I learned a lot during the year and a half my family lived in Colorado more than 25 years ago. Watching a sunset that seemed to color the entire sky, I learned what John Denver meant when he sang, “I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky”—although I’ve since learned that he was actually singing about a meteor shower.

While baking a birthday cake for one of the kids, I learned there’s a reason for “High Altitude Directions” on boxes of cake mix, and I learned what happens when you ignore them, which—growing up in the Midwest—I had always done before. And I learned—when we were driving farther up into the mountains to join some out-of-state friends who were there for a ski weekend—that a sound like a gunshot, or a tire blowing out, can be caused by a bag of potato chips exploding in the back of the van.

Just recently, I learned something else during a trip to Colorado, something most of us usually take for granted—like breathing. Literally.

Although I never had a problem during the time we lived in Colorado—about an hour north of the mile-high city of Denver—I developed a bad case of altitude sickness a few weeks ago during a weekend in Cripple Creek, a town almost twice the elevation of Denver. My symptoms included headaches, nausea, fatigue, difficulty sleeping, and shortness of breath. That last one was the scariest. When you don’t get enough oxygen by taking in a normal breath—the kind we usually don’t even think about—it’s frightening to have to actively and deliberately pull air into your lungs.

Fortunately, I knew what caused my problem, and that it was temporary. My symptoms lessened when we got down to a lower elevation, and went away completely by the time we got back home to Georgia, where the elevation is just a few hundred feet above sea level.

As often happens whenever I’m faced with a scary or painful situation, this opened my eyes to things I take for granted in my everyday life. And also to problems many other people face—people who have a much worse or more permanent condition than whatever I’ve had to deal with. People with diseases like asthma, COPD, or lung cancer—anything that makes breathing difficult or painful.

This experience reminded me to say some extra prayers of thanksgiving for the health and abilities I often take for granted, and to pray for the health and comfort of those who can’t say the same.

I always try to do that anyway, but sometimes I forget. So I’m grateful whenever I get a little reminder, no matter how it actually happens. When it does, it’s like a breath of fresh air.

June 3, 2025
©Betty Liedtke, 2025

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