"Shit doctors say..." + "Vardo Ho!"
Between the ages of 5 and 20 I was a severe asthmatic.
Spending years of my life in the hospital
as every cold turned to bronchitis,
as every bronchial infection
turned to pneumonia
and the drowning would begin.
This shit is old hat to me.
I didn't grow out of it,
but my symptoms lessened
and I have spent the last 15 years
treating my asthma like a 'bad dog'
using my rescue inhaler.
*Cough*
*Wheeze*
*Puff* Bad Asthma! BAD!
*Puff*
Which is how uninsured people
learn to 'get by' with chronic conditions
when the best medications are $700/mo.
Turns out, I can survive on the $12/month inhaler
and struggle through daily symptoms.
BANGARANG!
Of course, my GP didn't like that
but he wasn't willing to pay $700 for my meds either.
Well, living the high life of having health insurance
(Thanks, Obama!)
My GP is all-like...
"Wanna go to a vascular surgeon about your funny leg?"
YES!
"Wanna go to a pulmonologist for your asthma?"
YES!
So, I pass from beige office to beige office
and slide into giant magnetic tubes
and have my blood drained and
participate in the battery of breathing tests.
Turns out? The doctors scratch their heads.
"Well, you have asthma..."
Uh-huh....
"...and you are allergic to cats..."
I look at my doctor, and try not to sound sarcastic.
"Yeah,... I know."
He begins reciting information on how to avoid "my triggers".
"Yeah,... I know."
Can I tell you something? A side story?
I don't say this to the doc,
I'm saying it to you.
My best friend is an animal lover.
Right now she is "down" to two cats,
a parrot, and a slightly retarded dog.
I've lived with her as a roommate 2x,
and she is an ANGEL
because I am SO ALLERGIC TO CATS
it is not even funny.
She actually ABIDED by rules which stated
she could not sit on my bed
without laying down a FRESH towel
and she had to take off whatever footwear
she was using around the house
before entering my room.
Cats are my lungs' NEMESIS!
Those cute, cuddly, BASTARDS!
So, when the doctor calls to say,
"Hey, I just wanted to update you,
your blood panel came back.
You have asthma and it looks like you are *very* allergic to cats.
You should try to avoid contact if possible..."
It is like a NASA engineer
seriously instructing Neil Armstrong that "space is not like Earth"
and that he should avoid taking off his helmet on the moon,
"if at all possible".
I know I am supposed to say "thank you" for his
advice as a trained medical professional,
but really I want to say is:
*headdesk*
But!
The world is not just doctors stating the obvious
and my futile headdesking about it.
No, no, my Chits and Chitlins...
because Delightful Manfriend and I are beginning
our long and arduous quest through the annuls of
time, space, reverse-engineering, and building codes
to make ourselves:
A GYPSY VARDO.
We've been talking about it for a couple years,
but we have now high-fived on it.
It's official.
Vardo.
It's happening.
Not overnight, no...
our project list is
long, broad, deep, and existential
but it's just good to know
our dreams and our to-do lists
are the very same things.
Spending years of my life in the hospital
as every cold turned to bronchitis,
as every bronchial infection
turned to pneumonia
and the drowning would begin.
This shit is old hat to me.
I didn't grow out of it,
but my symptoms lessened
and I have spent the last 15 years
treating my asthma like a 'bad dog'
using my rescue inhaler.
*Cough*
*Wheeze*
*Puff* Bad Asthma! BAD!
*Puff*
Which is how uninsured people
learn to 'get by' with chronic conditions
when the best medications are $700/mo.
Turns out, I can survive on the $12/month inhaler
and struggle through daily symptoms.
BANGARANG!
Of course, my GP didn't like that
but he wasn't willing to pay $700 for my meds either.
Well, living the high life of having health insurance
(Thanks, Obama!)
My GP is all-like...
"Wanna go to a vascular surgeon about your funny leg?"
YES!
"Wanna go to a pulmonologist for your asthma?"
YES!
So, I pass from beige office to beige office
and slide into giant magnetic tubes
and have my blood drained and
participate in the battery of breathing tests.
Turns out? The doctors scratch their heads.
"Well, you have asthma..."
Uh-huh....
"...and you are allergic to cats..."
I look at my doctor, and try not to sound sarcastic.
"Yeah,... I know."
He begins reciting information on how to avoid "my triggers".
"Yeah,... I know."
Can I tell you something? A side story?
I don't say this to the doc,
I'm saying it to you.
My best friend is an animal lover.
Right now she is "down" to two cats,
a parrot, and a slightly retarded dog.
I've lived with her as a roommate 2x,
and she is an ANGEL
because I am SO ALLERGIC TO CATS
it is not even funny.
She actually ABIDED by rules which stated
she could not sit on my bed
without laying down a FRESH towel
and she had to take off whatever footwear
she was using around the house
before entering my room.
Cats are my lungs' NEMESIS!
Those cute, cuddly, BASTARDS!
So, when the doctor calls to say,
"Hey, I just wanted to update you,
your blood panel came back.
You have asthma and it looks like you are *very* allergic to cats.
You should try to avoid contact if possible..."
It is like a NASA engineer
seriously instructing Neil Armstrong that "space is not like Earth"
and that he should avoid taking off his helmet on the moon,
"if at all possible".
I know I am supposed to say "thank you" for his
advice as a trained medical professional,
but really I want to say is:
*headdesk*
But!
The world is not just doctors stating the obvious
and my futile headdesking about it.
No, no, my Chits and Chitlins...
because Delightful Manfriend and I are beginning
our long and arduous quest through the annuls of
time, space, reverse-engineering, and building codes
to make ourselves:
A GYPSY VARDO.
We've been talking about it for a couple years,
but we have now high-fived on it.
It's official.
Vardo.
It's happening.
Not overnight, no...
our project list is
long, broad, deep, and existential
but it's just good to know
our dreams and our to-do lists
are the very same things.