sasha_feather | Respiration

I had an asthma dream: I was visiting nicely with a couple of fandom friends on some sort of joint trip somewhere. But then I decided to go for a walk. I walked too far, and had to hurry back to catch a train. I had to walk up hill, in the heat, carrying a very heavy back pack full of text books. I stopped for cold water and tried to use Euro bills in a vending machine. Everything was very much a physical struggle.

With chronic illness there is a lot of "Why?" that goes unanswered. Going to doctors, getting tests, trying treatments, is in some ways an attempt to answer that question, "Why am I ill? Did I eat something I'm allergic to? Is it air pollution? Is it that cigarette smoke from the other night? Is it pollen?" Occasionally some answers may present themselves, but some answers never will: "Why me?" for example. Or, why does illness and suffering exist at all?

One of my favorite Jesse the K quotes is "pain has no meaning". It does not represent past life guilt, it is not meant to build character, and searching for one's pain triggers only benefits a person up to a point. After that, there are diminishing returns: you obsess over your pain and get no new information.

So, having chronic illness involves a lot of acceptance work. And it is work, of an emotional sort. I find that I must work on accepting, over and over, that I am ill and that I must rest.

Some motherly types on Facebook encouraged me to go to urgent care after I posted seeking asthma advice. I went this morning, got nebulized, and got an increase in my prednisone prescription.