My face turning a scary shade of blue, hands stiffening, heart slowly...slowly shutting down. Panic surrounds me, but no words escape my throat. There is nothing I can do now. The first time can be your last, so I've heard, and it's real this time. I want to reach for my throat, even try self-Heimlich, but my hands won't unclench themselves out of the white-knuckled fists they're stuck in. I can start to feel numbness through my feet, creeping up my legs, cramping in my stomach. A whoosh of air escaping my lungs, while my eyes rolled back into my head. Dying. I'm dead. The panic turns to screams and cries, of "what did she take" and "somebody do something."