Continued from Where the Buffalo Roam:

As Mel and I made our way to the trailhead leading to camp and dusk began our fourth night in the canyon, the wind sent thick clouds of dust swirling around us. We didn’t know it at the time, but Mountain Cedar season and the cotton harvest were both in full swing. The dry cold and high winds paired with dust and allergens in the air created a perfect storm for allergy sufferers like myself.

When we stopped to fill our reserves I felt lightheaded, and by the time we approached camp a tightness in my chest had developed; but we were exhausted, so we ate dinner, and drifted to bed. I awoke with labored breath after only half an hour, but just puffed an inhaler a couple of times and passed out again. The next 3 hours were much of the same. While I struggled to keep my calm, Mel tossed and turned; her sleep troubled by a series of vivid dreams which crossed her consciousness in the early hours of the night.

One: She woke surprised by the content of her vision. There was something there; or someone. A native spirit issuing from the soil of the canyons; unfamiliar, and untamed. But the feeling faded as quick as it had come, and soon it was lost to her awareness as her lids fell heavily back over her eyes.

Two: The features of the figure before her were hazy, almost impossible to make out. It was powerful though; foreboding, and unmistakably masculine. A thick hide stretching tightly to the edges of a massive drum before him came alive with thunder as he hammered an ominous measure. The concussive pulse grew loud and quick, finally breaking through her troubled slumber. She tried to shake the memory as her heartbeat sought composure, and after a time faded to sleep again.

Three: The warriors mask he bore was carved from a sacred timber tempered by an unforgiving land, chiseled to course facets, and singed black as night. A king’s head-dress unfurled around him like the wings of an eagle spreading to take flight. Without a sound he drifted slowly toward her, his feet never touching the ground. The imposing presence eclipsed her vision in shadow as his unflinching stare moved closer and closer. She startled awake a third time; her eyes wide open and ears fixed on a sound. Her name…

“Mel!” I called in a state of panic. “I…can’t…breathe!” Each word barely made out between a sharp gasp for oxygen. Although it was nearly freezing outside, I was sweltering, my heart beating out of my chest as I tried to exit the tent for some cool air. I would have collapsed if Mel had not jumped up to support me. My body’s natural response to the lack of O2 was to inhale faster, but a tightening of my airways caused insufficient exhalation, and rapid breathing led to carbon dioxide overloading my system. An asthma attack was unfamiliar to me, and the experience of suffocation sent me into a full-on panic attack. It was 12:00.

We were over 2 miles from the car, and 9 miles from a park center where we could get cell service to call for help. Rescue was far, far away, and after taking nearly 30 minutes to walk to a tree only 30 yards from camp, we knew I wasn’t going to make it out under my own power. While we huddled near the tree we agreed that Mel would run for help. After trudging slowly back to the tent, we hugged for a few precious moments before she left. I didn’t know if I’d see her again. It was 1:03 am.

Mel grabbed a headlamp and assured me she’d be back by 3:00. “Just keep breathing,” she said, and then she was gone, swallowed by the night. I contracted to my knees, my fists pressing firmly into the ground as a bitter cold crept into the tent all around me and I struggled to keep calm and keep breathing. My diaphragm swelled with each inhale. My back and abs wrenched to keep exhales as steady and long as possible in order to avoid panic and hypoxia. One count in. Four counts out.

“It can’t end like this,” I thought staring at the ground in front of me. I felt sadness come over me, and then fear. I witnessed scenes from my life falling like photos to the ground in front of my vision. Some images were puzzling. Some were just fusions of pattern and texture. At one point my awareness was taken into an aerial view of a moon soaked canyon. My perspective moved slowly over its deep blue and purple features. Leaves on the shadowy trees below almost sparkled as they reflected the moonlight. Not a single thought crossed my mind while I traveled, not a sound as I was propelled as if by a subtle wind. Not until I began to rise into the atmosphere and my view of the canyon widened.

My vision grew hazy again and my awareness was suddenly focused back in front of me. Breathing was physically excruciating. To be honest the flight, whatever that was, felt like a relief from my current reality, even if just for a moment. Every noise in the distance prompted my full attention. “How would rescue come? A helicopter? No! Too expensive. Let it be a land based crew,” I hoped. I would have been happy however support came, but a four-wheeler or utility vehicle of some kind was my preference.

After what seemed like an eternity my name rang out in the distance. Mel and the State Police Officer we met our first day scooped me out of the tent and hauled me to a waiting truck. It was a rough and fast ride back through the woods and riverbeds to an ambulance crew who rushed me in and quickly got to work. They stabilized me on the way to a nearby town, Mel close in tow. From there we drove 40 miles to a hospital where we waited to see if my condition would improve. It didn’t, so I was wheeled into the emergency room, and after a barrage of treatments in the ER I was admitted. My condition fluctuated several times as O2 levels dipped into the 70s and my resting heart rate climbed over 150. Steroids, tranquilizers, breathing treatments, and oxygen at a rate of 15 liters per minute followed. Later we found they were preparing me for intubation and a life-flight to a larger hospital, but the same strong winds which brought on the attack made aerial transport in the region impossible. Thankfully they were able to get a handle on things by the time my parents arrived some 6.5 hours later. After two days I was released and was able to travel the dusty road back home.

It’s not every day we have the opportunity to evaluate our limits, but that day Mel rose to the occasion. Not only did she keep her calm like a champ; she ran over two miles in pitch black night – through woods, creeks, and thick bramble – the whole time recalling bends and dips in the trails plotted earlier and analyzing the steps required to get to the car, then the park station, to call for help, and finally to lead rescuers back to our site.

My gratitude goes out to the officers, volunteers, doctors, nurses and rangers who were involved in my rescue and return to health; and to Mel’s sister, Heather, whose medical advice played a major role in my recovery. This experience has been a looking-glass into the kindness and selflessness of strangers.

It has given me new perspective on my Love for my family, and reinforced my Love and appreciation for Melissa who literally saved my life that night. It has also enlightened my perspective on life.

I asked, “What will it take to commit to real change in our lives.” Some answers come in words, some instead in visions. Mine came as a swift and stern hand. It’s message: WAKE UP!