My lungs keep rejecting the oxygen over and over and over. It won’t go in. I have a full-blown panic attack in front of twenty Super-Nice Lutherans from Wisconsin, which is basically the worst thing that could ever happen to me. And I don’t even know when she came up to me, but all of a sudden I realize that Sharon’s hands are on my shoulders, and she says, “You’re okay. I’m right here. You’re okay.” Her strong hands were somehow keeping the lid on for me so something didn’t escape that I needed, like my sanity or the ability for my body and mind to be in the same place at the same time. She
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