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Be aware of carbon monoxide symptoms
Saturday, October 15, 2005
ISABEL WOLSELEY TORREY
CONTRIBUTING WRITER
Several days ago, The Post-Standard carried a front-page story, "Winter's coming, tips to cut your utility bill." Although the account contained excellent suggestions on how to save money, not a word was mentioned how to save life.
You see, when doors and windows are weatherstripped and cracks are sealed, it's possible for a "silent killer" to get in. This killer is carbon monoxide (CO) - yes, the colorless, odorless, lethal gas that comes from your car's exhaust.
In 1991, my husband and I had followed the same instructions as printed in this week's story to cold-proof our house. But just to make sure our systems were safe, we asked for inspections by a licensed heating contractor plus a representative from the power company. Even so, my photo (and his) nearly appeared on the obituary page.
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Here's what happened: A headache and pounding heartbeat convinced me it was the onslaught of a cold, so I headed for the couch and a nap.
A ringing phone aroused me. Although dizzy and nauseated, I stumbled to answer it. My next memory is being on the floor and so was the phone - I'd been roused this second time by the doorbell, a signal UPS had delivered a package.
As I lay there, I spotted my husband beneath the kitchen table. I called him repeatedly, with no answer. Well, I guess he's dead, I told myself. This thought, I must confess, elicited no more alarm, immediacy or emotion than had he been roadkill. CO can do that to your mind, you understand.
On the verge of vomiting and diarrhea, the same lack of reasoning didn't tell me to crawl to the bathroom, but to the front door. I wasn't aware of needing air, only of wanting it. A few gasps revived me enough that I called the only stay-at-home neighbor on the block for help.
So why didn't I call 911? Again, no reasoning power. Neither did it occur to me lying on the floor might seem strange to the neighbor.
She, a former nurse (I'd not remembered that, either), recognized our white faces and red lips as possible carbon monoxide poisoning and called for help. My husband and I spent six hours under oxygen masks in the hospital, "The only way to clear the system of CO," we were told.
Thankfully, we suffered no lasting effects and were grateful to be alive.
So how did carbon monoxide find access? A sharp-eyed furnace man finally discovered the exhaust from our hot-water tank was piped horizontally - instead of at an upward slant - across the basement ceiling, then out the fireplace chimney. Apparently wind blowing from a certain angle had created a reverse draft.
This condition also might occur if the fireplace is used when the furnace is running. Our draft system now follows current building codes, more stringent than those existing when our house was built.
What happened to us is more common than thought. At that time, a power company spokesman told me there were about 200 such cases annually in this area.
There's pending legislation making it mandatory for carbon monoxide detectors in every dwelling. Lawrence and I have three: one in the basement near the furnace, one on the main floor and one in the bedroom wing. CO alarms look much like and are about the same cost as smoke alarms.
Meanwhile, if you have "cold symptoms" - headache, racing heartbeat - go outside for a few minutes to see if they diminish.
And, if you do suspect CO is present, call National Grid at (800) 892-2345 for emergency 24-hour service.
Isabel Wolseley Torrey is a Syracuse freelance writer and photojournalist whose columns appear on alternate Saturdays. She's the author of "Don't Holler Until You're Hurt," a collection of her columns. Contact her at features@syracuse.com. |
