, if one gets sick, it will hide it until it is so bad that it can't hide it any longer. That's why if a guinea pig looks even a little bit sick you need to take it to the vet asap because it could be dead in the morning.
So I've noticed that humans hide being sick as well. Otherwise you'll be rejected from the herd. It's like people who start choking at a restaurant. They feel embarassed so they go to the bathroom, and then people find them dead in there.
wow this is powerful and a good illustration. I think I've been in that itching discomfort stage a few times; but Praise God not as yet remained long enough to lose vission. they are the warning symptoms to get out.
