Dragons Aren't Real

The forest sounded off with birds calling to each other, as I strolled along the path from the trail head to the waterfall. I could hear the falls rumbling as I grew closer. It was over a mile from the trail head to the falls and I had stopped about three times to catch my breath.

The doctor had warned me about over exertion and today was an over exertion kind of day. My heart was pounding out a bass beat that would be the envy of most rock bands. I stopped once again and found a boulder that was perfect for a long rest.

I dropped onto the boulder, my ragged breaths coming out in heaves as I struggled to breathe. I closed my eyes and counted to twenty trying to control my breathing with little success. I pulled my inhaler from my pocket and took a deep breath and exhaled. At the pinnacle of that exhale, I inserted the mouthpiece, punched the button and inhaled. I held my breath for thirty seconds before I exhaled again and coughed fiercely, for another minute before I could breathe again.

The boulder quietly supported my grossly overweight body as I struggled to breathe normally. I had over done it this time and it would take a while for me to continue on if I dared to attempt the entire hike to the falls. As I sat there I contemplated turning back, once I had rested enough to make it back to my car. My will power was weakened in my current state of health. The doctor had diagnosed me with COPD and my life was over. Just like that. I gained weight and coughed and relied on a cabinet full of medications to help me cope. It didn’t make sense. I was healthy, energetic, and the life of the party. I could not possibly have a debilitating disease. Not me. I couldn’t accept it.

It had began as a mild cough now and again. I had rounds of antibiotics and steroids and the cough just wouldn’t go away. The doctors sent me for a lung functionality test and I had failed miserably. More tests, more rounds of steroids and inhalers and antibiotics. Of course, I gained an extraordinarily large amount of weight with the steroids and my lack of exercise because I couldn’t breathe.

It became increasingly noticeable that I was getting worse and not better with all the treatments. My work started suffering. Days would go by when I couldn’t get out of bed with out severe lung spasms. The coughing affected my work. I was unable to do my job most days now. I decided that enough was enough. I had to start pushing myself to get fit again. I couldn’t let this disease decide my life for me. My doctors frowned on my decision, they said that the more I taxed my lungs the harder it would be for me to breathe. I didn’t care. I wanted to be me again. I wanted to feel good about my work once more.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. I wouldn’t have gotten sick if I had been fit before. Well that’s where you’re wrong. I was fit. I ran marathons. I ate healthy. All organic, all plant-based protein meals that filled me up. I didn’t drink and I didn’t smoke. So what happened to cause my body to fail me in the prime of my life?

It was the dragon. Oh no you say, dragon’s aren’t real. They are myths, created to scare young ones into doing their chores or behaving in public. Well, it was real alright. It came to my window on the third story apartment building. It’s iridescent coloring swirling in my eyes. Pretty, terrifying, and mind-boggling. It called to me night after night, begging me to throw caution to the wind and climb onboard. A colorful saddle was attached to its back just behind the neck, it featured a place to put my hands, stirrups for my feet, and a belt to keep me from falling. The scaled wings gently flapped up and down behind the saddle as it hovered in place just beneath my window. Its tail stretched out behind the beast wagging back and forth like a dog’s tail when greeting its master. “Ride with me, Morgan.” It said over and over every night, like a soft whisper just behind my head. On the seventh night, I gave in. Opening the window, I stepped out and took my place on the saddled beast.

We flew into the sky, taking me high above the world. By the time we arrived back to my humble room, I was addicted. Her name was Cistrian, she told me as we flew around the world. She could breathe fire and did so on several occasions. The sulfuric stench still warms my memory of her and our adventures. She took me to mountain heights that few had people had ever climbed, we toured Shanghai-la and the Galapagos Islands. We landed at the North Pole and then barreled down to the equator to warm ourselves in the hot climate of the Amazon. Breathing fire in the sky to light our flight in darkness, she became a constant in my life.

