Short Story

-Inspired by "How Do I Live" by Leann Rimes

I awoke suddenly in the middle of a cold, January night. The pain in my chest was so sharp and severe it was like a dozen kitchen knives repeatedly stabbing through me. I was used to wheezing and occasional chest pains, but I had never felt anything quite like this. My breaths were short, quick; my chest was frozen tight and would not allow me to breathe deeply. In that moment, I would have given anything, anything to fill my lungs with a gulp of pure, fresh, glorious air. Help me! I screamed inside my head, unable to utter a word. Seconds felt like hours dragging by as I lay, slowly losing consciousness. I finally stopped struggling as I relaxed my tensed muscles and accepted my fate. I'm going to die right now, I thought feebly as everything faded to black.

Somehow, I awoke again. The soft beeping of a heart monitor told me that I was still alive. But this time, I was not in my own comfy bed, but a stiff hospital bed, hooked up to tons of machines, wires covering my whole body. The doctor came in a while later and explained what had happened: I had had a respiratory attack due to a lack of oxygen; thirty years of smoking had given me emphysema. I was only forty-three years old, and I would need an oxygen tank to breathe for the rest of my life.

"Typically in these situations, the patient's medical insurance will completely cover the expenses of the tank," the doctor told me officially. "But the problem here is...you don't seem to have any insurance."

My stomach dropped, and the monitor I was connected to began beeping loudly as my heartbeat quickened. Since I had lost my job less than a year previously, I hadn't been able to pay my insurance premium; the insurance company had stopped giving me coverage about two months ago. Paying out of pocket for the tank wasn't even an option; I had barely had enough money to buy my cigarettes the day before.

"What will happen to me if I don't use it? What if I just don't get one?" I asked nervously.

The doctor folded his hands together, suddenly appearing very interested in the hospital's white linoleum floor. He sighed. "You wouldn't last very long. Your body has lost its ability to breathe properly on its own; without the extra oxygen to help, your attacks will get worse and worse until one of them kills you."

I slumped my head back onto my pillow, tears bursting through my closed eyes and streaking quickly down my face. There was no way out of this. I had no one. I had no choices. I would die soon, with nothing. Nothing but a pain in my chest.