And She Called Me “Dear” Part 1

Saturday, I got a sense of my bubble – the one I live in clueless (most of the time) to the fact that I live in it.

Here’s what happened:

We were in Austin. I had a wicked cold with big-time congestion and coughing. To save myself exploding sinuses and the worry of scaring fellow passengers with my tubercular hacking, I took an over-the-counter decongestant, which shall remain nameless…MucinexDM…for the flight back to NYC.

Those of you who know me well are shaking your heads about now. You know this was a bad idea.  Yes, very. To be fair (to me), I thought about my super-sensitivity to meds before I did this, even trying 1 dose the day before.  It seemed fine, so the next day I take another on the way to the airport.

Somewhere over Louisiana, I keel over – pass out. Cold. According to AdMan, my quick thinking husband who caught me, I was out for about 10 minutes.

Waking, I’m flat in the aisle covered in blankets. In the few seconds it takes for the scene to come into focus, I register panic in the eyes of one flight attendant. I hear a professionally perky Australian accent coming from behind me; I feel Adman’s hand on mine; and receive a sweet smile from person in the seat, now above me, to my left. Confused and aware that my sense of self isn’t squaring with this condition I’m in, it dawns on me that I’ve been redefined. I’m a patient. Fragile. Other.

Just like that I know that my version of me (on a good day) as healthy, courageous, strong, relevant and powerful is not how these people see me. Not, at all. I feel privilege slipping away. And, I get a jolt of, reality = impermanence.

In case you’re worried, I’m fine. No more Dextromethorphan in my future. I learn ahem-again, to take my sensitivities seriously.

And, there’s much more to the story (and the title will make sense, I promise). But for now, I’d love to hear about moments when there was a crack in your bubble. When you, as the proverbial fish who doesn’t know it’s wet, felt the water.

For Comment-makers:

Reading your comments is something I look forward to. And, it’s important to me that all of us (readers, browsers, comment-makers, and me) feel profoundly safe and secure. I ask that each of us be responsible for managing the energy that we bring here. We’re friendly and kind on this site. Just so you know.

Interested in coaching? Go to Move Into Change

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