January 16 2025

I think nasal congestion (nose block) has become a chronic illness of mine. I remember when it started — after I had an operation on my noses to treat nose bleed in 8th or 9th grade. But I can’t remember the last time a day went by without me struggling to take in enough air from my noses alone. This morning during breakfast, as usual, I had to stop eating multiple times to gasp for breath. Especially when I eat the kind of food that requires my mouth to be closed most of the time, like oatmeal or orange wedges on the peel, I would even have to stop between chewing and tilt my head upwards to open my mouth and inhale in some more air. Nasal congestion also makes me not want to sing, which was really a pity since this winter break was a perfect time to sing when no one’s around to be disturbed.

Yesterday night, after accidentally eating a bit too full at dinner, my stomach became bloated and upset again came again, after ~2-3 days without symptoms. The consequence lingered even until this morning.

My natural response is being fixated on those physical discomfort and feeling frustrated about having to go through them. However, I just realized (or remembered?) another way to think about this: thinking about the things I am still doing despite those discomfort, and the things I can do with those discomfort. For example, the oatmeal breakfast that I am still eating and enjoying the taste, despite the blocked noses or the easily upset stomach. Another example, the dances that I can still easily do with blocked noses and the stomach disease.

These thoughts were inspired from reading Paul Kalanithi’s When Breath Becomes Air again these days. Some of his quotes that I naturally remember by heart:

“The more tortured my body became, the more I relished having done the work.”

“even if I’m dying, until I actually die, I am still living.”

This quote is true for me and everyone as well. We are all dying, and there’s no guarantee we are living longer than Paul because we don’t (or haven’t) received a cancer diagnosis. But until I actually die, rather than living with the physical discomfort as the focus, I will live with the things I can do despite the physical discomfort as the focus. Rather than living in preparation for death, I will keep living for life.