I'm busy counting breaths and heartbeats instead of reading and writing mail.
This is the first thing you see when you open the door. It reminds me of my immortality so I try not to whine. I want to though because it's just not fair.
This is where I spent most of my day. It's meant for sleeping. Not lying propped up struggling for breath, waiting for my pulse to slow down, not scratching hives. I have to turn the volume up to drown out wheezes. My favorite Olympians did not win gold today because I couldn't cheer them on. I was too tired to care much. I'm still proud of them though.
A single letter from last night didn't make it to the post office. JC asked if I had take-out but I didn't feel like moving, so I said no. He brought bunches of mail several times last week, so he thinks he should check more frequently. I think he gets a kick out of seeing me get a kick out of how good y'all are about writing. I promise to scan some of the stacks you've sent when I feel better. I get so caught up with trying to write back, to send "just a note to let you know I haven't forgotten I owe you a letter" notes that I fall behind in posting incoming. All this feels like old times. If Patty, Misty, Elle and the rest of the good 'uns who dropped out were to return, why it would be like a reunion.
But anyway . . . Please, please, please, do not send me scented mail. I won't open it from now on. No perfume samples, no perfumed inks, no scented stationery, no scented hand lotion . . . Chemical sensitivity is a burden I try to bear with grace and dignity. My airway closes, I cannot breathe, I itch, my skin burns, I have giant hives, my nose runs, my ears ache, my vision blurs, my tastebuds stop working, my body swells . . . Yes, inhalers, nasal sprays, and oral antihistamines help most of the time, but I end up in the ER too. I need breathing treatments and adrenaline that makes my heart race. Each episode takes an emotional and a physical toll.
I'm stuck watching "Kung Fu Hustle," working hard not to laugh because breathing is a labor, and I'm feeling sorry for myself. And my vision is too blurred to read the subtitles! Dang. I forgot to rinse my mouth. Dang it! Stop sending me smelly ^&$#! I don't send you stinky stuff! Do unto me as I do unto y'all.