I'm sitting here, in my recliner [I've definitely gotten my money's worth out of this recliner in the past few months] and this song is stuck in my head. The lyrics in my head, though, are different. They go something like - Vaporizer to the left, diffuser to the right, here I am....
I've got pneumonia. I didn't believe it at first when I finally dragged myself in to get checked out Sunday morning. I'm susceptible to pneumonia, having been born with it, and getting it numerous times as a child and teenager, but I've kept it at bay now for a good 20 years. I've been feeling crummy since Thursday evening, but finally went in when it hit my ears. Nailing my own diagnosises (should be a word) for years now, I was certain it was an ear or sinus infection. Not.
I grew up in the 70's. A time wherein it wasn't yet fully realized that in the house smoking and living in an old plaster home in a constant state of remodel might be, well, bad for me. That was just life as it was. It was an era where ashtrays were given as wedding gifts, a kid's chore was to empty the ashtrays and they knew when I walked my pre-teen self up to the counter at the corner store with two dollars in my hand that it was for one pack of Kool Longs and one pack of Pall Malls. They also knew to save the 50 cent pieces for me, because every time I 'got lucky' (wink) and got a 50 cent piece instead of 2 quarters for change - mom and dad let me put that in my piggy bank. Somewhere around here is a scrapbook layout about my childhood tobacco runs.
Where was I....
A large part of my childhood was spent playing Atari (LOVED Breakout!), in the office of our home, while attached to my breathing treatment machine. The office was a room we had to have permission to go into. It was also the only room on the lower level that was actually finished. It had a wall of bookshelves (where my mom hid her childhood diary), a large desk, orangish shag carpeted walls and slate topped end tables and coffee table. It was on that where both the breathing machine and the Atari sat. I sat on our classic 70's woodframe couch.
The other memory I have of frequent lung problems was percussion for lung clearance. I Googled it last night, and it's still a thing. An evening routine in our home would be for me to toss the couch cushions on the floor, position myself so that my head was lower than my middle, and my mom would begin pounding my back and sides for what felt like forever. I'm sure we had the TV on, but I also suffered frequent hearing loss and often had tubes (still do), so with the pounding going on - I'm sure I didn't hear a thing. Brady Bunch, even then, was often reruns anyway.
For kicks and giggles, I had Wendy try percussion on me last night. I didn't notice any immediate relief, but we had fun chatting. My hearing is better today than it was in the 70's. Then again, I'm often guilty of starting rumors for hearing things incorrectly.....
But anyway.
On Sunday I went to Redicare, and I guess I was just a smidge away from being sent to the hospital. I made a promise to go to the ER if I felt any worse, and I went home and crawled in bed. When I went for my follow-up yesterday, I showed slight improvement, while someone else was being hauled off in an ambulance. True story.
Me: So....what are my limitations? Can I go to work? (PT? Anything?)
Dr: Where do you work?
Me: The elementary schoo....... Dr: Hahahahahhaahhahaha. NO.
Mandatory two days off. NOT good timing.
I'm a little dumbfounded too, because I'm super careful just knowing that I'm susceptible. In 8th grade, the doctor told me I had to quit track because often practice was in the rain, I was overexerting, and getting pneumonia. It was heartbreaking at that age to quit. I live pretty cautiously now - choosing layers (better options now than back then) appropriately, I'm a fair weather runner - or I set myself up to get into a hot shower Instantly after a rainy run - and I don't overdo it.
And then I remembered. The one thing that I've let slip - probably since I've started wearing progressive readers - is wearing something over my mouth in the cold. I'm sure that's it. Something to get back into the habit of.
So. Here I am, in my recliner for several days with very limited activity options. Hello blog!
Wendy, who has co-op, so a shortened day, arrived home just a bit ago. We had a few minutes of conversation, I said something stupid, and she rebutted with something along the lines of, "Mom, this is MY quiet time and if you're going to be here you have to at least be nice"
And I laughed. Her: What's.so.funny?
Me: What's funny is that I was so enjoying the quiet and thinking...oh, Wendy is going to be home soon and I won't have the house to myself anymore. But Oh - Wendy has that senior thing tomorrow - so I'll have the house and quiet to myself just a little bit longer on Wednesday!
Neither of us are even noisy, or even on the same floor - but we are so much alike.
Peace out.
