Sick, literally

My lungs have been the most fragile part of my body now. Since January, my recurring cough and cold is making my life miserable, which was worsened by something wedged inside my chest, preventing me to breathe properly, especially after eating. My throat has never felt so much soreness also. It never felt so dry like it does now. Sometimes, I need to pause what I’m doing just to focus on my breathing so I could get enough air. It was a struggle, you know, to fight whatever’s blocking the air to enter your body just so you could live another second.

While I’m on the process of trying to live normally despite this abnormality in my body, a sudden realization occurred to me that I’m not immune to death, something I never feared but doesn’t want to encounter very soon, not now that I have so many things I want to happen with my life.

I was having my breakfast in an open restaurant in this upscale hotel, facing the blueness of the sky amidst the ocean that sparkles through the rays of the awakened sun, indulging the air from the wideness of the sea that passes through the infinity swimming pool until it reached me. A colleague decided to join me in the table although I sensed that she was just feeling bad that I’m alone. When I get back from getting another cheese omelet, which I’ve loved since the first day we had our breakfast there, I saw her standing near the pool and talking to someone while her meal was left unfinished as if she was being told something urgent over the phone.

When she got back, I was already almost done with my meal.

“It’s awful,” she said. “My cousin was rushed to the hospital this morning and was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer! I couldn’t believe it. He was really healthy. All we know is that he’s been coughing non-stop since January.”

It was awful, indeed. Suddenly, the sky seemed duller. There was something about the pool that seemed so empty, probably because it’s too early in the morning and no one was interested to swim yet. I need to focus on my breathing. I just couldn’t.

‘What if I have a lung cancer?’

I asked myself if this was a legit question or not. I decided to leave the table even if she has just returned to her meal. Again, I need to focus on my breathing. I spent days in putting so much effort in this. Somehow, I just became too distracted by trying to live normally. I went to gym the past few days; decided to enjoy this out of town coverage; tried to ignore the pain; tried to live. But what was wrong in what I did? I want to live. I want to breathe.

This was the second time that I wrote something about my health although it has always been the subject of my complaints in most of my diary entries this year. What if I don’t have much time to live? The paranoia is addictive but what I find interesting in this struggle is whatever it is, I think I might just be ready to face it. And you know what’s more brutal? I think I can source an interesting story plot from it for my next novel. I don’t know. I just think no matter what comes my way I just need to move forward to get to wherever I want to be because no one will bring me there. So despite the odd feeling what my colleague said about her cousin has caused me, I still, surprisingly, enjoyed the day.

P.S: I couldn’t breathe properly while I’m writing this.

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