It’s sad to say, but I’m talking to/about myself with this one. I’ve been writing a post for 4 days now, but I’m in a completely different state of mind now, so I’ll post it later as a reflective piece. Today, I’m kicking butt and taking names again, but Friday wasn’t so much of the same.
I went for an unscheduled clinic visit Friday because Tuesday was a day of misery. I was wheezing and whistling. Each breath was labored. I was coughing up junk with each cough and I was having dozens of spazzes every day. The only things not happening were bleeding or fever.
I was down almost 10 lbs since Feb. 18th, but I blew the same PFTs: 35%. It didn’t make sense how I could feel this bad and still have 97% O2 sats while constantly being out of breath. 97%!! I don’t have that when I feel like a friggin’ ox!
The doctor came in and took a look at my numbers and what I wasn’t doing every day came from Sue… and me. He asked, “Why?”
I’ve been under a lot of stress making sure we have enough money to pay our bills each month now that Beautiful stays home. The amount our budget has gone up since I worked in the office is profound, and now we’ve subtracted her income from the mix. It sure makes budgeting easier to just say, “This is how much you need to earn this month,” but I feel the physical effects of the stress in my lungs.