My medical emergency flight landing

A little over a year ago, I experienced one of the worst days of my 23 years of living.

I was just sitting at work one morning when my fiance (now husband) called and said his father had a heart attack the night before. My fiance's dad and step mom were in San Antonio visiting her daughter who just recently had a baby. My fiance had the plan to leave and go see him. He wanted me to stay home. I protested. I should have listened to him and stay home. But I am a Taurus and extremely stubborn.

Since it was a last minute decision our tickets weren't cheap. We talked about how I would get sick on the plane. I typically do on the descent. My fiance told me that if I did, he would leave me at the hotel while he took care of his dad. He kept reminding me that this was about him not me. I knew that. I told him I just wanted to be there for him.

Everything seemed to be going fine. We made it to the airport. Got some lunch and then was just sitting there waiting. Maybe twenty minutes before we were supposed to board our plane. Things started to get bad. We were told that our plane was switched to a small 45 passenger plane.

I tried to think that everything was going to be okay. I was so wrong. The last time I flew was five years before on a jumbo plane to Germany. It all went smooth besides me getting sick on the descent, like I knew I would. Inside the plane, first class consisted of eight chairs, five rows. Two of those rows only had one seat on one side. We were in the economy seating, five rows behind first class. From one side of the plane to the other, it was no bigger than two van widths. Like I said, small.

We got in our seats. I had everything I thought I would need, gum, a book, music, headphones and my fiance. I was ready. It was early August when we took this flight. So I wanted my AC on. Too freaking bad though. It didn't work. I asked for water and just told myself to calm down. It will all be okay. I was suffering from dizziness at that time. My body would just throw itself into a fit and make me dizzy. I prayed it would happen that day.

As the plane started to move, my heart started pounding in my ear. I gripped the seat arm rests. I knew I had made a mistake. Three in a half hours to San Antonio, Texas from Detroit, Michigan. It was easy in the beginning to get over the dizziness, but soon I started to panic. I tried not to cry but I couldn't help it. I just rocked back and forth and sobbed in my seat. My fiance was starting to get a little upset with me. He knew this was going to happen but I didn't listen to him...

You need to calm down. He kept telling me. The word calm is now my least favorite word in the dictionary. It is rather hard to remain calm when you start hyperventilating and have nothing but hot air. I just wanted something cold on my face. The flight attendant was now at our side, making us move.

We got to move up to first class. Five rows ahead of us. HA. I could no longer hold back my pain. The plane was spinning inside my head. I couldn't catch my breath long enough to do anything but cry which made the hyperventilating worse. They tried to give me oxygen, it didn't work. But boy, it felt good to hold because it was freezing.

A person on the flight who was a nurse volunteered to help me. Nothing was working though. I kept saying that I was going to pass out. My body wouldn't let me though. I was on a roller coaster of sights. Going in and out of passing out sure made everything worse. Every thirty minutes the flight attendant kept asking if we wanted to emergency land the plane but I kept saying no.

Crying. Moaning. Cussing. Losing control of my arms and legs. A hot sweaty mess. Somehow my husband still married me after the way he saw me that day. I started to feel worse and worse. I couldn't calm down and needed off that plane. The pilot came on the intercom, "Well as you can probably hear, we are having a medical emergency on the flight and we are going to have to make a stop at Dallas Airport." I hear those words in my worst of nightmares.

As we began to descend. I got sick. I knew I would. Just didn't know the other stuff was going to happen. I was told I was going to have to go to the hospital since they emergency landed the plane, I didn't care I just wanted to be back on the ground. I wanted to feel the hard dirt and know that it is all in my head.

The rest of the night went by fast. Wheeled through the airport, avoiding all eyes staring at me. Put into the ambulance, freaked out because it started to move. Got drugged. Woke up two hours later in the hospital with my fiance holding my phone to my ear. I somehow was talking to my family then. He told me that the paramedics accidentally overdosed me, which is fine since it knocked me out.

Things went smooth then. I didn't start feeling guilty until the next morning. We had to get a rental car. We were headed back to Ohio. Dallas and San Antonio maybe three hours away driving but we knew that I couldn't get on a plane to fly back. We weren't going to drive 21 hours either. So we left Texas, without ever seeing his dad. The only reason we came. I was the reason he couldn't. It was my fault.

On the way home, we didn't talk much. I was too upset. I was too mad at myself. I knew I couldn't go back and change any of it, but God I wished I could. Still do.

I have been suffering with depression since I was sixteen. I had my bad moments and good. I hit rock bottom and climbed back up. I wanted to die and survived. Now, with the depression and guilt, I didn't know how to recover. Before it was always just me I upset. But now, I caused someone else pain. I knew they were mad at me. That is why he never told me.

My fiance knew I was feeling horrible and didn't think it made sense to make me worse. Just because he didn't say anything didn't mean I didn't know. We had to call everyone that knew we were flying to Texas and explain what happen. Everyone kept saying it was going to be fine. It wasn't though.

I costed him thousands of dollars for the flight, rental car, hotels, food. I costed him not being able to see his dad. I knew what everyone was thinking of. I knew they were all mad at me. I knew I should have listened to my fiance.

A month after the accident, I was still struggling with the guilt. I knew it was going to be sometime before I got better. But it needed to storm before it could shine bright.

We were hanging out with my fiance's mom. She got drunk and started talking about the accident. She laughed and said a bunch of things that destroyed my already fragile heart. I will never tell her that. But because of what she said, it pushed me over. I couldn't deal with the guilt anymore. I couldn't let me be the reason for so much pain. I couldn't be happier with the guilt. I loved my fiance but it was all my fault and I thought he needed someone better.

When I was lying in the bathtub, watching the tub fill up with water and my tears, I knew I wasn't going to come out alive. I knew I wanted the water to take me. I wanted to die. My fiance had no clue either. He was sleeping and I was scared to tell him.

Thinking about my life and what I did to get to that point, I just kept watching the water rise. All I could see what my fiance's face though. I could see his smile. I could see him holding me and loving me. I stood inside that tub and went and woke him up. I needed help.

It took me almost drowning myself to finally get the help I knew I needed. I started taking anxiety medication. Soon my dizzy spells were gone. I started to feel happier. I don't have many bad days anymore. My fiance and I planned to get married in Tampa Florida. A sixteen hour drive, something we knew we could handle. I slowly became someone better.

A year later, I sit here telling you my story. It still hurts to think about that day. It will probably will for awhile. I am not letting the guilt rule me though and feed my depression. My husband saw my worst day ever and still wanted to marry me. With his love, I knew I needed to stay alive. I am alive because I wanted to live my days out with him.