In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

• Breath Junkie
• Havi Carel (bio)

1. Breath junkie

I am a breath junkie. Forever worrying about where the next breath will come from. Will I have enough? Enough to get through the night. Enough to walk up a slope. Enough to finish the trail.

Everything is measured in breath. How much breath do I need to walk in the park? How much for a day trip?

My hunger for breath is insatiable. Air hunger—always, always wanting more. Always needing more than I can get.

I suffer humiliation, daily, when I move, so slow, so needy. I humbly bow my head to my sadistic body, meting out blows. I accept silently the myriad failures notched down to a daily tally of catastrophic inability. Can’t lift that; can’t walk that far; can’t keep up; can’t join in.

I used to rebel, try harder, get angry.

No more.

Now I know my place. I’m a lowlife breath junkie.

Everything comes second to the breath.

2. My body’s weather

My body’s weather is always too hot or too cold. Too dry or too wet. It always requires something. If I’m sitting down, it needs the bathroom. If I’m standing up, it gets fatigued. If I’m walking, it gets breathless. [End Page 248] If I’m talking, it forces me to stop. There is always the possibility of a storm. The threat of an avalanche. The risk of a flood. My body is the master of my world. It dictates if I can come or go. Board that train. Give that talk. Stay for dinner. Talk or be shut up.

3. Bondage

I am my body’s slave. Not the captain of a ship. I am a slave, bonded to it for life. I am forever tending to it, unsuccessfully. Like a plot of barren land, it never does what it’s supposed to. Never flourishes. I am a failed farmer. The crops never grow. I know that my labor will always be in vain. “you will never get better,” a physician once told me. “don’t bother trying.” And yet I bother. I lament my body’s failed mechanics, the ruined alveoli, replaced by holes within my lungs. I endlessly pine for more breath. Everything is too hard. I am so slow I bore myself. I am always the last.

A disgrace.

Whatever happens, I will remain a slave. No one can buy me out or help me escape. I am forever shackled to my failing lungs. Perpetual bondage to air hunger, tight chest, fear, and the inability to do, to be, to act, to fit in with the tempo of life. Always too fast.

4. Unlaced

I don’t worry about the big things: death, Covid-19. I only worry about the small things. Will my son have a clean t-shirt for his play date? Will we get a table outside in that café? Did I remember to pay the window cleaner? My worries are petty, dull and constant. They keep me going. I don’t worry about the big things. It is not a theme for my consciousness to chew on. The big things have been etched into my life and body (the master!) years ago. They are sewn into the fabric of my life in a complex knotted lace, so intricate I cannot begin to unravel it. The pattern so minute it is invisible to the naked eye. The odd thread comes loose in a dream. A green lizard; a greying man; an arm lifted. But I forget; I lose the thread. [End Page 249]

I am a hermetically sealed breathing machine, with faulty electrics.

Grotesquely malfunctioning in a semblance of the everyday.

5. Green lizard

The soft engine of my body chokes and stutters,

Ineffectual.

Screams of loss pummelled by fatigue.

The possibility of love requires breath. [End Page 250]

Havi Carel

Havi Carel is Professor of Philosophy at the University of Bristol. She recently completed a Wellcome Trust Senior Investigator Award for the five-year project the Life of Breath (www.lifeofbreath.org), which received the Health Humanities’ Inspiration Award 2018. She is the author of Illness...

中文翻译：

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呼吸迷

代替摘要，这里是内容的简短摘录：

• 呼吸迷
• 哈维·卡雷尔（生物）

1. 呼吸迷

我是一个呼吸瘾君子。永远担心下一次呼吸从哪里来。我会吃饱吗？够熬夜了。爬一个斜坡就够了。足以完成小径。

一切都以呼吸来衡量。在公园里散步需要多少呼吸？一日游多少钱？

我对呼吸的渴望是无止境的。空气饥饿——总是，总是想要更多。总是需要比我能得到的更多。

当我搬家时，我每天都遭受羞辱，如此缓慢，如此需要。我谦虚地向我虐待狂的身体低下头，打了起来。我默默地接受无数的失败，这些失败归结为每天灾难性的无能。提不起那个；走不了那么远；跟不上；不能加入。

我曾经反叛，更努力，生气。

不再。

现在我知道我的位置了。我是一个低俗的呼吸瘾君子。

一切都仅次于呼吸。

2.我身体的天气

我身体的天气总是太热或太冷。太干或太湿。它总是需要一些东西。如果我坐下，它需要浴室。如果我站起来，它会感到疲倦。如果我走路，它会喘不过气来。[第 248 页结束]如果我在说话，它会迫使我停下来。总是有暴风雨的可能。雪崩的威胁。洪水的危险。我的身体是我世界的主人。它决定了我是否可以来或去。登上那列火车。给那个谈话。留下来吃晚饭。说话或闭嘴。

3. 束缚

我是我身体的奴隶。不是船长。我是一个奴隶，终生与它结合。我永远倾向于它，但没有成功。就像一块贫瘠的土地，它永远不会做它应该做的事情。永不繁荣。我是一个失败的农民。庄稼永远长不起来。我知道我的努力永远是徒劳的。“你永远不会好起来，”一位医生曾经告诉我。“别费心去尝试。” 然而我很烦。我哀叹我身体的机械故障，肺泡被毁坏，被我肺部的洞所取代。我无休止地渴望更多的呼吸。一切都太难了。我太慢了，我厌烦了自己。我永远是最后一个。

一个耻辱。

无论发生什么，我都将成为奴隶。没有人可以收买我或帮助我逃脱。我永远被我衰竭的肺所束缚。对空气饥饿、胸闷、恐惧的永久束缚，以及无法做、做、做、适应生活的节奏。总是太快。

4. 解开

我不担心大事：死亡，Covid-19。我只担心小事。我儿子的玩耍日期会有干净的 T 恤吗？我们会在那家咖啡馆外面找一张桌子吗？我记得付钱给窗户清洁工吗？我的担忧是微不足道的、沉闷的和持续的。他们让我继续前进。我不担心大事。这不是我的意识咀嚼的主题。几年前，大事已经刻在我的生活和身体（主人！）中。它们用复杂的打结花边缝在我生活的结构中，如此复杂，我无法开始解开它。图案如此微小，肉眼是看不见的。奇怪的线在梦中松了。一只绿蜥蜴；一个白发苍苍的人；一只手臂抬起。但我忘记了；我丢了线。[第249页结束]

我是一个密封的呼吸机，电气故障。

在日常生活中的怪诞故障。

5.绿蜥蜴

我身体的软引擎窒息和口吃，

无效。

因疲劳而失落的尖叫声。

爱的可能性需要呼吸。[第 250 页结束]

哈维卡雷尔

Havi Carel是布里斯托大学的哲学教授。她最近完成了一项为期五年的生命呼吸项目 (www.lifeofbreath.org) 的 Wellcome Trust 高级研究员奖，该项目获得了 2018 年健康人文灵感奖。她是疾病...的作者。