...and again...

And again, I find myself working on my paper in a squatting position. Upside? I breathe better this way. Downside? It's somewhat uncomfortable in other ways. At least I am writing in my bedroom at home, with my door shut, where no one else can see me.

Today hasn't been all that bad, all things considered. I was able to breathe pretty well for my small ensemble coaching at 11:30-12:30, even though I was standing almost the whole time. I did have some issues in Wind Ensemble, but changing positions a bit seemed to help some of the time...my new way to get at least one or two normal deep breaths without seeming strange is to pretend to stretch downwards. Well, okay, I actually am stretching, but that is not the main purpose for me! I can do this from my chair as well, it's not quite as good as when I stand up and then bend forward, but it helps a bit. I can't do the sitting squat position that I figured out in choir yesterday because my conductor is a bit more stringent on posture (and I can't blame him), but sometimes leaning forward a bit helps, or even just moving from side to side or something. None of these help immensely, but getting one satisfactory breath every so often is enough to be 'okay'.

The shocker today was that I COULD NOT get the water bottle-your basic Aquafina water bottle-that I bought because I couldn't find my metal water bottle open no matter how hard I tried with both of my hands. I had to ask someone to help. It brought back some bad memories of how my mom couldn't open pop cans, or the bottles of her Ensure, or anything like that. And by bad memories, I mean BAD memories. It was almost harder watching my mom become dependant than it was when she actually died. Yet, there I am this afternoon, having to get someone to open my water bottle. Did I mention that I am a very independent sort of person? I was the 2 year old who, when offered two choices of outfits would pick a third one-a perfectly acceptable one, mind you-and insist upon it! I refused to let my friend help me move a little table once because I had to prove I was independent and could move it on my own, which in the end resulted in my first incident of self-harm (I was barely 7 years old, if that) as I once wrote about.

I did have a couple of unexpected headaches today, one that started near the end of my small ensemble coaching, but was cured with tylenol and then one that started after I finished teaching tonight and was on my way to my piano lesson. It made me a little less successful than usual, but these things happen from time to time.

I'm still just plain frustrated with myself, and with the hurry-up-and-wait of the medical system. Yes, I am VERY VERY VERY VERY glad that I have universal healthcare. Did I mention that I appreciate it a TON? And I appreciate the internal medicine specialist that I was referred to. But, what I am frustrated at is this general picture that has developed:
-heart guys (the internal medicine specialist) thinks it's my lungs
-respiratory therapists thinks it's my heart.

See the issue? I don't care what it comes down to, so long as I can breathe! There is little that is more frustrating and frightening than having difficulty breathing.