I've been a registered nurse for eleven years. I know what carbon monoxide poisoning looks like. Headache. Fatigue. Nausea. Cognitive slowdown.
I diagnosed it in a patient three years ago. I walked him through the symptoms, told him to get a detector, watched him go home.
I did not see it in myself.
November through February — my son Caleb, seven years old, was waking up with headaches three mornings a week. I blamed it on school, on growth, on winter air. My own headaches I blamed on twelve-hour shifts.
We had a carbon monoxide detector in the hallway. I'd bought it at Home Depot two years ago. Tested it every few months. It beeped. The green light came back on.
In March, our landlord sent an HVAC technician for the annual furnace check.
He was in the basement for eight minutes.
When he came back upstairs, he wasn't carrying his tools.
He was carrying his meter.