Breathe in, breathe out.

In the last 35+ days, I have been to the Emergency Department twice for uncontrollable coughing. I’m talking out-of-control, violent coughing, causing me to actually throw up from the sheer violence and form petechia underneath my eyes.

Breathe in, breathe out.

The second Emergency Department visit was because my cough came back (or never left), and every time I coughed, I felt a sharp pain in my upper left rib, like some invisible monster was pressing their knuckles into my rib.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

It has been almost 3 years since I last dealt with a respiratory illness that knocked me on my ass. My dog, Boomer, had gotten out Thanksgiving night, and I had gone to the ER earlier that evening because I was sick as, well, a dog. I couldn’t breathe out of either nostril and I had lost my voice. She got out that night and I had to go running in my neighborhood, croaking out her name as I’m running through the neighborhood.

That particular illness lingered for a month, which is to be expected.

This time around, something’s different. Maybe it’s me, and I’m different? I’ve had three years of Ibrance, a CDK inhibitor with known side effect of interstitial lung disease, since that prior illness.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Last Friday, I spoke with my oncologist’s PA about my blood work results and my lingering cough. While I appreciate her attention to detail and compassion for my situation, I felt pretty shaken after the conversation her and I had. She mentioned that she would have no hesitancy whatsoever to sign paperwork for me to go on a medical leave.

Am I at the point in my life where a respiratory illness means I can’t work?

That realization caused a sadness that I had never experienced before. Being able to still work full-time with stage four cancer has allowed me to push certain doomerism thoughts out of my mind. My very serious illness cannot be that serious if I can still work full-time, right? Now you’re telling me that if I get a respiratory illness like this again that I’m not equipped to power through it?

This feels like a Before and After moment in my life, and it makes me sad. It’s been a month and a week since I first got sick, and I can still feel an ache in my lungs. Sometimes it feels like an invisible giant is squeezing my lungs ever so gently.

“We all die someday.” Yeah, but your “someday” isn’t staring you right in the fucking face.

I felt conflicted writing this because I know putting this out there makes it real. My very serious illness is very serious, and not even my dark sense or humor can save me from what’s to come.