Confined Spaces

Prompt: Center your story around a childhood fear that-as much as you try to shake it-still resonates into adulthood.

Confined Spaces

“Help me! I can’t breathe! I never said I would do this! Tommy, get me out of here,” as I whimpered a cry. My panicky state resulted in an episode of hyperventilated breathing. The more I struggled in the confined space, the more anxious I became. I could barely muster a punch on the side of the cardboard wall.  Then, the tears began to flow as I felt abandoned and left to die. I nearly lost consciousness when the top of the washing machine box was opened by my nemesis, Tommy, my older brother.

Tommy shouted at me. “You big baby! You are the world’s biggest chicken. Chirp, chirp, chirp,” he cackled loudly. “You said you would do this! You did it on a double dare too, you pussyfoot. I should have left you in there to think about what you said. Mom always says when you are going to do something, you finish it to the end. Mom would be very disappointed in you, Danny.” Without any help from Tommy, I squirmed my way out of the cardboard box.

In the days that followed I gave serious consideration to the tongue lashing I got from my brother. Yeah, maybe he was right. I was a big baby. It was just a box that was taped up at the top. Had I been a little more resourceful, I could have pried my way out-somehow.  It might have taken a little time, but I could have done it.

One would think things like this would pass in time and all would be forgotten. I only wish. Kids at school got wind of what Tommy had done, likely spurting from his own mouth. The harassment accentuated. I became an easy target. Without warning I would be grabbed and dumped upside down in a garbage can. The perpetrators knew all too well I would go into panic mode. They mocked me calling me by the name of “Freaky.” For them it was a comical sight to see my legs flailing wildly in my upside-down position.

I needed a plan to show my brother and the world I was no baby, no chicken. I decided to push it to the limit. The question gnawed at me as to how I could do this; to prove I was not afraid of the dark spaces. I had to start small so I could control my anxiety. I practiced by forcing myself to hide under the bed and in closets. I did this routinely for weeks after school until I was called to have dinner.  No one suspected anything, especially Tommy. The efforts did not make me feel any stronger in endurance. Probably, the best result was I felt really rested as I would end up falling asleep. I would wake up hearing the shouts for dinnertime.  I never missed a meal in my lifetime and my mom knew it.

The neighborhood was gearing up for fall.  There would be one last block party to celebrate before the holidays were upon us.  For me that meant the neighborhood “hide n seek” game would be played. This year a prize would be given out to the last person found after the game ended in two hours. There was only one rule: no hiding indoors whether a house, garage, or shed. The day had come and there was much revelry on the street.  Everyone was having a good time.  The game started with kids dashing around all over the place.  I took my time to carefully think out my hiding place.  “Eureka!” I screamed inside. I found the perfect hiding place.  My next-door neighbor had an old, empty meat locker sitting out behind his garage. I stealthy approached the locker constantly looking over my shoulder for prying eyes. There were two independent lids. When I opened one of the lids I was greeted with a pungent smell of dried blood and old meat. I climbed inside. I could not afford to panic while I was hiding.  Before I closed the lid, I made sure the other lid was ajar with an old meat package. My confidence was high.  I could almost taste the sweet success of victory, but overwhelmed with old meat flavor.  I nestled into my bunker comfortably. I fell asleep. I was unaware that my dog, Schnauzer, had followed me to the locker. You would think I never fed that mutt, but his voracious appetite compelled him to pull out the meat package. The lid slammed closed. The noise startled me out of my slumber. I was trapped!

Normally, I would have panicked. I practiced slow breathing to calm my nerves and conserve my air supply. It was still early into the game and I had time to figure out an escape. I was determined at any cost not to cry out like a baby.  I would make it through this ordeal.; however, my stomach gave me a reason to doubt it. I figured it might be close to dinnertime.

