I dream of feeling free, to engage myself with all that I see.
I dream of taking steps that lead further than my own front yard.
I dream of laughing without choking, and singing or dancing without coughing.
I dream of waking up each morning and bounding out of bed, and just taking off, somewhere, anywhere.
I still remember how it used to be when I could dance without gasping for air or my heart feeling like it was going to explode… times when my heart raced out of excitement and joy versus out of desperation to support my lungs with the oxygen they need.
It wasn’t too long ago that I had bigger accomplishments each day than simply walking up the stairs or taking a shower.
I no longer sing made-up songs about the cats or the weather or anything else that tickles my fancy, because I can’t spare the oxygen.
I no longer dance when I hear my favorite songs, because that, too, requires my very precious oxygen.
Instead, I shake my hands and shoulders with as much energy as I can afford to give to them.
I cannot laugh easily anymore. It robs me of my breath.
I work hard to strengthen my muscles so that they can take on some of the effort when I’m doing something strenuous like folding laundry or walking up the stairs or taking a shower.
I have to monitor my oxygen levels when I eat, because even a partially full stomach can make it hard for me to breathe.
Why has God taken my ability to dance, sing or laugh?
Today I am having a hard time seeing the glass as half-full. We, as humans, have the gift of such pleasures, and I feel robbed.