Page 41 of Death, Interrupted
I sat down in front of her and leaned back against the cabinet so we were level. “Okay,” I said. “This is a good start. You did the hardest part by asking for help. We’ll take it slow.”
Her breath hitched. A soft sound broke from her throat, and she pressed her forehead to her sleeve. Itlooked like the air she was breathing was hurting.
“Follow my voice, and we’ll breathe together. In for four, hold for seven, and out for eight. Do you know this exercise?” I asked.
Her eyes snapped to mine again, and she nodded.
I smiled. “Good. Let’s do it together. Ready?”
She gave another small nod.
I breathed in and held up my hands to count. She did it with me, but her breathing stalled the first time.
“You’re doing great, Sumner. Once again. Ready?” This time, I counted out loud for her to hear. “One, two, three, four. Hold. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. And out. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Good job.”
I kept the pace and didn’t rush her. “Again. In. Hold. Out.” On the third round, the air actually traveled all the way. It wasn’t smooth, but it was enough for now.
I smiled again, seeing the panic in her eyes slowly fading. She still wasn’t fully aware of what was going on, and I was scared that she’d soon snap out of it and panic upon finding me sitting here.
I stayed calm and breathed with her one more time, giving her all the time she needed.
“Cold water can help. Can I wet a cloth for your neck?” I asked.
She watched me, unsure if this method would actually help.
“It worked for me,” I admitted, letting her in on my past of frequent panic attacks. “The cold will slow your heart rate,” I explained, knowing that her heart must’ve been racing.
She thought about it for a moment, then nodded.
I stood and grabbed the washcloth by the sink, ran it under cold tap water, wrung it, and came back. I held it out and waited. “Do you want to do it yourself, or can I help?”
She lifted a hand that shook and reached for it. Her fingers didn’t quite cooperate. “May I?” I asked quietly. “Is that okay?”
Another nod. I moved closer and pressed the cloth to the side of her neck. “Good,” I said. “You’re doing it.”
Her jaw trembled as she watched me closely. “I feel…wrong,” she managed. “I can’t feel my hands.”
“That’s panic,” I said. “It’s awful, but it passes eventually. Keep breathing with me.”
When her breathing went ragged again, I steadied the rhythm and waited it out. When her eyes slipped past me, I brought her back without being rough. “Look at me,” I said softly. “You’re home, you’re safe. Look around. Everything is solid and real. This is your safe space, remember?”
She nodded slowly, another small sob escaping her.
“Can we try something? I used to do this, and it helped me refocus. Can you name five things in this room that are blue?”
She didn’t answer, so I named them for her. “The towel by the sink. The small flower pot by the window. Your toothbrush. The mouthwash. The hearts on my socks.”
A ghost of something moved in her expression as she dropped her gaze to my feet. I smirked. “I got them at IKEA. No clue why they sell socks, but I thought they’re cool.”
The smallest smile tugged at her lips, and I took it as a big step forward.
“Now, four things you can feel.”
Her eyes moved up again, and she looked horrified. I knew that feeling. Wanting to feel something but not being able to.
“You can do it,” I encouraged, but she still wouldn’t talk.
“The cloth on your neck,” I started, keeping my eyes on hers. “The floor under your feet. Your sweater. The tub against your back.” I didn’t push for words. I only needed a blink or a nod to know she was still with me. “Three sounds next. The fan. My voice. The cars outside.”