Some little punk in a rocket…
I was on top of the world
it was right in my pocket
I was living the life
things were just the way they should be
When from out of the sky like a bomb comes some little punk in a rocket
now all of a sudden some strange things are happening to me….
Looks like it wasn’t a virus.
Or it might have been – and that might have been the precipitate. That, or some lousy manky allergen.
Anyway. The asthma I have only ever paid lip service to, decided to roar – or wheeze and cough and nearly kill me.
I have had too many folk – who should know better – telling me that I should be thankful to it.
Because I now also have louping arrythmias and tachycardia and a thickened heart muscle (hypertrophic cardiomyopathy) at least identified (and just waiting for sufficient lung recovery to be tested into a certain diagnosis or a specific degree of hellish-ness).
It could be (and this makes perfect sense to me in terms of diagnosis given every other condition or illness I currently have – and have ever had) Churg Strauss Syndrome (the very nasty vasculitis both respiratory and cardiology are considering it might be).
It could be (and this is what I am hoping for) bog standard heart disease and bog standard asthma.
Anyway. Forgive me for not feeling the glowing warmth of gratefulness just quite yet…
In fact, I don’t feel remotely thankful.
I feel fucking furious.
And I feel afraid.