By Jumbo J
The way that change rules our life, is truly an amazing phenomenon. It can fulfill our dreams or can rip them from our grasp in a single breath. Over the years I have learned to embrace whatever change life may throw at me. I had no choice really, it was either I accepted graciously, or dwell in the depths of despair and self-pity. The latter, is indeed a dark and lonely place to exist.
I've done irreparable damage to my body through not being willing to change the attitude in which I chose to go forward in my life. It was only after I accepted things would get worse for me physically, that I modified my behavior.
Pain and injury have been a staple in my fifty-two years of stumbling through this life. To the point of having to change employment and rearrange my recreational pursuits each time another part of my body failed. The learning of trying to keep it together, while you watch your manhood slowly seep from your grasp can be rather a depressing realization.
But I'm a fighter; I had to be, just to be able to have survived this long. Now my employment is down to doing some home security, lawn and pool maintenance. Yes that's right, I look after a few houses, mow lawns and clean swimming pools while the retired owners go traveling for half of the year. It's cushy, out in the sun and I can keep my own hours, and that suits me just fine.
Of course this is not where I saw my future taking me, but hey, like I said, bend or break, they're the choices.
Just over a year ago, June 2012, I had an unfortunate accident that facilitated one of those changes. My wife had been suffering debilitating depression and anxiety, and I was fitting my employment in around, when I had the chances to do so.
Late one afternoon, I had a window of opportunity to hurry down to one of the houses I looked after, and attend to the swimming pool. I had worked on this swimming pool for four years or more, so you'd think I would know the workings of it, right? ... No, wrong, in my haste to refill the twenty-litre chemical drums for the automatic feeding system, I poured the hydrochloric acid in the chlorine drum by mistake.
This was not a new procedure for me; I had done this over a hundred times before, without a hitch. But this day, my mind just wasn't on the job. A white plume poured up from the plastic twenty-litre drum and instantly sucked the breath from my lungs.
The trouble was, I was in a confined area and unable to get the container off the system without first undoing four bolts to remove it. I held my breath for as long as I could, but I couldn't even manage to get to one of the bolts, without the fumes going up my nose. I'd run outside to try and get my breath back, take in a few deep hits of fresh air and run back in to try again.
But now the whole filter room was engulfed by the white fumes, my eyes were stinging and watering. I couldn't get anywhere near the container, but I managed to undo one bolt before having to exit again. I thought I needed to do something pretty fast as there didn't seem to be a safe distance, as the fumes widened.
I came up with the bright idea to go back in the room, take a lid off one of the unused containers and screw it on, thus stopping the fumes. Sounds as if it would work, right?... No, wrong, again. The container started swelling up straight away. By putting a lid on the container, I had intensified the chemical reaction and turned it into a bomb.
By now, I had been in and out of the room about four times. With each entry back into the room, the container was growing. My logic was beginning to blur, the dizziness swirled, my eyes burned and It was hard to take a proper breath anymore without small gags in between. You'd think I would have just waited, but no. I had to undo the bolts, release the barrier around the containers and get this swelling time bomb out before it exploded.
One bolt per breath was all I could only manage. I went back in a total of eight times without any thought of what these fumes may be doing to me. Dizzy and disorientated, I managed to get the container out and dispose of the deadly concoction I had created.
There was a small bathroom next door to the filter room, I turned the shower on and stepped in fully clothed. I stood there, hands cupped, sucking up the water through my nostrils, trying to rinse away any chemical residue I had ingested.
I choked, I splattered, but continued to rinse every orifice the fumes could have entered: my eyes, nose, ears and mouth.
A fifteen minute job had become an hour long battle and I still had to go back in to the filter room to hook up a new container of chlorine. Why? Because that's me, a sense of 'over and above' the duty type of person, either that or just plain stupid. Yeah, in reflection, even I thought the latter!
I walked back towards home with one hell of a headache. My eyes, throat and nose were burning and I had a real sense of a shortness of breath with every raspy inhalation.
My next dilemma was, do I tell my wife what I had just done and risk her going into a full-blown anxiety attack? Or do I just underplay it and see how I fare?
'To be continued'...
| Author Notes |
A big thanks to Ingrid (Spiritual echo) for encouraging me to write the story about what brought me here to Fanstory. In my wildest dreams, I would never have thought I'd be here in this rich, creative world of thoughts with so many talented people living their craft. Most writer's are meant to be here and some of us just stumble in and find wonderment. I would just like to say how grateful I am to be that stumbler, for Fanstory has given me an expansion in a dwindling existence.
