Breathe

I haven't taken a breath for four days now.

Not a good, deep breath, anyway. No matter how much I strain, the air won't go in. It stops half-way through, as though reaching some impassable gate, and won't budge any further. I yawn, I stretch, I tip my head way back to expand my chest, but to no avail. My lungs have developed an anti-oxygen defensive system, and the system is working quite well.

It isn't the allergies, though. The doctor (of course I went to the doctor! Do I have "moron" written on my forehead??) gave me an inhaler, but it didn't work. And he checked my heart with an EKG, but it was OK. And a few other little things. Everything looked good.

Except I can't breathe.

So he scheduled me for a full set of tests next week, the whole cardiology checkout routine. Treadmill, etc. (Funny how they couldn't see their way to get me an appointment the next day. Wouldn't you think that the inability to breathe would put a RUSH order on things?) Gonna take a whole day off and spend it at the lab having my systems put through the wringer.

The funniest thing was, after we'd gone through all the initial testing and he couldn't see anything obvious, he turns to me and asks, rather innocently, "Have you been experiencing any stress lately?"

I didn't know what to say. What a bizarre question, in this day and age! I was afraid if I opened my mouth, I'd just start laughing uncontrollably and they'd have to cart me away in a straitjacket.

Nothing but stress. How can anyone get anywhere in this world without some level of stress?

And I've never handled stress well. Do any of you remember the poor walls of the house back in Virginia? The windshield of the old volkswagen? Storming out of the house in a rage? The migraines I used to get right before every Calculus exam?

Stress is not my friend.

The job is stressful, as is every job on the planet - at least the ones for which I'm qualified - but that's just the way things are. And that's what bicycles are for; and walks around the neighborhood; and sympathetic shoulders to lean on; and long drives in the country; and tennis matches; and basketball games. And guitars. Guitars make wonderful stress relievers.

But it doesn't feel like a stress thing. And it doesn't feel like an allergy thing. I mean, there's no itching, no sneezing, no stuffy nose. Just the inability to get a full breath of air. And the constant need to yawn.

Odd, how I didn't notice it until Adam went away on his East coast trip. Maybe I'm allergic to Adam not being here. I'm very protective of my son, perhaps more so right now than for the other children because he is going into High School (or Freshman Campus) and growing up so fast; and he's so wonderful and yet so fragile at the same time, and I'm so afraid for him, what the world can do to him. And I want him to be surrounded by good friends who will be good influences. And I want him to have fun and be successful and always be happy.

And I want him to come home safe and sound.

With lots of pictures.

Breathing.