…the bad news is, it’ll take a few weeks to calibrate a proper schedule for albuterol.
Ladies and gents, I was diagnosed with asthma yesterday afternoon. I managed by the skin of my teeth to snag an appointment at Kaiser, and got checked out, listened to, scoped, you name it. I thought it was chronic bronchitis, because anything and everything makes me cough. From Pancho pissing me off because he left a “present” on the floor, to the hens ganging up on me for recess, to work stress, to jackasses on BART applying nail polish in a closed space (I shit you all NOT on that), to noxious synthetic perfumes, to dust, to Spare the Air days, and then back again. Everything results in overly stimulated bronchial tubes, phlegm, and a coughing fit that makes me sound like I have the consumption. It was getting a hell of a lot better, and then we had this horrible heat, and something like 3 Spare the Air days in a row, in my region.
My initial thought for this post was a slightly tongue-in-cheek but highly reactive and angry, “I’d like to thank the Academy, and all my insular relatives, for blessing me with a chronic lung disease…” rant. I may still post that at some point, just to take an emotional dump and clear the pipes as it were. I really am angry. At my grandmothers in particular, for joking that people who bitch about second-hand smoke are selfish asses, when in fact they were the selfish asses for never seeking help with their addictions. It was going to be grand. I was going to post a very special shout-out dedicated to all the hardcore stoners I was exposed to in my youth, as well, from a couple relatives to a crapload of neighbors and their friends. Anyone who tells you that pot smoke is not damaging is a fucking crackhead, ’nuff said. And I am not one of those “we must never legalize this!” zealots, either. I’d rather see it legalized and taxed frankly. But now that we have all these damn dispensaries in the SF Bay Area, I am smelling green burning skunks way more than I should, and let’s face it the smoke is very harsh and I am getting so tired of coughing when I smell it.
(The fact of the matter is I’ve had this for years, probably, and repeated illness due to disgusting commuter trains and my stressful job totally egged it on to a crisis moment where I needed to make sure I wasn’t dying or something ridiculous like that. And I cannot overstate how grateful I am that the cats don’t make me cough in general. Not being able to snuggle and hold and play with them would be pretty devastating. Same goes for the chickens.)
But that was the Angry Sara of this morning. Right now I’m the Too Bloody Exhausted to Bitch Much Sara, and I have to actually crash for a couple hours just so I can do chores tonight and not collapse.
If anything and everything makes you cough up a lung, get screened for asthma, eh. You don’t have to be a wheezer to be an asthmatic.