Holding My Breath

There are moments where we find ourselves holding our breaths. Be it for the outcome of a test, swimming under water or whether or not we will be able to squeeze into a size too small pair of jeans.

Tuesday I found myself holding my breath at various points during the day. Tuesday my recruit underwent his test in the gas chamber.

I watched a video of what the gas chamber entails. The recruits go into a room wearing gas masks. Once in the chamber, the recruits circle around a sort of pit. They are instructed to remove their masks and place them on their belts. The drill instructors set off the tear gas and the recruits have a set number of seconds to remove their masks from their belts and place the gas mask on their heads correctly. Then, after the DI's give the word, the recruits come bursting out of the chamber with their arms raised; some coughing, some with eyes tearing, some gagging and snotting all over the place. The video showed all the recruits immediately ripping off their gas masks and they have a look on their faces of 'I never want to do that again!'

I really don't think I should have watched the video prior to the day Patrick faced the gas chamber. I imagined all sorts of 'possibilities': Patrick's fingers all turning into thumbs; Patrick freaking out when the gas begins to seep into the chamber, running out before given permission to do so - with his hands in his pockets; snot running not just out of his nose, but his mouth, ears, and every other orifice possible!

Since my worry was at skyscraper heights, I must have cleaned our bathrooms five times. At the end of the day, there was no telephone call, no one informing us that Patrick had issues or problems with the gas chamber.  As they tell recruit parents, 'No news is good news'. 

Some would say 'All that worry is for nothing' or 'Nothing is achieved from worry but gray hair'. My take on worry is that my hair will gray no matter how much worry is involved and there is never a 'too much' when it comes to cleaning the bathroom.

To me, nothing is a relative term.

As I have mentioned previously, I am currently recovering from surgery on my left bicep and left rotator cuff. The biggest issue was the bicep tendon; it was pretty much knackered. The surgeon had to disconnect the tendon, fix the 'knackerdness' and then reattach the tendon with titanium screws.

I am at a point in recovery that my physical therapy has increased from passive to resistance and weight bearing exercises. Also, now when I go to therapy, the therapist manipulates my arms into pretzel positions (that's what it feels like to me), to stretch the tendon/shoulder and to encourage further range of motion.

I have a tendency to hold my breath prior to manipulations. Countless of times during these manipulations the therapist will remind me to 'breath Teresita, breath'. It isn't as if holding my breath is conscious. I believe my mind is protecting my body from pain.

Perhaps, my mind knows if I pass out from holding my breath, my body won't feel the pain when the therapist places my left arm behind my back while continuously pressing up and down on my shoulder. Or, perhaps my mind knows that I can't get up and go clean a bathroom, so there's nothing else I can do but hold my breath.

Maybe breathing like nothing, is a relative term.