Here I found myself again, standing at the edge of the Hamilton Family YMCA pool for the first time in months, toes over the edge, ready to dive headlong into 9 feet of water.
“Ten laps,” I told myself. “That’s all you need to do today.”
t didn’t seem like much. I had done this dozens of times in my days as a lifeguard.
But this was different, and becoming all too familiar.
Two years ago, just before Christmas, I had what doctors call a spontaneous pneumothorax. In plain terms, my lung collapsed – for the first time.
