Singing was the only time I felt in control of my lungs and, paradoxically, able to forget about them. It was October, and my shortness of breath had worsened after weeks of teasing improvement. I felt breathless walking or resting, lying down or sitting, working or watching Netflix, talking or silently meditating—but not while singing. Since my likely COVID-19 infection last June, I’ve grown familiar with the discomfort and frustration of feeling as if my body isn’t getting all the air that it needs. I’ve also come to deeply appreciate the moments when my breathing returns to its autonomous function and takes up no portion of my consciousness. My early symptoms a year ago were fairly typical for COVID-19: sore throat, headache, fatigue, and shortness of breath. Although I never tested positive for SARS-CoV-2, some of my doctors believe that I was infected. I also suspect it, given that I’m …