The Month of Living Dangerously (Suzanne Forster)

As I write this post I’m still fighting off the effects of carbon monoxide poisoning from a leaky furnace here at the condo in Olympia, so if I’m making even less sense than usual, you’ll know why. A friend called yesterday afternoon and woke me from a deep nap. She mentioned that I’d been sleeping a lot lately and had complained of feeling tired. That was true, but I had been dismissing it as the kind of battle fatigue that comes from years of commuting to care for my mother, while trying to keep up with deadlines and all of the other stresses of being chief cook, bottle washer, and breadwinner, at home.

Really, it was plenty of reason to feel tired. I explained to my friend that the well had run dry and it was going to take some time to fill back up. I don’t think she was entirely convinced—and well she shouldn’t have been. Even as we spoke, I was being exposed to levels of CO that registered at 2000 parts per million, twice the limit considered dangerous, but I had no idea.

There’s no way to smell or detect CO. At first, you feel almost pleasantly sleepy and drugged and all you want to do is sleep, at least that was my experience. After my friend called, I decided to get up and go out. I knew I didn’t feel quite right, but I didn’t seem to be sick. I had no fever, but I was groggy and felt achy, and getting dressed took enormous effort. Once outside I recovered very quickly and began to feel like myself again.

I was still doing okay when I got back home an hour and a half later. I talked on the phone to another friend and to Allan, my husband, and by the time I was done, I felt tired again. I fell asleep almost immediately, on top of the bed, fully dressed, and woke up at midnight thinking I must have come down with something. I could hardly drag myself up to get ready for bed. Somehow I must have managed it, because I put my nightgown on, but I don’t remember most of it. I do remember that the back of my neck was throbbing and I was extremely lethargic and achy, and all I wanted to do was sleep.

At four in the morning I woke up with a sense of dread. I knew something was terribly wrong, but didn’t have any idea what it could be. It was hard to focus my thoughts, and I didn’t have the strength to get up, but my mind wouldn’t let me go back to sleep again, as much as I wanted to. I actually felt like one of the protagonists in my suspense novels, whose mind was forcing her to go over the suspects again and again, until she figured out which one was out to get her.

I can remember thinking I may have been drugged at dinner at the little Mexican place I love and frequent quite often when I’m here. Or maybe it was the decaf coffee I’d picked up afterward at a Starbucks. Could it have been laced with something? Could one of the sampler lotions I’d tried at the department store have a deadly substance that absorbed through the skin? Was this a several allergic reaction? Had I breathed in something bad?

I’m amazed I was able to think at all, but my mind kept coming back to that last thing. Was it something I’d breathed? And that’s when it hit me—not that I was inhaling carbon monoxide, that never occurred to me, but somehow, in my delirium, I told myself to go open a window, that fresh air might help. I remember groping my way to the window in total darkness and struggling to get the blinds out of my way. I only opened the glass a crack and went straight back to bed. There was a storm blowing outside, and it was freezing, but I suspect that icy current of air probably saved my life.

When I woke up this morning, I felt somewhat better and was greatly relieved. Maybe it was nothing serious. I shut the windows, turned up the heat and got busy trying to write my blog for Storybroads, although it was a completely different subject at that time. But I couldn’t concentrate at all. I was getting a headache and struggling to stay awake when another friend called. Thank God for my friends! I told her my symptoms, and she immediately mentioned CO poisoning, which she’d had some experience with. I didn’t take her too seriously, although I did open a window.

I also got up, thinking I might be able to shake off the lethargy with some physical activity. I put in a load of laundry, did the dishes in the sink and fixed myself some breakfast. But I was much too sick to eat anything. By the time I sat down at the table, I was overcome with nausea and my head was splitting. All I wanted to do was lie down, but I got myself to the computer, looked up CO poisoning, and there I was, a textbook case.

After fifteen minutes of detox on the back deck, breathing brisk, rain-washed air into my lungs and flushing out the nasty carbon monoxide, I went back inside and called the gas company. They have an emergency service for leaks, and a man was there within minutes. As he approached the furnace, his monitor went crazy. It reminded me of a Geiger counter.

When he was done with his investigation, he told me in technical terms what I already knew—that the furnace was trying to kill me. He suggested I go to a 24-hour clinic and get checked out because carbon monoxide replaces the oxygen in your blood stream and can cause permanent neurological dysfunction at moderate levels and death at higher levels. I didn’t go to the clinic because my symptoms had already begun to clear up after airing out the condo and taking a walk around the block.

As you can imagine it’s a little chilly here in the condo. The furnace has been off all day, and I’m holed up in the bedroom with a space heater, which the gas guy promised was 100% electric and would not try to kill me. I’m telling myself it’s going to be okay because I’m leaving for Newport Beach tomorrow, where it’s in the high seventies, if I don’t freeze before then.

I’m not sure how to sum up this particular trip to Olympia, home of my youth, except as one dicey experience. The day after I got here, I barely escaped a blowout in my mom’s intrepid old Honda. All four tires had to be replaced because one had a bulge as big as an orange, according to the mechanic who looked at it. I also had my credit card numbers stolen, was mistaken for the thief, surrounded by the store’s management and security and grilled for what seemed like hours. And just this morning, I almost bought the farm because of a faulty furnace. I can tell you I’d much rather write about brushes with death than experience them.

Still, my visit here had moments I wouldn’t have missed, even given the scares.
Those of you who read my last post know about some of the treasures we discovered hidden among my mom’s things. Also, about the wonderful times I had with family and friends, imaginary and otherwise.

Next week, from the relative warmth of my home in Newport and the safety of a working furnace, I’ll share more about the 135-year old document I found in my mom’s lingerie drawer. It has turned out to be quite a rare and unusual find, and has opened up tremendous curiosity about my family’s history. Apparently some of my ancestors were as scandalous as others were accomplished.

And now, let me sign off with some words of caution. If you value your life and the lives of your loved ones, please have your furnaces checked and get yourself a CO detector. The gas company rep told me this is the dangerous season. Furnaces have been off all summer and they need to be checked out and ducts cleaned for heavy winter usage. He also mentioned that carbon monoxide causes more deaths than any other kind of poison. Please don’t become one of those statistics!!!

Love and good health to all,
Suz