I eagerly sped through my days, eager for her arrival every night. The entire year she came like clockwork and we would travel for a couple of hours before she would deposit me back at my room. I had finally finished my dissertation and was ready to read it to her as we flew on another adventure. She was my sounding board night after night and I could not wait to get her feedback on my paper. I opened my window and leaned out straining my eyes skyward looking for her. It was unseasonably cold and I chilled myself night after night sitting by the open window awaiting Cistrian. What had become of her? Had she been wounded or ill? My worry over her gave way to fear as night after night she failed to show. My health declined, I couldn’t focus on anything but her and what might’ve become of her. My friends and professors came by to check on me and I refused to answer the door. I was a shell of former self. The skeleton that peered at me from my mirror was hideous and I finally collapsed on the floor in my room.

I awoke to scuffling noises and an incessant beeping. I looked around and realized I was not in my apartment but in a strange bed surrounded by equipment and wires that ran from the equipment to different parts of my body. My eyes were dry and itched. A person came in the room and pushed a button on the wall and the beeping stopped. “You gave us quite the scare, young lady. I’m Rita and I’ve been taking care of you. The police found you on the floor of your apartment. Can you tell me what happened? Were you attacked?”

I stared at her confused. My head was aching and it was hard to remember just what had happened. “I don’t remember being attacked. Where am I? How did I get here exactly?” I mumbled.

“You are at St. Francis Medical Center. An ambulance brought you here. You have some very concerned friends. They called the police to do a wellness check when you wouldn’t answer the phone or door. You’re very lucky. Another day and you would not have made it.”

“How long have I been here? I must get back. She will not understand if I’m not there.” I cried.

“You’ve been in a coma for two weeks. The police did not mention anyone else living with you. Is there someone we need to notify? Your friends didn’t mention anyone close to you. They said you had never mentioned family.” Rita said, concern in her eyes showing me that she was truly worried about me.

“I don’t have any family, my parents were killed in a crash when I was twenty and I was an only child. I never knew of any relatives and my parents never said that I had any other family. No there is no one to notify on my behalf. Where are my friends, are they here?”

“They usually pop in the afternoon to check in on you. You’ve been in I.C.U. so we don’t allow but one visitor at a time. I will make sure to allow one of them to come in when they get here. They were really worried about you.” Rita said as she busied herself checking the wires and tubing running from her body to the different machines beside her bed. “Your throat will be a little sore. We had to intubate you when you first arrived because you stopped breathing. You pulled the tubing out a few days ago and were able to breath on your own so we didn’t re-intubate you. I’ll let you get some rest now. Would you care for anything? A snack, drink?”

“I could use something to drink. Could I have a diet cola?”

“I will bring you one. Be back in a minute.”

I recovered over time and my time with Cistrian became a distant memory and I slowly forgot about her altogether. My friends convinced me that it had been my mind playing tricks on me and the stress of college and writing my dissertation had been taxing my brain a little too hard. They had talked the professor into accepting my dissertation while I was recovering. They had found it crumpled up in a waste basket when the cops had found me that day. I recovered in time to walk up on stage and receive my diploma that I had worked so hard to earn.

Upon graduation, I became a physical therapist and started a regimen of physical fitness. After all, it was hard to convince your patients to do something that you were not doing. So I started working out with my patients and then I was talked into running in a local marathon and finished in the top twenty percent of the runners. I found that running cleared my brain and left room for creativity. My patients were my biggest fans and every day they worked harder to achieve the goals I set for them.

I started coughing roughly two years after I started running. My patients noticed it first. They encouraged me to seek medical attention. I was too young to have a chronic cough, they said. Most of my patients were older and much wiser than I was and I took their advise to heart. It was several months later and five different specialists that I found out that I had COPD probably caused by the coma I had suffered years earlier.

I sit on the boulder and think about my life. It was not fair. I was too young to be burdened with such a diagnosis. I finally find my breath and I get up and start back down the path towards the falls. I remember the days when I was flying high in the sky and looking down on the planet. Where did that memory come from? I was getting light-headed by the time I made it to the falls. I sit down at the edge of the water and lay back letting the water splash me. My breath is coming in jagged heaves. I can’t move. My body lies there with my eyes turned skyward. There she is. My Cistrian. She glides down and lands beside me. I climb up and …