6:05 am. The electricity has just turned off and back on again. My laptop connected to the internet before my phone, funnily enough. I sit on the sofa, bleary-eyed and sleepy, as the anxiety tenses behind me, waiting to overwhelm. I'm uncertain if I will let it take over or try to fight it this time.
I woke up a few minutes earlier to a fresh dot of a mosquito bite, small and not too itchy at first. After straining to hear its whine, through the tinnitus I got after a Boyz II Men concert 15+ years ago, I give up and head for the bathroom where 2 giant mosquitoes greet me. I smash one on the wall with my palm, then shut the other one in as I hurry back to the bedroom for the mosquito bat. In a moment, the second one has been zapped and a pleasant burn smell fills the air. I study my left forearm again. The mosquito prick has expanded to a convex reddish blotch but thankfully the level of itchiness hasn't matched its expansion.
I head back to the bedroom and gather up my quilt, eye mask, and stuffed dog. After dropping them on the couch, I realize I forgot my pillow. And your fuzzy blanket, don't forget your fuzzy blanket, my mind insists. I sigh. I know I have to get the blanket or I won't be able to sleep. It's one of the ways I've found to self-soothe to manage the life I've been left in.
I keep replaying a text message a colleague sent me the day before. His young son, just barely a toddler, is developing asthma. It's normal for this age, he tells me. My heart aches that such a small child has to endure this horrible disease. And then I think about how I woke up, after the mosquito's bite, to a rattling in my chest each time I breathed in deep. Now it's a wheeze. I will sleep the last couple of hours before my alarm goes off, sitting upright on the sofa. At least I don't feel panicky today, like I cannot get enough air into my lungs, and I don't have to do steaming to open them up. I've put off going to the doctor for two or three years. I know what they will tell me. And I cannot add yet another disease to my growing list of things I struggle with.
9 months left.
