Tuesday, October 04, 2005

wheezy breezy covergirl: part II

So, the worst was over, right? Not hardly. I had to have an IV. Now, you should know that I have a serious IV phobia. In fact, I have a whole vein phobia. Just writing this is creeping me out and I can't stop focussing on the rising veins on my hands as I type. I have serious issues. But my hero nurse was a pro and was very sympathetic to my juvenile fears. He told me 2 more ventolin treatments and some rehydrating via the IV and I was free to go. But first I had to meet with the respiration therapist. The guy came in and he was a total dude. He seemed maybe 16 and talked like a snowboarder. He informed me that things were improving but I was still pretty tight. It took me a minute to decide if he this was dude-speak or a medical term. I assumed he meant my lungs and he was right. He told me he had to go confer with the doctor, look at my x-rays and make a decision about me. 10 minutes later the doctor came in and told me that I was suffering from acute episodic asthma attacks. He prescribed me an inhaler and 7 days of steroids (side effects: increased hunger, restlessness and weight gain - neat). I was free to go. The IV bag was empty. The ventolin had run out.

My nurse came in to say good-bye. He told me that I looked much, much, much better than I did when I came in. He went on a bit more about how awful I had looked. My horrified expression must have caused him to change the subject because he quickly added that he couldn't imagine how scary it must have been - not being able to breathe and all. Better. I thanked him profusely and for a moment I almost didn't want to leave my storage room. He was nice and made me feel safe. But it was time to go home. I was exhausted and a little depressed and confused about becoming asthmatic at the age of 33. I have since learned it's quite common.

I made it through the night with only a few cough attacks. I realized that I had been breathing at half if not less capacity for at least a week. The ventolin and the prednisone had cracked my lungs wide open and I could really appreciate proper airflow. Today I felt much better, although walking back and forth to the bathroom had me wheezing and trying to catch my breath. I will have to take it easy for a bit and make an appointment with my family doctor to find out if I will have this long-term or if it is simply episodic - something I may be prone to if I get a serious chest infection.

And so concludes my month-long foray into poor health. But I'm not really sick anymore. No pnemonia and my lung infection seems to have cleared up. Sure, I may be asthmatic. Big deal. Besides, I've always secretly wanted an inhaler since I was a kid. I can now concentrate on feeling healthier. I mean, let's face it... there is no way things can get any worse than they have been for the past month or so. Yes, it's once again a time of uncertainty. When isn't it?

You cross your fingers for me. You wish me luck in my job search. You wish upon a star that I can afford my rent and maybe while you're at it request that I lose a few pounds - no point in disturbing a star for one measley wish.

I'm sure there will be some new disaster in the near future for me to report, but I promise to give you the truncated version. This post is stupidly long. For all you word-skimmers out there, I forgive you this one time.

And now, I will go to sleep. Tomorrow hopefully I will hear more about when I can get back into the CBC to get my stuff. And who knows? Maybe I won't have to pack up my desk.


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