Mornings

I have a 90 second window to go between buses when I want to not lie abed, thinking about work until the sun comes. Oft-times, this involves running, and an incipient asthma attack. I can control it, much as I do for everything else, with concentration and breathing exercises.

But that hit of caffeine at the end of the bus ride does a lot more. It may be time to get another inhaler, but that’s a step back of sorts. I hate the thought of being dependent on a chemical for anything, especially something as essential as respiration.

I lie to myself with the hypocrisy that I “just care for the taste” of the Chai. Because I’ve had the decaf version, and it tastes not of goodness.

Give me some stem cell research, W. I need all sorts of replacement parts for this body, if it is going to last throughout my planned lifespan. Because the prospect of another 300 odd years of this pain is not pleasant, in addition to that which I’m already resigned.