Robitussin tastes like childhood.
I've been saying I need to get back to posting here, but life has been boring because I have had the Death Cold that's been going around. Which has turned into acute bronchitis + bronchospasm, because my lungs.
This happens often. My lungs getting colonized, turning what would have been a quick misery for a healthy person into a month-long ordeal for me. I was hanging in there all last week, but took a turn for the worse this weekend; managed to hold on until this morning, called my doctor - and found that he was out for Columbus Day. >.< So. Urgent Care.
It's been a really long time since I've had to go to Urgent Care or the ER for anything to do with my lungs; last time I went was because of the broken foot, and that was very clearly A Problem. I was concerned that I wouldn't be taken seriously about my symptoms, that they'd dismiss it as just a cold, that I'd be all tiny and frustrated and not-listened-to as I tried to explain that my lungs do this all the time and I'm really not in here over nothing. I'm really medically fragile, not Hysterical.
And then the doctor swooped in, looked at my brief medical history, and said "Oh, EDS! What type?" and I knew I would be okay. Because a doctor who knows about EDS knows that people with vEDS have fucked-up hollow organs. He knew that I was in there because sometimes when vEDS patients' lungs are unhappy, they'll just fucking collapse (which mine did when I was hospitalized for pneumonia twice as a kid).
My lungs are apparently super loud right now. Which made him chuckle, because he knows chronic pain patients - how we present as looking pretty okay and speaking in full sentences when in reality shit has gone very wrong in our bodies. I might be a little textbook there.
So I got a nebulizer treatment. And that helped a *little* bit, but not enough, so I got 60mg of prednisone right there and a prescription for more, plus Robitussin with codeine.
"Do not hesitate," he said, "to come back here if you have any more difficulty breathing, or if you start coughing up anything green. Seriously. Come right back." I should've come earlier. I'll do better next time.
But yeah, I won the Urgent Care lottery. Seriously. This never happens.
I hate Robitussin.
gizmometer is also sick, and was talking about taking Dimetapp and liking it, and I full-body shuddered, because Dimetapp is the flavor of my childhood. My respiratory system has been screwy since I was four, and I used to have to take Dimetapp every night. I hated it. I remember bargaining with my mom - if I took my Dimetapp, I got five pretzel sticks. No, ten. No, fifteen.
(Childhood with fucked-up lungs: Dimetapp, Ventolin pills, leaning over a sink full of hot water with a towel over my head to keep the steam in, oxygen tent in the hospital, the hideous shock of pneumothorax.)
I took my damn Robitussin, because I don't think the bronchitis has ever been quite this bad, and I have to take it seriously. Or maybe this is basic bronchitis and I'm just nervous because of the vEDS diagnosis, because I know more ways in which this can hurt me.
(Different people treat me different ways, when they grok that my body is not a healthy body. I like Matthew's response: he tucks the knowledge away and treats me no differently. Pity frustrates and annoys me; it accomplishes nothing. Trust that I'm taking care of myself and will let you know if there's a problem or if I need an accommodation, and give me days where I can go without thinking about it.)
So that's where I am right now. No spoons. Steroids. Rest and hydration.
When I was talking about how I needed to get back to posting here, I asked melebeth what I should post about; she said zombies. I have already written my final word on zombies! So here it is: "Becca at the End of the World".
This happens often. My lungs getting colonized, turning what would have been a quick misery for a healthy person into a month-long ordeal for me. I was hanging in there all last week, but took a turn for the worse this weekend; managed to hold on until this morning, called my doctor - and found that he was out for Columbus Day. >.< So. Urgent Care.
It's been a really long time since I've had to go to Urgent Care or the ER for anything to do with my lungs; last time I went was because of the broken foot, and that was very clearly A Problem. I was concerned that I wouldn't be taken seriously about my symptoms, that they'd dismiss it as just a cold, that I'd be all tiny and frustrated and not-listened-to as I tried to explain that my lungs do this all the time and I'm really not in here over nothing. I'm really medically fragile, not Hysterical.
And then the doctor swooped in, looked at my brief medical history, and said "Oh, EDS! What type?" and I knew I would be okay. Because a doctor who knows about EDS knows that people with vEDS have fucked-up hollow organs. He knew that I was in there because sometimes when vEDS patients' lungs are unhappy, they'll just fucking collapse (which mine did when I was hospitalized for pneumonia twice as a kid).
My lungs are apparently super loud right now. Which made him chuckle, because he knows chronic pain patients - how we present as looking pretty okay and speaking in full sentences when in reality shit has gone very wrong in our bodies. I might be a little textbook there.
So I got a nebulizer treatment. And that helped a *little* bit, but not enough, so I got 60mg of prednisone right there and a prescription for more, plus Robitussin with codeine.
"Do not hesitate," he said, "to come back here if you have any more difficulty breathing, or if you start coughing up anything green. Seriously. Come right back." I should've come earlier. I'll do better next time.
But yeah, I won the Urgent Care lottery. Seriously. This never happens.
I hate Robitussin.
gizmometer is also sick, and was talking about taking Dimetapp and liking it, and I full-body shuddered, because Dimetapp is the flavor of my childhood. My respiratory system has been screwy since I was four, and I used to have to take Dimetapp every night. I hated it. I remember bargaining with my mom - if I took my Dimetapp, I got five pretzel sticks. No, ten. No, fifteen.
(Childhood with fucked-up lungs: Dimetapp, Ventolin pills, leaning over a sink full of hot water with a towel over my head to keep the steam in, oxygen tent in the hospital, the hideous shock of pneumothorax.)
I took my damn Robitussin, because I don't think the bronchitis has ever been quite this bad, and I have to take it seriously. Or maybe this is basic bronchitis and I'm just nervous because of the vEDS diagnosis, because I know more ways in which this can hurt me.
(Different people treat me different ways, when they grok that my body is not a healthy body. I like Matthew's response: he tucks the knowledge away and treats me no differently. Pity frustrates and annoys me; it accomplishes nothing. Trust that I'm taking care of myself and will let you know if there's a problem or if I need an accommodation, and give me days where I can go without thinking about it.)
So that's where I am right now. No spoons. Steroids. Rest and hydration.
When I was talking about how I needed to get back to posting here, I asked melebeth what I should post about; she said zombies. I have already written my final word on zombies! So here it is: "Becca at the End of the World".