"Even with darkness sealing us in
We breathe Your name.
And through the days that follow so fast
We trust in You.
Endless Your grace,
O endless Your grace
Beyond all mortal dream
Both now and forever
And unto ages and ages.
Amen"
from Pilgrims' Hymn, Stephen Paulus
In an article in Psychology Today, Joseph E. LaDoux, PhD, postulates that there is no "fear center" in the brain. He also suggests that although unconscious responses to danger originate in the amygdala, it is not correct to say that, as most scientists do, this is the "fear center" of the brain. He has come to believe that fear is a conscious response and not an unconscious one. In other words the adrenaline, cortisol and other powerful neurotransmitters that surge from your brain through your nervous system in a split second is there because you requested them. For better or for worse our brain is a "your wish is my command" organism. It accommodates whatever physical and mental state we want to be in.
Over the years I have had several very close calls. To say "I almost got killed" would not be correct because only in one case was I even hurt that much. In that case the ER attendant said, "You're very lucky you didn't break your neck". But I was very lucky. I didn't break my neck.
This situation is certainly not one when my life was in any immediate danger. And yet for about two minutes you could not have convinced my nervous system that that was not the case. Truth be known, it was probably a combination of "I think I am about to die" with "I hope I'm about to die." When I listen to Pilgrims' Hymn I always think of miners who get trapped underground. Unless there was an explosion, many of them stay underground in near darkness or complete darkness for days until they are rescued or until they die. So I explain what happened to me with deep apologies to those who were actually hopelessly trapped. And especially to the families of those who actually died.
My job involves inspecting the crawl spaces of houses. The industry vernacular is "crawl a house" or just "crawl." You do not need to explain to anyone in the office that it was a house you crawled under. The bitter irony for me of this occupational hazard is that I am somewhat claustrophobic and I am somewhat afraid of the dark. Then this reality is rather funny; I don't really like getting hot and dirty. These are cruel combinations for someone who has spent as much time as I have under someone's house. My number one fear is to have a flashlight failure in a remote corner of the space. A close second to that is that I get stuck with no one near to help me. To deal with the first scenario, I carry an extra light in my pocket. To deal with the second, I am very careful not to squeeze myself into a space where I might get stuck.
Crawling a house is to maneuver an obstacle course in the dark. The only light is what you have in your hand. If you turn it off, as I have done from time to time, you are in complete darkness. Each crawl space has its own personality. You respect each one and you're very careful in each one. To say you're risking your life is a bit of an overstatement,, but deaths do happen. Technicians have been bitten by poisonous snakes and many have been electrocuted. Some spaces are open; many are tight and cramped. In those you have to crawl over and under duct work, plumbing and be very careful of live electrical current. The more stuff I crawl past, over and under the more claustrophobic I get. My psyche is well aware that all of these obstacles are now between me and the crawl door. Every. Single.One.
On this particular morning I was crawling a large cabin near Reliance, Tennessee. One of the reasons I say that my life was never in danger is because the owners were home. They would have eventually missed me and come looking for me. But I still shudder to consider how long that might have taken. The crawl space was very crowded. I had crawled over and under a lot of stuff to get to the very back corner of the space. I was already more than a little apprehensive with the situation. As I said, I'm very careful, but what happened I had no way to see coming. The large PVC pipe was too low to crawl under but almost too high to crawl over. I opted to go over it. I put once leg over careful not to knock it down with my body weight. Only after I lifted my other leg over the pipe did I realize the predicament I had put myself in. My flashlight now revealed that the metal duct work in front of me was much too low to crawl under. I also realized that in the extremely cramped space there was no way to go back over the PVC. I was stuck. Norepineprine, acetycholine, adrenaline and cortisol exploded in my nervous system. And according to Dr. LaDoux, I requested them. My body was simultaneously freezing cold and sweating hot. My heart was racing, my breathing was labored, and my hands were shaking. I was in trouble.
Because of some therapy regarding panic, I started doing the things I had been taught. "Slow your breathing. Slow your breathing. Slow your breathing. Calm yourself down. The panic is not your friend". After I settled down a bit I did the next thing, "Take inventory of your situation and find a way out." I was able to turn and shine my light in a direction I had not looked. There in front of me was a huge flexible duct pipe. It's the largest duct work I had ever seen. I looked at it and again considered my options. "You can stay here in this cramped spot for an indefinite amount of time or you can crawl under that pipe." I crawled toward the pipe and pushed my arms and head under far enough to see if it gave. And it did. At this point, of course, I had no idea if I would get stuck under it or what was on the other side of it. The frying pan into the fire? I mustered my courage, pushed my arms underneath, pulled my head under and pushed with my feet. As my head and torso were completely under the weight of the pipe, my head broke free on the other side. In that second with my flashlight I realized two things, there was nothing else in my way and I was going to be able to pull the rest of my body through. It was a very tight squeeze to say the least, but within seconds I was free.
In that accident I didn't break my neck. I could have died, but I didn't. In that crawl space I didn't almost die. Technically, I didn't even get stuck. I felt like I was stuck. My nervous system certainly thought I was stuck. As it turned out my forward progress was only hindered for a few minutes.
There are many more ways to "get stuck" than in a crawl space, aren't there? We've all been stuck in one way or another. I'm offering little advice, but if you're stuck there is always a way out. You just have to figure it out. I'm writing this because I broke free. It wasn't a pleasant experience, but I did what I had to do to get unstuck. Slow your breathing. Calm down. Use available light to survey the situation. And find a way out.
Because of changes in my job responsibilities I don't crawl houses all that often anymore. I can't say that I miss it very much. But I'm grateful for the lessons that crawl spaces have taught me. And, frankly, I'm very proud of myself for diving through those crawl doors into the unknown. Like so many jobs we do, the best part is when it's done. After spending forty-five minutes in a damp, dark, crowded crawl space with spider webs and camel crickets in my face, there is nothing like finally crawling into the light of day. There I am greeted by my best friends-- dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin and endorphins. "Endless Your grace. O endless Your grace. Both now and forever. Amen."
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