Omer, day 2

Omer, day 2

Breathing is not my strong suit these days. You'd think that after almost 57 years of doing it - most of those years and months and weeks and days, almost every one of those hours and minutes, doing it absolutely unconsciously, just a simple in and out, again and again and again - you'd think I'd be pretty good at it.

You'd think wrong. I'm actually pretty bad at it. There are moments when I'm not quite sure that there will be a next breath, that I will never stop coughing long enough to breathe in again. For the past few months, I've a tendency to cough so hard that I pass out. That's happened while sitting, while standing, a couple of times while driving. Thank God the worst thing that's happened as a result is a broken toe and a couple of metatarsals. Needless to say, Nate has gotten plenty of practice driving, and I've had to learn how to be a passenger.

I'm on a boatload of meds. Mostly, they seem to have had little to no impact on the asthma. They've had a huge impact on my ability to sleep more than 3 or 4 hours, and if you're ever looking for a sure for weight gain method, I have your answer.

This is, of course, the tip of my healthcare nightmare iceberg. Needless to say, I've been down and distracted of late. I've been feeling overwhelmed and just this side of hopeless.

And then, miracle of miracles - a shift. Nothing has changed, not really, but yesterday - a tiny bit of ease. Feeling a tiny bit of hope that, if I won't ever be "cured;" then perhaps I can manage, maybe even be a little ok.

So of course, last night, an asthma attack. A bad one after not having had one in a week or more. At least I didn't pass out. Yay for small favors.

Is that my new bar - at least I didn't pass out? Ugh. I am discouraged and exhausted and yeah, even a little bit anxious. Dammit - I just started driving again, since I haven't passed out in more than a month! Do I have to take away my own driving privileges again?

And there it is. Yes, I'm worried about my health. Who wouldn't be?! Various parts of my body are freaking around their edges, breaking or grumbling under the strain of time. Lucky me.

But. Always a "but."

My biggest concern - at the age of almost 57, all I can do is... wait. Keep doing what my docs suggest. Take my meds, even when I start to maybe feel better. Listen. Ask for help. I get to be a passenger, get to be taken care of, get to not know. 

Still.

I hate that. All the control I insist I have, that I cling to, until I have those little half moon marks in my palms from where my fingers have dig into the skin - it's the worst kind of illusion, because the only person I can fool (and not very well at that) is me.

Time to be a passenger. Time to be carried. I suppose there are worse things than that, yeah? I suppose this old control freak can find a bit of grace, even in that.

#countingtheomer