One-hundred-fifty feet – my struggle has now become a test of mental clarity as well as physical strength. My thinking is unclear. My arms are beginning to fatigue. Perspiration breaks out on my head and neck. Short of breath, I am starting to panic. My twisting back and forth becomes violent.

One-hundred-eighty feet – my enraged twisting yields a positive result as at last the sleeves gain some slack. With the extra space comes the ability to take a full breath and the sense that I’ll be okay. I just need to force my shoulder out of place for a moment. Pressing my right shoulder fiercely against the restraint, I feel a pop that goes along with a sharp, but temporary pain, “Aaarrrgh!!” For a moment my shoulder is slightly separated; however, I now have the necessary room to get one arm out of its sleeve. A heavy sigh of relief – just a few more seconds and I’ll be out. Two-hundred feet in the air – my arms are almost free; another distinct snap – not my shoulders this time. A burning ember brushes my cheek on its way down. I gaze up. Time stands still for a moment.

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