For some reason, we instinctively hold our breath when something big approaches. It's second nature; a reaction to fear. I wish I had a dollar for every instructor who has told me to breathe or even for every time I've caught myself tensing up, forgetting to do what is guaranteed to keep my head clear and my actions smooth.
Just gotta breathe.
When I don't, I feel it. Often just a bit too late and I knock myself off my rhythm. I brake too soon, turn in too early, knot myself up and make it hurt worse, or psych myself into breaking down. Such was the case Saturday evening, and I've been paying for it since then. Less and less, thankfully, but I can still look back and see where holding my breath put me off my game.
This was supposed to be a good thing. Chemo ended Saturday evening. But I'd held my breath and turned it into this emotional mountain to climb that has upset me for days all because I didn't just swallow those last four pills instead of fixating on them.
So, lesson learned again. I never was the kid who really got it that the burner was hot the first time I touched it. I've always had to burn my hand a second time just to make sure. I need to just let the chemo go now and not get all worked up over my next meet with Dr. Lee. Yes, we'll talk about what happens next, but I do myself no favors trying to hold my breath until then.