So one night I’m in Boston for a friend’s wedding and after an evening of running around, drinking beer and having fun I wake up in the middle of the night in a hotel bed and can’t breathe. Absolutely no clue what’s happening. But I’m pretty sure the 3 AM hotel desk dude doesn’t have medical training and I don’t know if I feel bad enough to go to the hospital (which I’m guessing is not an uncommon thought for a number of people who are currently dead) so I cough my way through it and because I was still at the age where I thought I was bulletproof, didn’t think much more about it.
I absolutely love your writing. 😊