Huffing and Puffing and Panting...

Meanwhile my symptoms were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. I was short of breath a lot. I'd lie in bed and find it hard to breathe unless I propped my head up a bit. I'd hear my lungs rattling. I'd wheeze. Yet I tried my best to remain in blissful denial of all these ominous signs. I had been laid off from my job in May of 2009. I had rebounded from that devastatingly depressing time by finding what I felt was my true tafkid (calling, raison d'etre) in performing at nursing homes and assisted living facilities (more about that next time). I refused to give up this fledgling cottage industry I was developing. I'd go to gigs and huff and puff and shlepp my amplifier and mike stand and guitar and have to stop and catch my breath. Somehow I was able to sing. I've always had the ability to hold insanely long notes and that didn't change. My lung capacity seemed okay. I just felt lousy before and after I was onstage.