Monday, August 2, 2010
the list gets shorter...
Still, I can't shake a comment a doctor made during my first visit ten days ago. "Stick with music... I wouldn't go out for sports."
You see, dear readers, I have realized that the options for my hobbies and careers are narrowing. As young Anne Shirley once put it, "My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes."
I can never go out for sports. (Exercise is an asthma trigger.)
I will never be a professional house painter. (Paint fumes caused problems Wednesday morning.)
I will never be able to climb Mount Everest. (While my Prednisone has me wired enough that I want to, I have to realize that the altitude might not be beneficial for my breathing.)
I will never be the jazz pianist in the cocktail bar. (Too much smoke...)
I can never be the manager of a grain co-op. (Burnt, moldy corn from a grain fire at the elevator in my hometown was probably what sent me over the edge.)
I can never pursue a career in veterinary medicine. (I can handle animals in limited quantity for a short period of time... but maybe I spent too much time at the county fair?)
I can never be a firefighter. (This one doesn't quite need any explanation...)
Well... as sad as the narrowing career options are, I have to admit, I'm glad to be on the road to recovery. I'm also glad to know what my triggers are... now I can behave myself and avoid them.
Even if it means I'll never be able to be a professional carpet cleaner. :)
With love from an absolute doll,