Oblivious to me, the game had ended and everyone was heading home. My mom was getting worried that I had not made it home for dinner. She knew my stomach was my alarm clock. Schnauzer came in through the doggie door carrying his latest treasure in his mouth; the old meat package. He dropped it at my mom’s feet and she looked directly into Schnauzer’s eyes. “Where did you get this Schnauzer? Show me puppy dog. Show me where you got this.” Mom took the package following the dog back to where he found it. I trained that dog well. He led my mom to the meat locker. She heard a muffled thud inside the locker. Fearing the worst, she unlatched the lid. “Daniel, Daniel are you ok? Breathe Danny, breathe!” She pushed my chest as though she was attempting a form of CPR. I had turned a light shade of blue. After a few moments I gasped causing my face to turn to a shade of pallid pink. My mom cried, “Danny, you are a fighter. God is with you among the lions that want to tear you apart.” Hearing those words comforted me and I opened my eyes.

She said, “What on earth were you thinking? You nearly killed yourself!” I countered, “Yes mom, but I won the game; didn’t I? What did I win?” She said, “A coupon for free hot dogs, deli meat and hamburgers for a month.” No surprise it was from my next-door neighbor’s butcher shop. That prize was not a very good incentive to help me overcome my fear of tight spaces.

Fortunately, as time marched on, my encounters with tight spaces were very few and very far in between. Time did not allow for my fear to vanish, however. When I was in college, I took a part-time job on a sanitation crew at a food company that produces spray dried dairy powders. It was an unpopular job, but one could make aa ton of money for tuition.  I would leave the factory coated in assorted milk powders. I encountered several feral cats along the way home who instantly became my friends. One day I was assigned the job to clean out spray dryer number one, which happened to be the smallest of the six dryers used in production. Generally, there are provisions to clean equipment in place (CIP) without much labor involved or difficulty. But as luck would have it, number one was giving the sanitation crew fits to get it cleaned and the internal light source had to be replaced. The crew drew straws. Naturally, I got the shortest straw. Despite the red warning placard which said, “Danger! Confined Space! Do not Enter!” I crawled headfirst inside the conical shaped vessel through the only access portal which was about two feet wide.  

It was a tight fit through the portal. There was less room inside. I felt like an astronaut crammed into a space capsule. The portal opening did not allow for much light.  I began the arduous scraping of the dryer walls. Dried powder and soot fell onto my hair and face. I tried to focus on the task at hand, but anxiety was building deep within me. I breathed in slow, deep rhythmic gulps of air. I was nearly done with the scraping, but I could not reach the light source. My heart raced and my breathing was shallow now. Sweat poured down my forehead. I was in hyper panic mode.  I yelped “Get me out of here!” Instantly, I was yanked through the tight portal hole to safety. None of my working comrades would speak to me. The next day I was fired.

Oh the beauty of the dawning of a new day! Past experiences, as I have learned, do not always give way to a new understanding of a change in one’s self. Even if they did there are times when a new understanding of my behavior would not have changed in certain situations. Some situations were totally out of my control. 

There was the case of my fight back from Europe to New York. It was soon after the plane cleared take off that I had to use the onboard lavatory. Despite my preboarding preparations, I still had to go. I hastily went to the back of the plane and entered the stall. Naturally, I secured the door lock but I heard a brittle snap, like a piece of metal coming from the inside of the door. Ignoring it, I proceeded with my business. Afterwards, I unlatched the door, or so I thought. I could not open the door. Passengers knocked heavily on the door thinking I was taking my sweet time. I looked for an emergency call button but there was none. It was an older model jet. I started to raise my voice pleading for assistance.  Finally after thirty minutes, a flight attendant responded to me.  She shouted through the door, “Remain calm. We hope to have you out in no time at all.”  I looked at my watch. The hours dragged on. Finally, there was some drilling near the handle. But nothing happened.  I was sweating profusely. I decided to wet my face with some of the non-potable water from the sink.   I scanned my watch again. Two hours had passed since my imprisonment. This international flight could take as long as seven or eight hours if there were no delays. I calmly pleaded again to get me out quickly.  I heard again a not so reassuring voice telling me, “Remain calm. We hope to have you out in no time at all.” I quietly yelped and whimpered. I was now trapped for over four hours!  I tried to look at the positives. There were none, except I could pee whenever I needed to. The flight attendant told me that I needed to brace myself for landing. No kudos for the pilot on landing the plane because I bounced around like a basketball. My body must have directly hit the door because I popped out into the aisleway to the cheers of the other passengers. After I disembarked a representative met me to give me a hundred-dollar voucher for my next flight because of my inconvenience. 

