I went back to the doctors’ office this morning.
In the last 24 hours, my coughing actually got worse and each and every hack was accompanied by the piercing jolts of one rib on my left side as it tried to simultaneously puncture my lung in the front and disconnect from my spine in the back.
I’ve had more fun.
So, with my head hung rather low, I slunk into the clinic, praying that the doc from whom I piously refused any and all medications on Monday was not in today [she wasn’t] and got in line. Being shortly after the clinic opened, it was not long before I saw a doc and I quickly reiterated that I was breastfeeding and was only here seeking some sort of intervention because
my ribs are fucking killing me things had progressed to feeling a discomforting level of … discomfort.
As luck [is that the right word?] would have it, this doctor, today, heard wheezing in my left lung. The same spot that the doc on Monday took an extra listen to, but pronounced wheeze-free. While my suggestion of a nasal spray to clear out the source of my need to cough did provide me with a sample of Flonase, I was also given a prescription for Ventolin to more immediately combat the gasp in my lungs.
I suck at using inhalers.
I never was able to smoke – my youthful,
drunken uninhibited attempts being rather limited and embarrassing – and this seems to have translated to working with puffers. I have used it twice now, and the second time, mere minutes ago, does seem to have left me a little shaky as I was warned that it might. So, perhaps I’m getting the hang of it. I will likely only have to use it for a couple of days – just in time for me to become adept at it, no doubt.
Regardless, I have succumb to the necessary evils of modern medicine. They’d damn well better work. At least before I need a body cast to salvage what will be left of my rib cage if I can’t curb this damn coughing.