Lack of Oxygen to the Brain

My first mistake was to work on Kate’s Backyard Leaves at Vicroads, waiting to exchange my Ohio driving license for a Victorian one. I was halfway through the last repeat when I realised I’d messed up, most likely around the time when The Bold & The Beautiful started playing on the overhead TV, and I was concentrating on not missing my number on the digital display.

Later, in the emergency room, the doctor asks if I’ve been sick recently. Yes, I have, I answer, oxygen mask strapped to my face, nebulised Ventolin swirling around my head. I’ve had a cold, or something, for more than a week, and my chest aches from coughing. But I haven’t had severe asthma in a really long time, and I thought perhaps that I might’ve grown out of it. Anything else that could have brought this on? he asks. Food? Stress?

Yes, I answer, far too urgently: I have STRESS. I’ve had to rip back. I’ve lost my place on my chart and possibly two stitches. I had to put it down to come in here. I can breathe now, thank you, but can anyone help me with this?