Found out my lungs don't work...

Went to the doctor and found out that I was operating a pair of 84 year old lungs. I don't even smoke. At least not the last time I checked. Sometimes it smells like I'm burning but I don't think I was actually emitting fumes or clouds of any kind. I did once on an elevator, now that I think of it. But I blamed it on a deaf kid standing next to me. Everybody yelled at him but he didn't care. I promise I wouldn't have blamed him if I knew it would've gotten back to him.
Anyway, I was sick so I went to the doctor and he told me I was sick.
I walked there...with my lungs operating at %50...according to the machine they hooked me up to. My blood pressure was good. Which troubled me because as short of breath as I was, I should have had blood pressure like I was working out. But my body doesn't know what that is, so I can't blame it for not putting too much pressure on itself.
The doctor gave me medicine. An inhaler, antibiotics and a steroid. There was some discussion that I might feel kind of "up" and "focused".
Today, I build a bomb shelter from pieces of discarded thermometers I found throughout the expansive park district properties here in Chicago. Then I dragged it home from the far southside, right next to monument to Bad Bad Leroy Brown. It took a couple hours but I kept my energy up by collecting my steroid infused sweat and inhaling it and then injecting the inhaler right into my head.
Anyway, I feel better and I had time left over to post this blog.
Love,
Me.