…and breathing out… it’s the most basic sign of life. And I suck at it.
So, I’ve been to the doctor recently. It was just another run-of-the-mill check up. A maintenance thing, really. They tell me that because I’m with myself all day, every day, I might not be able to tell when small changes occur, so I have a doctor to check in with every once and a while to tell me how my lungs are holding up.
This time around he told me that my lung capacity has “significantly diminished,” and that I need to, “scale it down, as far as activities go.” The funny thing is that when someone tells you the end is near, the last thing you’ll want to do is “scale it down.” I want to turn it up! I want to live at full speed while I can instead of maybe living a bit longer at a crawl.
I haven’t told anyone. Somehow it feels strange to bring up out of the blue. “Hey guys, things aren’t looking so hot over here!” My dad even asked me to consider following through on quitting the motel. I told him I’d consider it, but after my talk with Norman when he finally let me in on what’s been going on around me all year, I just don’t see how I could leave. The Bates family needs me. Plus, I refuse to believe my desk job is going to be the thing that gets me in the end.
Despite my not-so-good diagnosis, I’m staying positive. This is going to be a year to remember.