In the air

There are experiences in life that seem inconceivable. Things that seem so far out there, they would have to be made-up, or from a movie. Invisible things in particular are often the hardest to contend with, quite obviously as their existence are known only through their effects. Invisible things do have real implications, and yet are often reviled to the realms of subjectivity or psychology. Subjective experiences become classist issues, or issues of power and dominance. A place where the strength of the voices, number of voices, or outrageousness of the voices are what validates truth. Yet, the truth has always been harder for me to find, to get to, and when it was…it was somehow quietly always in plain view. Back to the conflict in conceivable and inconceivable experience, and the rise in awareness of forces people have long used: psychological conflict tactics. Mind wars which seem to echo the actions of physical wars. And while a great lot of the worlds population has profited from the physical war taking place someplace else, a more sobering reality about the allegedly safe environments we are inhabiting invites a sinking into the depths of human experience. Are people safer living on the surface? Personally, I think they are more easily subjected to weather, whims, and falsifications. It requires labor to dig, fortitude to find out, and even more courage to continue living free from cynicism of the heart after facing the starkness of reality in all its conflicting glory. Still years after the experience I’m about to share, linger remnants of doubt. Lab results, documented physical symptoms, research journals, and news articles don’t seem to be enough-but are all that remain. The reach for closure found its way through the desire to do everything I can, so no one else has to endure such an encounter with confusion; to offer some kind of a guide though invisible matters. ____ I’ll never forget how difficult to describe the wretched stink was. I’ll never forget my coworkers gasp, “What is that! Where is that coming from?” I had sat right beneath the air vent, where whatever made the foul smell, poured straight into the office. While I focused on my work tasks in an attempt to block out the smell, the indescribable disgust inspired groans from my coworkers filled my ears. My forehead tingled, and fatigue flooded my bones. I could step outside to get some relief, make sure I was not dreaming, and try to use focusing my mind to overcome my senses. A bad smell is a bad smell; “So what,” I thought. I’ve changed dirty diapers, worked in the stench of food service, cleaned horrific living spaces, but this stench was undeniable; something of putrid sewage, soured air conditioning chemicals, wet basement, and dirty socks; a smell so stiff it lingered in my mind. Eventually the smell eased up over the next several days, but strange smells continued to come and go from the office for weeks. People began to arrive to work sick. A common practice during flu season of people wanting to secure their employment and livelihoods; so I didn’t think much about it. Focused into a quiet sense of duty, I, along with my coworkers forged on. My colleagues really did look sick. Red and runny noses, watering eyes, coughs. So even though I did not appear ill in the same way, I wondered what was really going on. I felt deeply fatigued, had intense pressure behind my eyes, swollen lymph nodes, tender and tingling muscles, and as mentioned…a tingling forehead. I would arrive feeling fine and slowly after a few hours start to experience confusion, with occasional dizziness. As a yoga practitioner for decades, having led breathing practices as an instructor, the symptoms which doctors tried to write off as anxiety did not make sense. I was never more calm. I joked if I was any calmer I might be dead. I tried to write off my senses, thinking I don’t look even half as sick as my colleagues, and therefore must be fine. One day, on my way to take a break, I overhead someone talking about how exhausted they felt, mentioning some strange tingling and confusion. I asked what was up. After chatting a few minutes, my colleague suggested I bring up how I was feeling with the Environmental Safety Officer, and that it was best to go in person to his office in the basement of the building. She said several people, including students, had been complaining but nothing ever changed. She hoped if more people spoke up, maybe the school administration would start to take people seriously. Not wanting to cause any kind of trouble, I wrote off my experience until I could meet with the Environmental Safety Officer and found out, me and my colleagues weren’t the only ones feeling bad. He did too, and there in fact had been complaints on-and-off for years. I brought up the idea of calling OSHA and he encouraged not to because he thought the school would get in trouble and we could lose our jobs. While it didn’t make much sense, I didn’t. At least, not at first. I comforted myself with thoughts such as, the work place is a safe place, all practical measures are considered, generations of workers fought for safe conditions. Sexual harassment and policy pamphlets buttress welcome week trainings, and things like life rafts, safety belts, and air masks are far from mind in an office environment. Even still, the request of the Environmental Safety Officer to not call OSHA for the risk of some possible type of fine didn’t sit right with me. The more I started to talk to my coworkers, the more I started to find out, we all were experiencing similar symptoms. Since I had only started working there recently, when I heard people who had been there for years all share the same experience, I became more nervous. They had complained for years of coffin flies in the basement, weird smells, bad headaches, fatigue, respiratory irritations, and everything got worse during the remodelling project. And I had started working there at the end of the remodelling project. Ok, some dust had accumulated in the office. I didn’t think much of that, but I still wondered if any of my physical symptoms could have any relation to those of my colleagues and the terrible smell we experienced. I recalled my Aunt’s research on mold and environmental contaminants from a conversation we had a decade ago, at a family reunion. She served as a senior toxicologist for the Washington State Department of Health; I trusted in her research work and told her about what was going on. I had also sought support from an acupuncturist to deal with the stress. Both my Aunt and acupuncturist advised me to wear a mask. Not wanting to make a scene by wearing a mask turned out to not be such a wise choice. I had convinced myself since I didn’t know what was really going on and for the cause of not making a big deal, I was probably just fighting off something going around the office. My family suggested I visit a doctor anyway because swollen lymph nodes persisting for more than a few weeks could indicate something serious. I had insisted my body was fighting off whatever was going around at work or physical stress of travel. Reluctantly, I went to the GP I had chosen at the start of the job. He told me to get more rest, take some vitamins, and everything would be fine. At the start of the workdays I would feel fine, but after a few hours, the symptoms would come back. I took walks during breaks to get fresh air, since the Environmental Safety Officer had suggested to just get more fresh air if I started to feel anything strange. On my walks, I began to recall stories from people I’ve known later found their mysterious illnesses were related to mold and building material contamination. I learned from my neighbor the school she worked at also had issues, and schools were known for having risky building material practices in the past. I learned I had mistakenly believed those hazards were remove… This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit lelapin.substack.com/subscribe