Thank you Nawshad for the use of your creative touch. Spelling may differ from continent to continent. |
By Jumbo J
My next dilemma was, do I tell my wife what I just did and risk her going into a full-blown anxiety attack? Or do I just underplay it and see how I fare?
and the story continues...
As I walked through the door, my question was answered with one look at my wife's panicked state.
"Where were you? You said you wouldn't be long, you've been gone almost two hours!" she stood there with half-crazed look, waiting for an answer.
I told her I had a couple of problems, but played it all down and apologized for my delayed return. On the outside I remained calm and measured, but on the inside, a totally different emotion was ruling my mind. I'd always had a good poker-face, and this situation was going to test that to the fullest.
My breathing was labored, and I thought that I might have done some damage to my lungs. My own anxiety level was causing me to start playing a few mind games. I started thinking maybe I'm going to die; what if my throat swells up and closes? What if I stop breathing? Maybe I should go to the hospital. But once again, I regained my composure long enough to calm myself down. I turned on the computer and did some research into the effects of chlorine and hydrochloric acid poisoning. Surely, this would ease my mind?
This information scared me even more than my own imagination. Once exposed to chlorine gas, it reacts with your lungs and generates hydrochloric acid. According to the severity of exposure, there are a myriad of things that could go wrong. The acids are corrosive, and damage the cells in the body, on contact. Swelling of the airways, stroke, internal bleeding, pulmonary edema, (fluid build up in the lungs) and death is a big possibility if exposed for long enough. But what time frame is long enough? They didn't tell me that!
Armed with my new information, and the emergency phone number for poisoning, I decided to wait and see how the night progressed. There was no way I would risk seeing my wife go through another full-blown anxiety attack; the look of pure desperation and terror, that I could do nothing about. No, I would rather never wake up, than to see that look again.
It was like this, if I woke up the next morning, I would be over the worst. Well, at least that's how I was thinking at the time. Now, just to make things a little more complicated, I suffer from a condition called sleep apnea. I have used a CPAP machine (continuous positive airway pressure) for about eight years. It allows my airways to remain open, so I can breathe while I'm asleep.
Yeah, by now, I can hear you saying, 'you've got to be joking, why aren't you in hospital!'
Well, I wasn't thinking that clearly, and had already been through six months of terrifying anxiety and depression with my wife. She would have had to have been hospitalized.
Yeah, I can hear you say, 'at least you would have been together.' But that was never going to be an option, if I could help it.
No, this is the way I was going to play it, and I did wake up in the morning, obviously. The next test, was to go for a swim in the salt water pool and give my lungs a work out, to see how they fared. This was what concerned me the most; had I damaged my lungs?
Everything seemed to be alright. I managed a kilometre swim without any obstructive breathing problems. I'm out of the woods, all I had to wait for was my throat and mouth to heal and I'd be alright!
Four days later, all my strength drained from my body; I thought I had knocked my resistance down and caught a virus or something, that's what it felt like. Every part of my body ached, the pain was relentless. Every injury I had ever sustained, seemed to come back three-fold, just to remind me of the disrespect I had shown for myself.
Again, I didn't want to freak my wife out by having to travel the two hour round trip to see our G.P. But I did E-mail the doctor to let her know I had ingested chlorine and acid fumes, and wasn't doing all that well. But as usual, I under played it. I'm another one of those males who doesn't particularly like going to visit the doctor.
Days had turned into weeks, and different symptoms were revealing themselves daily. There was no hiding the fact, my condition was deteriorating. I swallowed my male pride, and conceded that it was time to seek medical help.
X-rays and blood tests were ordered to check the condition of my lungs and other vital organs. I was referred to an ear, nose and throat specialist. The trouble now was, I was going to have to wait a further eight months before I could get in to see one. Yeah, that's the great medical service we have in regional Australia now.
If I had gone to hospital in the first instance, I would have been checked out by a specialist straight away. Another lesson learned!
The daytime, I could handle, but nights were a real problem. The restrictive feeling that surrounding my neck, coupled with the fear of lying down to go to sleep, was wearing me down. Even with the CPAP machine forcing air into me, my throat would feel as though it was closing over. It would wake me up in a state of panic, and I would just sit in the dark, talking myself down. It took all of my mental strength to stop 'the, what if's'. But I must say, without the CPAP machine pumping air into my lungs, it may have been a different outcome!
