I know better.
I really know better.
What happened today should never have happened, but it did, and I hope this story serves as a reminder for all of us.
Before bed last night, I told the children we would "try to do school in the Raptor tomorrow. We need to work out all the kinks before we head out."
With an extension cord through the door to power two heaters, we all went to bed and slept peacefully and warm. Remember, our converter went out Friday night, and the new one wouldn't arrive until late Monday afternoon; we were powerless until then.
The morning progressed with chores and breakfast. Then, each child found a spot in the Raptor to work on their core subjects. One by one, they finished quickly. Malachi was the last to finish up, and I found him cuddled on the couch.
"Mom, can you quiz me on my math," he asked.
"Sure," and I dropped into the couch to snuggle and help him finish his assignment. He breezed through his lesson and then picked up his Language Arts without me prompting him.
Slowly, I found myself drifting off to sleep. This should have been my first clue.
I never nap. I am the energizer bunny and don't stop moving until I sleep at night.
"All done," and then he slammed his book closed.
"Okay, kiddo, you can go out and play," I said, barely waking from my impromptu nap.
I was alone in the Raptor, and it was warm and snuggly, probably around 85-88 degrees.
(All you crazy snowbirds probably think, "Ug, that's too hot." But it isn't for Arizonians; it's lovely. I love it when it's in the 80s and even low 90s...heavenly.)
I had a cold last week, and my sudden sleepiness I attributed to being worn down and needing rest.
"I think I'll just head upstairs and rest for a bit. I won't set an alarm; I doubt I will fall asleep," I thought.
That was the last thing I remember.
Where I live, the high was 88 degrees today. However, inside the Raptor, it quickly got to over 100 degrees, and I was asleep and completely unaware that I was slowly cooking to death.*
About an hour went by when suddenly the door opened, and Jubilee walked into the central area of the Raptor to grab something. She had no idea I was asleep in the bedroom at the top of the stairs.
My mind heard the noise, but I couldn't make sense of it; I felt drugged and unable to move or wake up. I knew I had to get her attention, but nothing worked. Not my voice, not my arms, and definitely not my mind.
I gave it one final push as she walked back toward the door to exit again. "Who's there?" I barely whispered.
"Mom? It's Jubilee. Where are you?
"...in here..." I managed to say.
I heard her footsteps on the stairs and could tell when she reached the top.
"Jubilee, I need you to make sure I get out of the Raptor. Don't let anything stop me. Okay?"
Curious, she asked, "Okay, why?"
I couldn't answer. I tried to sit up, but the room was spinning, and I couldn't make anything clear in my head. I just knew that somehow, some way, I had to get out of there, even if I had to throw myself down the stairs to do it.
My next memory was of the rapid cool air that hit me as soon as Jubilee opened the front door. Somehow, I made it to the house and collapsed into bed, trying to get the room to stop spinning and bring down my core temperature. I was hot to the touch and stayed that way for quite some time. I was also unable to administer first aid or even ask for it. For the most part, I was mentally gone.
Another miracle occurred when Bill unknowingly came home early for lunch. Even though another hour had passed, I was still unable to talk much.
Another kid (I couldn't tell who it was, but it wasn't Jubilee) walked past my door, and again, I whispered, "Get Daddy."
Praise God for super-obedient children. My voice was not urgent; it was weak and emotionless. I was barely audible, but I heard them say almost flippantly, "Dad, Mom wants you."
None of the children knew what was happening; I was too out of it; they must have thought I was tired.
When Bill rounded the corner, he could tell immediately something was off. Remember, his wife never naps and is rarely stationary during the day.
Feeling a bit better, I was able to tell him what I remembered. He got me drinking fluids and helped me cool down further.
I shudder to think about what would have happened had I been in the Raptor much longer.
Twelve years ago, I helped save Jubilee's life. Today, she unknowingly returned the favor.
After about five hours, I finally began to feel normal again and told her how she saved me. We hugged for a very long time. Honestly, that's too much for a 12-year-old to bear; I probably should have kept that to myself for a few more years. But I am so grateful for her natural internal instincts, which she listens to without question. She doesn't remember why she went to the Raptor at that moment, but I do. God prompted her tender heart.
*When Bill got home for lunch, the Raptor's internal temperature was 109 degrees. We have no idea what it was when I was asleep, but it was close to that, and I pray it wasn't hotter.
Comments