Nothing outrageous has happened pertaining to my claustrophobia since that flying experience. Until now. The years have crept up on me. My Schnauzer and my mom are no longer with me.  I look in the mirror taking in how time has changed my appearance. Lately I have been fatigued with achy joints and general malaise like nausea and headaches. I figured it was time to see the doctor.  The blood work he ordered was indicating something was amiss. My inflammatory marks were sky high. He ordered a PET scan and a 3D MRI to determine if there were any distinguishable events happening in my body, like tumors.

I was uncertain what to expect as I never had either one of these scans. The first thing the technician asked if I have issues with small spaces. I chuckled inside when I heard that. I figured at this late game in my life it really did not matter. I would deal with the confined space. First was the PET scan. The tube was a mere six inches from my nose. The process was very disturbing as I had to lay there motionless for 30 minutes with my arms stretched above my head. I thought of what my mom had said about Daniel in the lions’ den.  So I mustered up the fortitude to finish knowing this tube would not eat me alive.

A few days later I prepped myself mentally for the 3D MRI. I thought it would be similar to my first scan.  Oh, wishful thinking on my part.  The tube was a mere twenty-four inches in diameter. I was spellbound by how small it was.  I said to the technician, “Seriously, I have to fit through that? My shoulders are just as wide as the tube.” The technician indifferently said, “Then you will have to travel to another location about five hours from here. That opening is twenty-eight inches. It is a wide bore MRI.” I said, “Swell, another four inches and you consider it a wide bore?  Plus, five hours of driving to get there? OK, let’s do this thing.” The tech reminded me not to move during the duration of the test. A contrast dye will be administered through an IV the tech had inserted during the last five minutes of the test.   Furthermore, the tech added there will be excessive vibrations and noise because of the high intensity magnets.   I was given soft ear plugs and a noise dampening headset to wear. I was handed an emergency stop button in case it was too much.

I lay face up in a prone position on the sliding sled.  Slowly, the sled inched up to the portal of the machine. Now my head was in the machine. My arms were outstretched above my head. My nose was less than an inch from the inside of the tube. I told myself, “OK I can handle this.”  Then, the technician activated the machine.   A small whirr turned into an earthshaking rumble.  The whole unit violently convulsed as the magnets kicked in. Monotonous “eeeerrrrrs, ratattttt, and “shzzzzzzzz” blared loudly as the unit continued to spasm and vibrate.  I really thought I would not make it out alive of this demonic contraption. I remained adamant I would not press the emergency button. I did the only thing I could do in this situation. I prayed. I remembered that my mother said the lions “in the den” (MRI tube) would not get me with God at my side. So, I prayed; and I prayed again. I didn’t stop until the test was over.

Once I was removed from tube, the technician asked me how I was doing.  I said “I confronted my demons and won the battle. Now the war begins.”

Bottom-line lesson I learned in my faith? Don’t go it alone facing your demons without God at your side.

At the first light of dawn, the king got up and hurried to the lions’ den.  When he came near the den, he called to Daniel in an anguished voice, “Daniel, servant of the living God, has your God, whom you serve continually, been able to rescue you from the lions?”

Daniel answered, “May the king live forever! My God sent Hs angel, and He shut the mouths of the lions. (Daniel 6: 19-22a, NIV)

The Lord is my light and my salvation— whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life— of whom shall I be afraid? (Psalm 27:1, NIV)



Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. The Lord, the Lord himself, is my strength and my defense. He has become my salvation. (Isaiah 12:2, NIV)

NIV=New International Version

Author: Peter Gautchier

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