Sunshine and Albuterol
So, it's spring and that means it must be pleurisy. Again.
I saw the doctor on Tuesday and he agreed that some of the pain sounds pleuritic and some of it sounds muscular. There comes a point when it all blends and I just can't tell the inside from the outside pain. That would be why I bit the bullet and found me a local doctor to talk to after living here more than nine months already.
He offered me drugs. I took the albuterol, of course, because it seemed like the past episodes were helped with inhaling things more than with antibiotics; this clinic is anti-antibiotic for any potential infection, and that's both fine and sane. When he offered one of two pain meds, I said oh, no, those sound like the things you give patients after surgery. It's not that bad I'll just take over the counter stuff, kay? And he said sure, but if you change your mind, just call.
I called Wednesday morning around 10. Over the counter wasn't touching it, not even a tiny blessed bit. Missed the pharmacy's operational hours, so I had to wait until after work Thursday. Tylenol 3. Mmm, codeine. Even with that, I can still feel it, still know when I've walked too fast or breathed too deeply, and I wish to God I could just take two weeks (or half a year) off and be convalescent like characters in Jane Austen books.
What got me out of bed this morning, though, was listening to what's either bubbles or crackles as the two linings rub against each other. Mom said, "Maybe it's a sign that the inhaler is doing its job, bringing up what needs to be brought up." Maybe this is the case, maybe it isn't. It still freaks me out, and that's what I said. "So don't listen to it," she said. She's too damn pragmatic some days. i have to listen to it, though, if I'm going to concentrate on not breathing too deeply, I'm bound to hear it.
Also, I'm tired of this. It's Episode III of the Pleuritic Pain series, and the doctor was suitably concerned about the number of times it's shown up and the fact that I've never known what the underlying cause was. So. If this isn't better in two weeks, we go back and there will be more and other tests, they'll try to get the x-rays from my hospital nightmare sent up from Las Vegas, and maybe we'll play with a CT scan again. Whoopee.
If it makes the pain go away, though, and stay away and let me breathe in whatever way I care to breathe, I'm all for that.
I saw the doctor on Tuesday and he agreed that some of the pain sounds pleuritic and some of it sounds muscular. There comes a point when it all blends and I just can't tell the inside from the outside pain. That would be why I bit the bullet and found me a local doctor to talk to after living here more than nine months already.
He offered me drugs. I took the albuterol, of course, because it seemed like the past episodes were helped with inhaling things more than with antibiotics; this clinic is anti-antibiotic for any potential infection, and that's both fine and sane. When he offered one of two pain meds, I said oh, no, those sound like the things you give patients after surgery. It's not that bad I'll just take over the counter stuff, kay? And he said sure, but if you change your mind, just call.
I called Wednesday morning around 10. Over the counter wasn't touching it, not even a tiny blessed bit. Missed the pharmacy's operational hours, so I had to wait until after work Thursday. Tylenol 3. Mmm, codeine. Even with that, I can still feel it, still know when I've walked too fast or breathed too deeply, and I wish to God I could just take two weeks (or half a year) off and be convalescent like characters in Jane Austen books.
What got me out of bed this morning, though, was listening to what's either bubbles or crackles as the two linings rub against each other. Mom said, "Maybe it's a sign that the inhaler is doing its job, bringing up what needs to be brought up." Maybe this is the case, maybe it isn't. It still freaks me out, and that's what I said. "So don't listen to it," she said. She's too damn pragmatic some days. i have to listen to it, though, if I'm going to concentrate on not breathing too deeply, I'm bound to hear it.
Also, I'm tired of this. It's Episode III of the Pleuritic Pain series, and the doctor was suitably concerned about the number of times it's shown up and the fact that I've never known what the underlying cause was. So. If this isn't better in two weeks, we go back and there will be more and other tests, they'll try to get the x-rays from my hospital nightmare sent up from Las Vegas, and maybe we'll play with a CT scan again. Whoopee.
If it makes the pain go away, though, and stay away and let me breathe in whatever way I care to breathe, I'm all for that.