Half-Speed
I feel unusually heavy this morning, I slept in a little late while having two more strange vivid dreams last night. But it’s Sunday morning and it’s time to call my father-in-law and talk about whatever’s on his mind. It’s never much about what we talk about, either about his grandkids or great grandkids. Or how the Bulldogs did in Saturday’s game. Afterwards I was all talked out, then my son showed up to give me his take on Saturday’s games. Leaving me a bit out of breath, despite my decades of practice at running my mouth. But to be honest, the days of carrying on long aimless conversations are gone. It’s like when I am at rest, I feel pretty good. My heart’s not pounding, and my respiration is good. But the minute I get up to do a simple chore like sweep the floor or cook dinner. Not long after beginning I have to quit and catch my breath. With my brain firmly stuck in pre-CHF mode, I think I can do most anything. Then while doing something as simple as taking a shower, I n...