My mouth, tongue, palate and throat were continuously buzzing with the numb feeling of being burnt and swollen. I had a constant burnt metal taste in my mouth. My teeth, gums and face ached, it was doing my head in. Everything I ate had to be cold, as the slightest hint of heat would intensify the symptoms I was experiencing. With the amount of yogurt I lived on, it would have been a smart move to have invested in the company.
I suffered in silence, but you can't hide that kind of injury, especially from your spouse. To my surprise, my wife Jade's anxiety and depressive condition lessened, as her need to care for her husband became of a greater importance then her own fears. The patient was now the carer, and she seemed to be stronger than she had been for the longest time.
If anything good came out of this mishap, this was the first one. Seeing my wife strong again, was a bright light in this nightmare that I found myself in. Maybe there is a reason for everything? I would like to think, I sacrificed myself, so that Jade could regain her equilibrium. Yeah, it sounds a bit extreme, but it gives me a bit of peace thinking that.
My whole body was wracked with pain, every joint and muscle ached. My body just seized up. Employment or working anywhere was no longer an option. I had lost eight kilo's in weight. (17lbs 10 oz.) With all the pain, it was like I aged twenty years in a couple of months.
The dark clouds of depression, swirled around my being. I knew the signs well, yet there was nothing I could do about it. Now three-and-a-half months later nothing had changed. Actually, I think it was getting worse, but then came the second thing that turned this mishap into something positive.
My wife turned to me while sitting on the couch, looked deep into my eyes, and said, "you should start writing."
"Write what," I asked?
"You've written a few poems and I know you could write a good story, this will help you to take your mind off things," she said.
I um'ed, and ah'ed, and looked disinterested, but Jade went on-line and typed in writing site. The first site to pop up was Fanstory; Jade got me up out of my own misery and sat me down in front of the screen, and said "Now write!"
The first thing I read, was a poem written by Tammy Gail. It was rather dark in content, but brilliant. I had never read words that touched me like that before. Attached, was a video clip with Sylvia Plath reciting an eerie poem. Everything about it, just sucked me into the story of the poem.
Instantly, I was taken by the energy of this site.
If I did nothing else, I could read and learn new skills. I joined up for a month's trial, but within two days, that was extended to one year's membership. This was the first social media site I'd had ever been on, so everything was very new to me. The only time I had ever used a computer, was for a couple of emails, and to use 'Word' to jot down my thoughts. To say I was slow at typing, or negotiating my way around would be an understatement.
Very soon, I was swept away by the beauty of words. I had never read any poetry before, and didn't even realize what I had written was in itself, poetry. I was like a kid in a candy store. All the different styles, things I could have never imagined. Life was never going to be the same; something had bloomed in my brain. I was in a community that accepted and acknowledged my 'different'.
It's been seventeen months since I poisoned myself, and while I'm over the worst of it, I am still suffering from the effects. If it wasn't for the inspiration and courage shown to me by the writers on this site, and of course the love of my wife, I don't know how I would have fared. I have read so many different brilliant stories of personal achievement, strength and inspiration. All of which have been a great source of self-assessment and personal growth.
One of the writers I connected with early on, was Maureen Napier. Her story and her words transported me. I have traveled far and wide in her thoughts. It was through Maureen's story of personal battles and trials, that gave me the strength and courage to suck it up during the hard times. She had no idea what I was going through. And yet just like providence, her words of wisdom and courage would come into my in-box, just at the right time. They soothed my mind, right when I needed them, just like magic!
And of course, I was humbled by the way a certain lady on this site looked at life, while I grumbled. Every day was a battle for her and, yet she had the brightest outlook on life. How could I not be inspired by Missy98? Sadly, Melissa is no longer with us, but her words and memory will never die.
So many writers on Fanstory have guided, encouraged and supported me in the short time I have been here. To say that I'm grateful to be accepted into this family of writers, would be grossly understated. Fanstory and the community of writers, allowed me to find purpose in a dwindling existence. Who knows how this story might have ended without it? And even though my body might not be doing that well, my mind is expanding to the possibilities, still waiting to be found. Without even writing another word, I am already a winner.
If there was to be a moral to this story, I suppose it would be ... No matter what setbacks we have in life; a positive attitude to your situation, will create a much better outcome.
Being adaptable to change is a valuable lesson.
This story not only demonstrates this, but also shows, there is a silver lining, you just have to be willing to see it.
| Author Notes |
I would just like to acknowledge, that while Maureen and Melissa, helped me get over myself in moments of weakness, through their bravery; so many other talented writer's contributed to my on-going recovery, through their story and their zest for the art of writing... I am indeed, within a special community.
