I have been missing my Rudy and fighting off a bad asthma flare-up.   On Monday at work, I kept feeling out of breath, after doing simple, easy tasks.  I found my eyes tearing up.  I didn't know if it was some type of anxiety attack or if it was a problem with my lungs.   I made an appointment to see the Doctor for the next morning and asked Frank to bring me into Boston to see them.  I was afraid to go alone, I was afraid I'd run out of breath.                  
      When I went to sleep Monday night, I secretly feared that I would die in my sleep.  It was not likely, but when I am physically ill, some of my Schizoaffective Disorder symptoms resurface.  I felt somewhat depressed and scared.  And I am still mourning my Rudy.
      Tuesday morning my lungs were hurting and I was coughing terribly.  I was too sick to shower before my appointment and going into Boston seemed to take eternity.  After a Nebulizer treatment and a chest X-Ray it was determined that it was asthma.
     I am thankful that my lungs are starting to feel better and that my fears of death and  my depression have lifted.  I am thankful that I am recovering from Rudy's death.  And I am thankful for all the people who took care of me and thought of me this past, sad, hard, week.