Six years ago, my left lung collapsed.
When I woke up in the recovery room with tube in my chest, the first thing I did was ask the surgeon why this happened to me.
He said it was spontaneous.
Spontaneous. Really. That’s your diagnosis? That’s the best you can do? Surely there must a more biological reason behind this physically traumatic episode.
Not really. It just happens, he said.
Excuse me, but nothing just happens. Especially not the sudden failure of my primary respiratory function.
So instead of accepting what the doctor said, I spent the next week in the hospital making a diagnosis of my own.
My lung collapsed because I got too successful, too fast, too early. My lung collapsed because I didn’t have a healthy relationship with my breath. My lung collapsed because I allowed my career to take priority over my health. My lung collapsed because I didn’t possess the physical, emotional and mental constitution to manage my own chaotic life.
I told myself a lie because I knew the truth wouldn’t be enough for me to change.
And it was the best decision I ever made.
Sometimes dishonesty is the best diagnosis.
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* * * * Scott Ginsberg That Guy with the Nametag Writing, Publishing, Performing, Consulting email@example.com
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