[14TH CENTURY. ULTIMATELY < GERMANIC, AN IMITATION OF THE SOUND]

I have been paying particular attention this week to the subject of breathing.

At first it was only a slight tickle in my throat, which became a light clearing of my throat.

But then, taking matters into its own hands, it rapidly developed into a racking, hacking cough of a ex-smoker.

Forcing me into violent contortions while trying to simultaneously to cough up what was clogging my windpipe while drawing in enough breath in to fuel the muscles that were trying to cough.

It swiftly became one of those embarrassing situations where the action of trying to get rid of something triggers another bodily purpose which is, in civilized society, is conducted in private.

Translation: trying not to pee while coughing up a lung.

It's much better after a visit to my favorite physician, although the household is ribbing me incessantly about the quality and quantity of noise which I continue to produce every few minutes.

The dogs are positioning themselves as far away from me as possible, the horses have been startled into a full-out gallop around the pasture, and the cat has simply disappeared.

More cough syrup, anyone?