It was like a reckoning, a premonition if you may (I was tutoring Zimmie with his Romeo and Juliet the other night and now I've got stuff like premonition, fate, and other malarkey I don't otherwise believe in all wrapped around my head), that I would have two weeks of flues (thankfully incapacitated for only two days of the fourteen) before the third week would sprout out the motherfucker of all fucking, fucking illnesses i.e. the asthma attack.
So despite being one four different kinds of pills from three different clinics, one type of which is a steroid base thing that I'm supposed to swallow all six of with my breakfast (that I can hardly eat anyway) and makes my heart race like wild horses at the same time makes my limbs all shaky and tired.
But I refuse to be swallowed by the jaws of self-pity (although pity now and then is nice when your lungs hurt), and to battle it henceforth (plus to give my lungs a bit of exercise), I've been watching 'Extras' - this fucking marvelous BBC TV show starring Ricky Gervais (of 'The Office' face - Brit version, natch).
Watching him, and mostly, watching his utterly idiotic best friend Maggie (the true star of the show, in my opinion), the latter who possesses a natural charm of getting what she almost wants at the beginning of the show and then screwing it up royally by putting her foot in her clueless mouth. Each time she manages to make me cringe into a ball of crumped limbs yet giggle non-stop until my lungs get pissed at me and starts hacking out the most annoying kinds of coughs (the kind when you start hacking and your brain literally hurts).
Plus, the guest stars (Robert DeNiro, Samuel L. Jackson, Kate Winslet, Orlando Bloom, Ben Stiller, hell, even Harry Potter)? Rock.
Big, massive thanks to the Hazel for introducing me to this big cheer-upper.
Another good sideline in ignoring the fact that your lungs are wheezing for air (and henceforth successfully blocking the issue that maybe, just maybe, quitting smoking might stop all this asthma crap) is the book Emma has insisted on my reading: The Moor's Last Sigh by Salman Rushdie. An excellent, plus profoundly, plus hilariously good read.
Oh, I do get by with a little help from my friends.