Thanks for being so sweet, everyone: I'm better now.

I'm pretty convinced that I've had some kind of teensy lung inflammation, because for a lot of the day today I had that sort of sensation I associate with Whittier in the 70s, or the San Fernando Valley in the 80s: that kind of "oh-shit-I-can't-breathe-deep" sort of feeling. But the feeling is 95% gone.

Although I'm not so sure the problem was actually in my lungs. K's theory of pleurisy sounds close, but I was just never in too much pain. I was simply scared, because heart disease is the bogeyman under my bed: I've been hearing about Mr. Heart Disease all my life.

In the past few years my mother has taken to breaking her harangues about heart disease in order to mention that there's cancer on my father's side of the family, and I musn't forget to be terrified of Heart Disease's evil twin, Mr. Cancer. It's a wonder I've ever held down a job at all, what with this sitting around being petrified of heart disease and cancer.

It occurs to me that I've been so busy being afraid of heart disease and cancer, I haven't quite noticed that my actual weaknesses are my tender teeth, sensitive skin, and allergies—or that the realistic danger lies not in carrying nitroglycerin around with me, but having to wheel an oxygen tank everywhere I go in my old age.

Not that there aren't worse things, mind you. But sometimes our preconceived notions hold us back. I may have been fighting the wrong battles.

I like to think I'll somehow make that oxygen tank stylish, though: maybe I can get flames painted on mine, so it resembles the hot rods of old.

Posted by: Attila at 11:05 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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