Even though my lungs are in superb shape, I still have reduced lung capacity and require a CPAP to sleep.
I would like to share a quip from a 1970 comic from Pravda (newspaper of the former USSR), a trucker with clouds of smoke belching from his exhaust pipe says to a bicyclist, "You think I have it bad; you have to breathe twice as much of our bad air as I do.”
Sadly, my sixty-year-old retiree by disability friend recently told me that he just buried his twin brother who died of lung cancer not from smoking but from living next the path of a coal train in Camas, WA.
