Soul Coughing
I secretly suspect that I have lung cancer. Or maybe I just secretly hope. The thought first occurred to me a few weeks ago while driving, and it actually made me laugh out loud. Not because I thought it was so unlikely, but because it would be so fitting. The past few months have convinced me that someone or something out there thinks I'm meant to die. Or, to put it another way, just not meant to stay alive. So cancer would be a perfect answer; it would solidify what I already suspect. Reality is funny that way.
I can't even remember when it started anymore. It was something like six or seven weeks ago. The doctor’s appointment I missed today would have been my third. I don't know what they think they're going to do, fighting destiny and all. I've been through almost seventy pills already. It seems kind of silly.
Typically, my immune system is infallible. I haven’t had more than a weekend cold in many years. But this isn’t a cold at all. It’s a cough that never ends. It’s a stirring deep inside my lungs-- something in there that shouldn’t be-- so severely rooted that no amount of bronchial spasms can dislodge it. Twice now I’ve broken into fits of coughing so intense they made me vomit.
I’m not depressed or worried about it. It’s more of an inconvenience or irritation than anything else. And, yes, invariably it will turn out that I won’t have cancer, and that it’s just a bad cold, and they’ll give me more pills, and eventually I’ll get over it and go back to waiting for God to strike me down. Or, at least, that’s what I’d be doing if I wasn’t an atheist.
I can't even remember when it started anymore. It was something like six or seven weeks ago. The doctor’s appointment I missed today would have been my third. I don't know what they think they're going to do, fighting destiny and all. I've been through almost seventy pills already. It seems kind of silly.
Typically, my immune system is infallible. I haven’t had more than a weekend cold in many years. But this isn’t a cold at all. It’s a cough that never ends. It’s a stirring deep inside my lungs-- something in there that shouldn’t be-- so severely rooted that no amount of bronchial spasms can dislodge it. Twice now I’ve broken into fits of coughing so intense they made me vomit.
I’m not depressed or worried about it. It’s more of an inconvenience or irritation than anything else. And, yes, invariably it will turn out that I won’t have cancer, and that it’s just a bad cold, and they’ll give me more pills, and eventually I’ll get over it and go back to waiting for God to strike me down. Or, at least, that’s what I’d be doing if I wasn’t an atheist.