I’ve written before about what I not-so-affectionately call my limplungs. The cliff notes version is that I’ve had pneumonia many times, which apparently means my lungs are “scarred” (according to an emergency room doctor), and whenever I get any sort of virus, it tends to make a straight shot for my lungs and make itself comfortable.
I used to approach these maladies with what my husband calls my “Christian Scientist” approach to sickness in general, which is to curl my lip at any actual medical intervention (like a visit to a doctor. Antibiotics. OTC medicine. Rest. Whathaveyou) and just mind-over-matter my way through it. This works very well for me with headaches, stomach bugs, minor aches and pains, and a vast assortment of other physical ailments.
It took me a few visits over the past several years to acute care and the emergency room, with the accompanying breathing treatments and shots in the ass (literally), to recognize that maybe when it comes to my limplungs, proactive and aggressive medical intervention is better.
For an educator, I can be a slow learner.
Which is all to say that when I woke up last Sunday morning, after chaperoning 101 seniors on an overnight retreat in the woods, followed by my middle son’s birthday slumber party, I figured my stuffed nose, painful sinuses and burning throat was just allergies and exhaustion. By Wednesday, when I added wheezing, coughing and hacking up brown junk to my symptoms, I knew I had to get on the phone to Teladoc.
(can we just pause a moment and praise the existence of Teladoc? For those of you that don’t have this employee perk, it’s a doctor that you call. And yes, I despise the phone, but I hate waiting rooms and copays even more. This is free and quick. It’s perfect for when you know what you need, but you just need someone with the initials MD to get it for you)
So I called Teladoc and explained that no, I did not need antibiotics because I was pretty sure it was viral (don’t get me started on the over-prescribed antibiotic epidemic) but that I did need a refill on my inhaler because it was out and the gunk was in my lungs and that never ends well. I also explained that I have a triathlon in exactly 11 days and I would really prefer to make my race, so could he hook an athlete up with something?
He prescribed a course of steroids to make sure my lungs cleared up. And a hard pass on my girls’ trip to Austin this weekend, saying the best thing I could possibly do for myself was take it easy and get lots of rest.
No offense to the Teladoc medical professional, but this was a crappy treatment plan all around. For one, steroids make me a little
crazy cranky. For another, NOT THE GIRLS’ WEEKEND I HAVE BEEN WORKING MYSELF INTO THE GROUND FOR 5 STRAIGHT WEEKS GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN, DOC.
But, alas, I knew the “smart” thing to do was to jump on the steroids and bail out on the fun weekend. A combination that, while slowly clearing up my lungs (I’m pretty sure the triathlon will happen as planned next Sunday), has resulted in most of this weekend spent scrolling through social media in a melancholy, weepy, pity party.
I kid. (not really)
It’s not all sad and lonely, however. Today is also the 7th anniversary of my first date with my husband. I blogged about it 3 years ago, and we’re still happily married (jazz hands!) so I’m going to rally and head out to our first date restaurant with him for dinner tonight.
Knock on wood the limplungs make a full recovery and my next post is a triathlon race report!