This is why you shouldn't take life for granted.
On Monday, October 4, 2010, I was talking to my friend Theresa Judefind on the phone around 1:00 a.m. I'm a night-owl, so usually I'm up all night--I remember watching Futurama or something on tv. Anyway, during the phone call, I felt a little winded, and out of breath. About an hour goes by and I turn on the computer to check my Facebook account. And then it happened. I pretty much stopped breathing, and I'm falling to my knees in my room, in the dark, in my apartment at 2:00 a.m. gasping for air. Everything inside of me just kind of stopped working. I tried my best to calm myself down; which I think I did a good job of doing--to the best of my ability. The first thing that I thought was oh shit. This is it. This is how it's all going to end.
I was prepared to die right thereon my floor in my room--while grasping my neck.
I remember thinking that I didn't want my mom to find me there. I would never want to do that to her. I wasn't afraid to die in the least bit, but I didn't want my mom to have to one day go through the pain of finding her only son inexplicably dead on the floor. I've played this moment out time and time in my head, but not this way. Not like this.
I grab the keyboard, knock over the chair and notice that one of my close friends, Evan was online (on Facebook). I didn't want to cause any alarm so I remember asking "Are you going to sleep soon?" (I mean it was 3:00 in the morning, after all) And he replies, "No, do you need a ride somewhere?" And after telling him to hold on for a second; (because I was trying to gather all the air I could)--I told him that I needed to go to Wilmington Hospital, to the Emergency Room. Luckily, Evan lives about 3 miles away from me, and the hospital is about a mile away from my apartment. If Evan hadn't got there when he did, I most likely would have absolutely died--in my bedroom on my floor.
I ended up getting admitted to the hospital and spending three days there--I was discharged on Wednesday, October 7th. There was tons of bloodwork, tons of tests, both of my cardiologists came to see me (I have a heart condition--which made everything worse) and I saw lung doctors, infectious disease doctors, and so on and so forth. It turns out, I (most likely) breathed in mold spores from a leaking washing machine in my apartment and it almost killed me.
So, why am I telling you all this and why is this entry public? Because this changed everything. Because it's important not to stress the small things. Because at any moment; life could throw you a curveball. Because at any moment life could just end.
What separates the men from the boys is realizing that instead of thinking about how bad things are--and instead of complaining about the things you can't immediately control (boys, girls, money--or lack thereof), take a step back and smile. Just enjoy what you have right now. Enjoy your life. Be more positive. After all, it can't hurt.
To Evan: thanks so much, I owe you my life. :-)