• Published 23rd Mar 2020
  • 436 Views, 14 Comments

Derpy Can't Breathe Good - darf



Derpy is having trouble breathing, so she goes to the doctor to get some help. Afterwards, she has a hard time adjusting to the changes in her life. Based on a true story.

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Chapter 8ight

The first thing she did really wrong was losing her breather a second time. This time it wasn't on top of the toilet, or in the kitchen drawers, or any of the places she had looked the first time either. It wasn't on her bed or under her bed or tangled in amongst the blankets or fallen between the mattress and the wall or lodged under one of the pillows. It wasn't on her night-stand or dresser or anywhere in the kitchen. By the time she got back around to the bedroom, Derpy felt like she was gasping so loudly the neighbours would here, which felt good, and bad at the same time, because maybe they would think she was pretending or faking it because of how loud she was, or, though, maybe, they would think she was in serious trouble and call the hospital and get her another breather for emergencies. She wasn't sure about which one would happen, and her brain wasn't giving her time to think. It was saying NOW NOW NOW over and over again, and pointing an arrow wildly in every direction with a big flashing label in blue that said 'BREATHER' overhead. But it never settled anywhere. It kept spinning like a compass on top of a magnet.

Breather, Derpy said to herself. She put a hoof on her chest and felt the slow rattle of whatever was tightening her lungs as she drew in a breath, barely manage to rise at all with the tiny sliver of air she was able to get. When she exhaled, her lungs wheezed, and she coughed, hacking for several seconds and spitting a gob of phlegm into the trashcan by her night-stand. She missed slightly, and the yellow-white liquid trickled over the rim of the can, dripping slowly towards the floor.

Her phone. Call somepony. Call them even if she couldn't breathe to get the words out. The emergency number and somepony would come.

Hoof. Her hooves had to hold the phone. Hooves have to dial the number. Number. Put in the number. Breathe even if you can't. Eyes open. Keep moving forward.

"Equestria Emergency Services, what is your emergency?" chimed a voice on the other end of the phone, sounding like a proper-looking pony who maybe had her mane done up.

Derpy thought she spotted something blue underneath the dresser. She fell to the ground with a thump and reached out for it, scraping her hoof over the years-old caked up dust and bits of fuzz that were in the way. Finally unlodging the item in question, only to find it to be the plastic coil she unwound before the cap on her milk jug. A piece of a milk-jug that had wandered into her bedroom.

"Hello? Equestria Emergency Services, what is your emergency?" called the voice again. "If you are unable to speak, please confirm that you would like an emergency unit sent to your address by staying on the line."

On the ground, Derpy closed her eyes, and clenched her hooves around the small piece of plastic, holding it to her lips and mouthing the word 'breathe' over and over again, until finally her lips stopped moving.

Author's Note:

I stopped writing around this chapter because the subject matter/plot got really difficult, relying on a lot of revisiting of personal memories I'd rather leave in the past. However, that was the reason I started this story in the first place, so if people end up enjoying it, I'll try hard to come back sooner rather than later and finish this story.

No, it's not going to be a 'then Derpy died' or anything like that. But I want to get to the inspiration of the story, which was confrontation with folks supposedly interested in 'helping'. So let us know in the comments if you'd like to see this continued, or if you just thought it was a lot of depressing tripe. <3

Comments ( 9 )

Should she be on her own?:unsuresweetie:

Keep going! It's a very interesting story. Those doctor ponies really should have set her up with counseling or taken the time to explain things, not just said "here's medicine for what we think you have, k thanks bye".

Please keep going.

I have/had asthma, mostly allergy related and now I avoid anything that might trigger it. But it's awful and I feel this.

I hope she gets better.

'Enjoying' probably isn't accurate, but please do continue when/if you're able.

Great story so far. Please continue.

While it can be a bit difficult to follow at times, my fault not yours, I can certainly relate to a number of the unpleasant feelings Derpy is going through...

I too would like to see this continue.

The part with the phone was extremely jarring for a pony story. Otherwise, this is the most uncomfortable story about medication that I've read since... I think it was one of Regidar's stories, one with Pinkie Pie.

This is unpleasant...in a good way?

Either way poor Derpy needs a hug.

Brilliant. In every chapter, something sparked; sometimes it was grand, sometimes intimate, always dazzling. If I had to pick a favorite excerpt (among many), it would be this:

Derpy just stuck to the ones she knew, because every time she figured out a new one she would use it all day until everypony around her would groan each time she said it, and even then she could tell they weren't very happy she was learning a new word anyway, so it was better to stick to the old ones. Yep.

I would love to read more, but not at your expense. But, going by what you said here:

But I want to get to the inspiration of the story, which was confrontation with folks supposedly interested in 'helping'.

I believe in this topic, if that makes any sense, and the necessity of its exploration. And I know you're the best around to explore it. This is an important story.

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