Claustrophobia

by w.j.debi

Claustrophobia has advantages, doesn’t it? Intensified perceptions? Heightened emotions? Yeah, right. Oh, how I wish I could sit up. I wish it weren’t so dark. Okay. Take a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Concentrate.

“NO!” I clenched my fists and pounded on the debris trapping me, screaming so loudly it hurt my ears. Yeah, I panicked.

“Help! Someone, please help!”

I held my breath. Please let me hear an answer, or a noise of some kind, any kind.

Tick, tick, tick… Ah, my wind-up watch. Too bad it was too dark to see the hands. Strange, I bought this watch as a gag when I heard the internet and cell phone reception was sporadic on board, and that was only if you bought a specific connection. Going retro? Might as well go all the way. What a stupid thought. I half-laughed, half-sobbed, then started pounding again.

“Help!”

Perspiration soaked my skin, saturating my clothes and making them cling in uncomfortable ways. I raised my hand to rub away small flecks of something I felt on my face. To relieve some of the aching in my left side, I wiggled and strained to shift from lying half-way on my side to lying on my back. The effort left me gulping huge breathes of stale air between sobs. Sobbing? Really? A waste of energy, but I couldn’t help it. Trapped in a dark, cramped space. Alone. Never to be found? Lost at sea? The longer I was here, the louder and quicker my racing pulse pounded in my ears.

Hopefully, my adrenaline level was climbing along with my distress. Doesn’t adrenaline give a person extra strength in life-threatening situations? And being claustrophobic should drive up my distress and therefore my adrenaline, right?

Ugh. This type of reasoning wasn’t helping. Calm down. Count to ten, or a hundred, or something. Think this through.

Was the storm over? I couldn’t hear it anymore. Truth was, I couldn’t hear anything except my own breathing and the ticking watch. Someone must be looking for me. Or…has everyone abandoned ship? If so, why? Am I buried too deeply under this debris for anyone to hear me? No white knights around when I needed one. No handsome, brawny sailor saving me from the deep, dark ocean. Come on Popeye, where are you? And if I did happen to free myself…am I underwater or above it?

Drowning? Noooooo…

Panic surged into a tantrum of frustration and fury: pushing, pounding, kicking, and cursing at the material that pinned me down. Something broke loose near my feet. A rush of cool air and a sliver of light flooded into my tiny space. It was barely a crevice, but it was an opening to the outside world.

More tears, but this time of relief.

Breathe. Focus. Kick at the opening. Something gave slightly, didn’t it?

“Yes!”

I kicked again and again.

Inch-by-inch the light and air in my small enclosure increased. Alternating spurts of kicking and resting gave me hope the opening would become large enough for me to squeeze through. With each minor triumph, my excitement grew. Only a few inches of debris were between me and the outside.

How much time did it take to chip away at my barrier—minutes, hours? It didn’t matter. Each kick brought me closer to the outside.

My final kick broke free another piece of debris and sent it tumbling to the side. The opening was finally large enough for me to wiggle and squirm my way toward it. My mind said, “rest a moment,” but my claustrophobia shouted, “OUT NOW!”

So, I shoved against the metal, willing my body to move in the wave-like motion of a caterpillar, inch by aggravating, tortuous inch. The nicks and scratches I incurred? Freedom was so close; I’d take whatever damage it cost.

One last effort. That’s all I needed to finally free my head and shoulders. I took a deep gulp of air and pushed. In my excitement to emerge, I hit my head trying to sit-up an inch too soon. I didn’t feel any pain, but put my hand to my forehead. It was wet. Blood or perspiration? Both. Who cared?

I untangled myself from the debris and stood. My aching muscles rejoiced. Fresh ocean air immediately eased the stress on my throat and lungs. A light breeze embraced and cooled my frazzled body. Fluffy white clouds floated in a blue sky. I squinted against the bright sunshine. Mid-morning, perhaps? Oh, that’s right, I have a watch. I raised my arm to look at my wrist. Ten o’clock. I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the sun.

A wave of dizziness and nausea made my stomach lurch. Spots appeared and disappeared in my vision. Maybe I stood up too quickly. I put a hand on the wall to steady myself. Trembling, I slid into a sitting position and put my head between my knees.

I was going to be sick. Good. That meant I was alive. Exhausted? Yes. But relieved and grateful. So grateful. Thank you, Lord.

Free and alive. I couldn’t ask for more.

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