For two nights in a row, it became too chilly in the back bedroom for my damaged lungs to cope. As I lay in bed, I could feel the chill creeping in. At first, it was just a gentle caress of cool air against my skin. But as the night wore on, the cold grew stronger and more insistent, until it was impossible to ignore.

My damaged lungs were already struggling to keep up, and the cold only made things worse. Every breath felt like I was inhaling shards of ice, each one cutting deeper into my fragile respiratory system. This is due to the cancer I suffered in my late twenties, which did a lot of damage; the necessary chemical treatments even more so furthered the devastation. Damaged lungs were the worst of all the side effects; but it was either suffering that fate or breathing no more.

I tried to ignore the discomfort, which I’ve felt so many times, to will myself to sleep; but these past couple of nights, it was no use trying. The chill was too intense and overwhelming. I pulled the blankets tighter around me, and even added my thermal blanket into the mix, but these covers offered little relief.

It wasn’t just the temperature that was getting to me, though, but the darkness, too. The back bedroom where we slept was shrouded in shadows. Without the white noise of my air purifier, beyond the occasional gust of a westerly wind, there was deafening silence. It was as if the entire world was holding its breath, waiting for something terrible to happen.

For two nights in a row, I would endure this icy purgatory. Each morning, I woke up exhausted, my lungs burning, and my body trembling with cold. It was a relief to leave that room, to step out into the warmth of the living room, the soft glow of my daylight lamp a welcome presence for my tired mind.

But as night fell again, I knew that I would have to face it once more. The chill was waiting for me, ready to pounce the moment I lay down. My damaged lungs were powerless to stop it. As I lay shivering in my bed, struggling to catch my breath in the icy darkness, a line from a song floated through my mind. It was a song called “Youth” by Daughter. The line that kept repeating itself was this:

“And if you’re still breathing, you’re the lucky ones

‘Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs”

I’m particularly fond of this song, better known for the line, “We are the reckless, we are the wild youth.” It might seem like an odd association to make, given the context. After all, I was hardly feeling reckless or wild at that moment. But there was something about this song that resonated with me, something that captured the essence of what I was feeling.

There’s a sense of vulnerability that comes with being young, a feeling that you’re not quite sure of your place in the world, that you’re not quite sure of yourself. That’s exactly how I felt lying there in the cold, struggling to breathe. I felt small and helpless, at the mercy of forces beyond my control. But more importantly, I felt much too young to be suffering this way.

At the same time, the defiance of the song’s lyrics helped me to power through the difficult night. It speaks of a willingness to embrace the unknown and to face whatever challenges lay ahead with a sense of fearlessness. This is the spirit I’d tap into as I lay there, battling the chill.

Through meditating over this song’s lyrics, I felt like I was reclaiming some youthful energy, a sense of reckless abandon. Although my body was weak and vulnerable, my spirit was still strong. I wouldn’t be defeated by the cold and the darkness. I refused to give up.

As the night wore on, this song became a kind of mantra for me. It was a reminder that I’m still fairly young and still capable of facing the world with courage and determination. Even if my damaged lungs might hold me back at times, many of us, myself included, are still part of that wild youth. Until my dying breath, I’m still a part of that reckless collective consciousness that refuses to be tamed.

~ Amelia Desertsong

Lyrics courtesy of Genius.