Don’t say I can’t be obedient.
Last week I went for a scan (no, I am not pregnant, and don’t worry: I’ll live till I die). The doctor asked me to breathe in deeply and HOLD my breath. I did. I held it. Patiently. Remembering a time BC (Before I wore Contact lenses) when I set myself the most idiotic challanges diving and staying down for as long as possible.
I lost my interest in diving once I went myopic. Strange, but goggles and I don’t see eye to eye. Fast forward to the now: I don’t smoke, I am fit – so who needs to breathe. And anyway – if at all possible do not disobey a doctor’s command. They might become ill disposed towards you. So there I was, slowly drowning, willing myself not to breathe – when I heard him say: “Breathe in again”. What do you mean: AGAIN? I haven’t breathed out yet from the last time.
I burst out laughing. He smiled. At least we now know that my lungs still have capacity belying wear and tear. After that I tried to pay a bit more attention to his “Breathe OUT”.
Come to think of it, the breathing out brings a strangely comforting sensation with it. Maybe that’s where the expression “a sigh of relief” comes from. On the other hand, and just to prove my point: Someone will “take a deep breath”, or worse “a sharp breath”. And worst of all: A last breath. Inhale. And with your last exhale, this is me when still a little girl, your soul flies out of your mouth (to a place unknown – no forwarding address) in disgust and horror how its vessel, your body, could just close up shop. Make you homeless.
Yes, I know it’s all very comforting. But it’s only 0559 GMT. And dark.
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