An Experiment: Hold your breath [sic]
I feel like I’ve been holding my breath. Take in oxygen and just hold it. Mouth closed. Nose sealed. I just hold it.
Aerobic respiration doesn’t stop. Without a steady flow of some oxygen reaching the heart, the process just recycles an ever dwindling supply. Carbon dioxide builds up to unhealthy levels. It fills up the lungs. The body needs oxygen.
(30 seconds)
(Now, 2 minutes)
You just keep holding it. It’s past uncomfortable now. Even blowing out the carbon dioxide from your lungs won’t help anymore. Now you’re just as uncomfortable, but now your body feels empthy. You feel like if you don’t open your mouth to take in some air, you’ll pass out.
Breathe…or you’ll pass out.
Pass out? I feel alert. Just focused on discomfort.
(4 minutes, 15 seconds)
Bronchial tubes opening and closing like a fish’s mouth after you plop it onto a pier. Heart pumping faster and faster, getting less and less. Veins, capillaries, and arteries constricting. The body wasn’t designed for this. Less oxygen’s reaching the brain. This is where the experiment stops.
[Compared to the other organs, the brain’s the needy one of the group. Heart; liver; kidneys; spleen: all of these can survive outside of the host completely, stay disconnected from oxygen-rich blood, maintain composure in large temperature variences, and be transplanted for up to a couple of days. The brain gets damaged after even a slight drop from homeostasis. But being the control center, it does things to protect itself.]
The corners of my vision blur and disappear. It’s all closing in now. I’ve taken this renegade experiment way too far, and now the authorities are coming in after me. I’m Lybia and Muammar al-Gaddafi’s at the door. At least I know it’s going to be a bloodless coup.
(Screen cuts to black)
And then things fix itself. The body takes clumsy, panic breaths in. The orders are coming in from above: send oxygen in, send carbon monoxide out; do it quickly.
Vision sharpens. I’m back in control. Air never felt so sweet.
Back to normal.
(5 minutes, 17 seconds)
I want to go to school again. I want to work again. Everything’s like breathing; if you hold it in too long, it’s just a painful, annoying mess. But unlike breathing, in life, there’s no dead-man’s switch. Time to roll up the sleeves and get breathing again.