Thank you Ingrid (Spiritual Echo) for your gentle nudge, to encourage me to write this story. And once again, thank you Nawshad for your amazing art... 'Breathe Ez' |
By Jumbo J
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Dark storm clouds loomed, the feeling that squeezed my existence into a small parcel of doubt and uncertainty. The light that I needed for direction was fading with each unconscious decision I seemed to be making. But there was something about alcohol, and the smoking of dope that freed my soul. It allowed me to be that someone else, the happy me that was trapped inside this large, shy, and damaged country boy's body.
A boy, that on most days, told himself how much he hated being trapped in this sad person's life; fear and insecurities, coupled with the loneliness and a feeling of not belonging anywhere, had me convinced I would be lucky if I made my eighteenth birthday alive.
Death was lurking behind every conscious thought, which caused a total disrespect for self-preservation; it was open season on me, anything to escape this unhappiness. I'd witnessed firsthand the loss of close friends; one, too fresh in my heart that stung so much. Here one moment, then with one blink from an unsuspecting eye... gone; just another numb memory to try and bury with the rest of life's uncompromising disappointments.
After a day of surfing the big waves that the late February storms created of the east coast, our crew pooled all the money we had. Seventy bucks and a bit of loose change, back then, that much could give you a good time for a long time. With a quarter of an ounce of green, we rolled up and smoked the start of another new adventure into laughter, drinking and supposedly, a good time.
The North Wollongong Hotel was our drinking hole, and was a short drive from our local surfing beach. It was frequented by a large cross-section of this working class suburb. The blue singlet wearing truckies, and the leather clad bikies seemed to have the main bar area sewn up as their domain. We knew to drink in the main bar would be a suicide mission; bikies hated surfie's, and it was our duty to hate them back.
The shaggy-haired, board -short, thong- clapping feet surfers, drank in the larger area of the lounge bar. This was the pecking order; mostly the families, women and the rest of us not worthy of the real man's tag would have to go to drink.
It was cheaper to buy jugs of beer, so that's what we all drank. Soon we were inventing ways to make things more interesting. We played darts, eight ball and all sorts of drinking games, but it always ended up in a sculling match. The one's that remained upright, got the better end of the money exchange.
Even though I was the youngest and still two years away from being legally allowed to consume alcohol, I always lasted to the end of the money pot. Little did they know I had been trained by one of the best; my father!
I had grown up in a family that would organize parties at the drop of a hat, just for the sake of having a drink with as many friends they could cram into our backyard. Eighteen gallon kegs of beer would take pride of place, usually under a marque.
Loud eruptions of laughter and bawdy tales of conquest permeated the conversations. My father and his friends sat around the kegs of beer, like it was some kind of a shrine to be worshiped. They drank until the kegs were empty, and more than often would whip around for funds to grab more of the same. It didn't matter what time of the day or night it was, someone always knew that right person to organize the replenishment of more grog.
The designated driver was the one that could still drive. There were times I would go along for the drive, just to sit in the back of my father's van and secure the precious cargo from rolling around. Yet another great example I learned to follow, when I did ending up getting my license to drive a vehicle.
These parties could go on for a couple of days. From a very early age, it was no problem for me to pull a beer, and serve it to Dad and his mates; sort of like the dog you train to retrieve a can of beer from the fridge. Of course I managed to slip in a few drinks for myself, especially when everyone was so inebriated (drunk as skunks).
None of my wave catching buddies could match the speed in which I could swill down a beer. They had no idea I was a trained veteran at this drinking game before I had even reached my teens; but it did work to our advantage.
You know how there's always one schemer in every group? Les was ours, he came up with this full-proof idea how we could drink and not have to pay for one single beer. He would organize a sculling contest. One on one, pint glasses, the one who finishes their beer first, wins.
Les had it worked out so anyone could make a side-bet on the final winner. Everyone could get involved in the waging, not just the participants. We started it off amongst ourselves to create the interest; I was told to slow down my guzzling abilities, as to not ward off future patsies.
It worked a treat. In no time there were willing punters, dying to show that they could out drink this rather awkward, large, long-haired fresh-faced kid. After the first day of this new found golden egg, our little crew walked out of the pub, full-bellied and with a little extra cash in our pockets.
We sat around in-between waves, smoking cones and devising new plans on how we were going to make this a lucrative endeavour? We all agreed, taking this drinking challenge on the road, was the way to travel up and down the coast surfing, drinking and hopefully picking up some chicks in the process. Oh yeah, it all sounded so good in theory, but we were all about to learn the hard way what happens to well laid plans.
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