Extreme to the next

As the cold air brushes past my neck
I think and worry
Of all the hearts frozen shut.

When my breath runs short from running with dogs
My eyes close in fear of suffocation.

The times my stomach feels out of sorts.
I shudder and quake
At the mere thought of dysentery.

If I wake up with a headache and forget a word
I shake my head at the idea of losing it.