Mt. Everest

The Undefeated
Jun 11, 2017
7 min read

A few nights ago I got to see some good friends of mine. I haven’t seen them in a few years, so it was really nice to.

I’m driving to their apartment and have to call my buddy for the specific directions. I have a tough time remembering things, so I was real proud when I made it there. I’m driving in and trying to figure out where to go, so I call my buddy again. My phone is low on charge and right when he’s about to tell me where to go, my phone dies.

So I’m at a stop sign and I don’t know where to go but there’s a car behind me so I go to turn left and the car starts serially honking at me. All kinds of anger rise up in me and I roll down my window and it’s my buddy waving at me to go right. So I follow him down to the end and park. I get out and my buddy and his wife have the door open to their apartment, but all I see are two flights of stairs between me and their house.

My heart sinks.

Stairs are a thing that I avoid at all costs because of my joints and also because once I get warm it’s hard to counteract the pain that follows.

They both look at me smiling and invite me in. My pride takes over my body and I rush up those stairs as fast as possible, the whole time my joints are crying.

That was just the first flight.

I stop for a moment to say hi to Juan and take a breath but then my body lets me know that if I stop for long I won’t be going up any more stairs. So I go up the stairs yet again, like I’m a chronically ill speed racer.

I’m upstairs. Thank you, Jesus.

Juan starts telling Emma about how he honked at me in the parking lot. He said, “Just as she was about to give me the finger, she realized it was me.” Abashedly, I laugh. He knows me pretty well. I say, “Both hands!”. We laugh.

We all sit down to eat some pizza. It’s half cheese/half pepperoni. I pause deciding what I’ll have as Emma reaches for hers and Juan for his. Emma remarks that for someone who is lactose intolerant he sure eats a lot of pizza. As Juan picks up his piece, the cheese slides off the pizza. We pause for just a second and start laughing. I say, “ Your pizza is saying, ‘Don’t eat me!!’”.

The pizza is good, the people are great, and the conversation is better.

We go to the living room talking back and forth about the movie we’ll watch. Emma and I nix scary movies and we decide on animation movies. I tell them my mother has told me that I need to watch movies marketed to people older than eight, to which Emma says that they have a road trips playlist of songs from animated movies. I feel vindicated.

We ended up watching trolls, which I love. I notice similarities between Branch, a character in the movie, and Juan seconds before he says, “He’s(Branch) got a point”. We talk for a bit afterwards and then I hug Emma goodnight as Juan is going to make sure I make it down and out alright. He ends up helping me down the stairs as I begin feeling unsteady, in pain, and lightheaded. By the end of the first stairs I am not feeling well, but that’s a normal part of my life and assume that all I need is to sit down for 15-20 minutes when I get to my car and I’ll be fine. The lightheadedness, nausea, unsteadiness, and pain get worse. He takes my keys and drives the car up to the curb for me and helps me to my door.

We say goodnight, he asks if I’m alright, and I say I will be. I firmly believe that if I just sit for a while I’ll regain my strength and be able to drive home.

I’m not paying attention to time and I get a text from Juan at 10 minutes til 11. He’s trying to make sure I’m okay. I’m still convinced I’ll be driving myself home. Ten minutes pass and he asks again. I think I can most likely drive myself home. (I have issues accepting my boundaries and accepting help.) To be fair, this kind of pain and shakiness is something entirely new. I was trying to figure it out and usually I can take a deep breath, suck it up buttercup, and keep going. This time was different.

He offers their spare bedroom at 11:10 , which I think I might actually need but dread going up those stairs as I barely made it down. He says he’ll help me. I remain stubbornly convinced and say I think I can still make it home.

In between 11:15 and 11:25 I’m about 95% sure that I fainted in my car. So I text my friend and say that I’m going to park. He gives me his parking space that is right next to the stairs. The only time I can compare the pain, unsteadiness, shakiness, and lightheadedness to is when I had blood clots and couldn’t walk. I open my door and sit, trying to draw strength from somewhere, and start whispering, “please be my strength”. Juan comes over and asks if he can help, arm outstretched and waiting. I'm stubborn and I use my door to put pressure against my leg so that I can stand.

I get to the bottom of the first stairs and stare up with dread. He says something about how I can’t insist on being a badass right now and Juan offers his hand for my left hand and I grab the railing with my right. Several times I feel like I may vomit or like I may faint. The whole time he’s telling me I can do it. My hands go weak halfway up and I start grabbing the wrought iron. He tells me there’s only two stairs left and I gotta push through and get to the top. I get up the first flight and rest at the landing for a bit. My knees were throbbing and I was not sure I’d be able to make it up the second flight of stairs. I contemplated, for a moment, sleeping outside. They share the landing with another apartment…and that’d be awkward.

We get inside and I get up one step and suddenly it’s all so much worse. I feel like I may faint then and there and Juan tells me to lean forward if I think I’m going to lose consciousness. He puts my elbow in his and steadies me. I breathe hard and fast for a while and then make it up another two stairs at which point I tried to lean forward and I think I’m about to go and I hear him ask me something. It was enough to remind that there was someone there with me and I tried to breathe deeper. I regain full consciousness and take deep breaths. I get up two more steps and I start feeling like all my muscles are shaking. I lean forward out of fear and then the pain comes. The pain is the worst it has been in a long time.

The truth is that I think I fainted on the stairs but I hear Juan say, “Do I need to go get Emma?” and more than anything I think the sheer embarrassment I felt made me get up. There’s a landing and then two more stairs. I get to the landing and I’m holding onto the railing and pressing my face into the wall because tears are streaming down my face and I just want to sit down and shake and cry. He comes back and tells me I only have two stairs left and that I can do it. I tell him I’m in so much pain. He says, “ Just because you’re in pain, doesn’t mean that you can’t do it.” I stop and tell him I have to write that down, that it’s really great. I tell him he’s a good friend to which he laughs and replies, “ That’s just the pain talking.”

I laugh and refocus. We get up the steps and he puts my arm over his shoulders and walks me to the spare room. I say, “ I feel like I just climbed Mt. Everest.” He says, “If it makes you feel any better, that’s the shortest walk anyone’s had to take to get to Everest.” I smile. He gets me a glass of water, I thank him, and that’s the night.

The next morning I wake up to instructions about how to lock up. I text my friend, Eliot, and tell him that last night was awful. He immediately calls me, tells me to give him the address as he’s coming over with lunch, and will help me make it back down the stairs. I have to make it down the first flight of stairs before he gets there, so I get to it. I barely remember the key before I go down the stairs. I’m 3/4 of the way down and my phone rings and Eliot is here. I get to the bottom of the stairs and open the door. We have a picnic at the bottom with lemonade, subs, sushi, and fruit. At one point the pain hits hard and I’m forced to lay on the stairs and breathe hard.

Eventually I’ve gained some strength from resting and we clean up and get ready to go. It’s sprinkling as I go down the stairs, Eliot in front of me holding the umbrella over me. I feel really embarrassed and end up going faster than I should. You would think my pride had been decimated already. By the time I get to the bottom of the stairs I feel extremely nauseous and light headed. He guides me to the passenger side, makes sure I don’t fall when I step off the curb, and drives me home.

I have a hard time being physically vulnerable with people. Emotional vulnerability is universal, but physical vulnerability is scary. It’s fear. A lot of people have seen my health issues and have run away screaming because most people my age don’t have to deal with severe pain and don’t know how to.

I don’t like opening the door for friends to help me when I’m in pain. I didn’t have a choice this week.

I learned that I opened the door and my friends didn’t run away screaming and I’m really thankful for that.

Sincerely Yours,

The Undefeated