Alone and wondering if this is the end

When your body scares you

It was 3:30 a.m. when the spasm hit like an invisible force taking over my body. I couldn’t breathe. When I tried to speak, nothing came out but little barks of pain, all too like Great-Grandma Louise after her stroke. “Help,” I forced out. The only one around to hear me was God.

Should I call 911? My cell phone and landline phone were both nearby, but could I shift position enough to reach them? What if I couldn’t say anything? If I could speak, what would I tell them? This was so weird I had no language for it.

All my doors were locked. My neighbor had a key, but he’s 83, and he was sleeping. I had another key hidden in the patio. But I couldn’t tell anyone that. It was like a whole-body cramp, but not a cramp, where any move would make it worse.

Would they have to break my beautiful new front door to get into my beautiful new living room?

Please God, please God.

Gradually it eased. I took tentative breaths, then more forceful ones. I flexed my hands and feet to see if they still worked. I tested my voice. Okay. Okay. I was all right.

I reached for my cell phone and googled the words that came to mind: “Diaphragm spasm.” Bingo. I read the many reasons this can happen, starting with strain from exercise. Maybe reaching way up to remove the ivy at the top of my hedges did this. Other more frightening causes were listed, tumors and neurological diseases and--Oh please, no. Let’s just say it was the hedge-trimming.

I should contact a doctor. But my doctor has moved away and been replaced by a doctor I have never met. The spasm is over now. What would I say? I have nothing to show her, no evidence this happened.

At 7 a.m., I started my day with a hot bath. My back and hips ached as usual. What would I do if another spasm hit while I was in the tub? I breathed, conscious of my lungs and ribs expanding and contracting. Today, I thought, that might be all I do, just breathe.

I prayed, dressed and started my day.

Same as the day before, but not. Now, I was afraid.

This happened a few days ago. It has not happened again, but my anxiety has ratcheted up, followed by a wave of depression that kept me from doing much for the last couple days. I feel much better now. And yes, I will schedule an appointment with that new doctor.

Meanwhile, when I finally dragged myself to the store last night, I decided I deserved a dozen red roses. I really wanted the donuts on display nearby, but I put the roses in my cart instead.

That spasm was a wakeup call. I picture myself alone in my bed fighting to breathe, feeling myself about to die from something that would not kill me if someone else were in the house to notice and get help.

I am seriously considering purchasing one of those annoying call buttons people wear on their wrists or around their necks. If I can’t speak but can still push a button, it might save my life. I really, really, really don’t want this, but maybe I need it. One of the problems is you have to designate a friend or relative who will come running if you push the button. Who would that be?

We are going to talk more about this in future posts.

Meanwhile, in a blessing of good timing, sister Oregonian Julia Hubbel posted at her Substack about the need to prepare a “go bag” for sudden medical emergencies.

Don't Die in the Emergency Room: A Sure Fire Strategy to Protect Yourself

Essentially, the bag contains information about your medical conditions, medications, and allergies, names and contact information for loved ones, information about your pets, a change of clothes, and other things you would want to have with you in the hospital.

While cleaning out the coat closet in preparation for the installation of my new carpet, I found my old emergency bag, totally out of date because I hadn’t used it and forgot it was there. I need to refill it. Preferably today. Remember last week’s tsunami warning? It didn’t result in any trouble here, but what if it had?

Let’s all fill our go bags this week. With luck, we’ll never need them. But if we do, it will be a big help. And no, it should not be hidden behind the brooms and vacuum cleaner where no one will see it.

Let’s talk

• Have you experienced a medical situation where you were alone and unable to call for help? What happened?

• Have you or anyone you know invested in a medical alert device?

• Do you have anything ready in case of a sudden health emergency?

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On the home remodeling front

Great news! Home Depot is issuing a full refund for the furniture I ordered online. It only took two weeks of calling, texting, speaking to robots, and tracking packages with FedEx and Home Depot. I finally spoke to a human named Guillermo who is returning the whole $700-plus. Meanwhile, those four boxes of furniture parts have been FedExed to Houston, Delaware, and California. Not my problem anymore. Whew.

I will purchase fully assembled furniture somewhere down the road, but today I will relax on my old green sofa and loveseat.

Lesson: Don't order anything online that is bigger than you can handle. I would not have gotten into this mess if I had waited a bit to get to know my new carpet's true colors and if I had read the fine print that said, "assembly required." One of those boxes weighed 96 pounds and another 72 pounds. Way too big for me.

Now that the living room is looking good, I’m thinking the bedrooms could use new paint and carpeting, too. And maybe it’s time to redesign my backyard . . .

Maybe next year.

Thank you all for being here.

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How did I end up alone? My first marriage ended in divorce. My second husband died of Alzheimer’s after we had moved to the Oregon coast, far from family. I never had any kids, only dogs. Now I live by myself in a big house in the woods. You can read our story in my memoir, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, available at your favorite bookseller. Visit https://www.suelick.com for information on all of my books.