Liquid Lungs

I wake up to the sound of Velcro, but I'm not wearing any.

It's my lungs.

Lying with my back propped against the stack of pillows so that I'm in a reclined position, with my breathing at near-sleep levels, it sounds just ... weird. Like a thin tearing of plastic, slightly bubbly plastic, gurgling in my throat.

Inhale. The Velcro rips apart. Exhale. Gurgle. Repeat.

Makes it a bit difficult to sleep. What's worse, though, is that as soon as my body wakes up in the morning, and the hormones or whatever they are start pumping and the muscles start twitching and the blood starts pumping, there is an irresistable urge - compulsion - to cough, and cough hard. There is nothing to cough up, but the coughing continues until my ribs are aching and I'm leaning over the sink in the bathroom (How did I get here??) waiting to lose the breakfast I haven't eaten yet.

After a few minutes, the feeling subsides. Gotta move slower. Walk. Slowly. Breathe. Slowly. Down the stairs. Step. Step. Step. Step. (Wheeze) (Wheeze) (Wheeze) (Wheeze). Repeat.

To the pantry. Grab a teaspon of this, a teaspoon of that. Gimme some hot water for tea. Take some ibuprofen for the aching muscles. Sit at the table and catch my breath.

I feel like such an old man.

It's probably best to stay home today, but that won't happen. So long as nobody talks to me, if they all just leave me alone to type in my cube, I'll be all right. It's the walks to the water fountain and the kitchenette (for more hot tea) that evoke the coughing again.

Funny how "I've got pneumonia" cuts short conversations at work. Except on the phone. For some reason, people hear me say, "I'm ill," and they hear me coughing - loudly - but they won't shut up and get off the phone. For some reason, there is a disconnect between the "It hurts to talk" and the idea that "If I wasn't talking on the phone with you, it wouldn't hurt so much."

Naturally, at home I don't mind so much. Because if people really want to call me up and listen to me hack and cough and get so close to heaving up that it's like being there, well, that's their choice. And sometimes it's fun to see how far I can go to gross them out.

But at work - sheesh! Some people just don't have a clue. Somehow their piddly problems with spreadsheets and budgets and malfunctioning software are more important than my lack of breathing capacity.

Makes me wish I could fake a really good cough, like I'm having a heart attack, and then drop the phone - loudly - on the desk, just to see what they'd do. Probably just hang up and send me email instead. Losers.

Meanwhile I'm dreading the thought of going to sleep at night, knowing that the hacking and coughing is going to start unbidden again in the morning. And the Velcro. And the gurgling.

Sure hope it clears up before the weekend. It's hard to enjoy pizza and a good movie with the family when (1) food doesn't taste like anything and (2) all I want to do, is to go back to bed.