I just got back from an appointment with my internist. It was just supposed to be a routine follow-up, but as it turned out I caught a cold from one of the contractors working on the bathroom. The cold has been settling in my chest, and since I have asthma, it’s always a trouble spot.
Tim was listening to me breathe last night, even using my inhaler to the maximum, and said he didn’t like the way it sounded. I didn’t like the way it felt or sounded. Turns out my O2 saturation level is low (94) and I’m wheezing deep in my lungs. Bronchitis! Treated with 5 days of Prednisone.
Turns out I have a love hate relationship with steroids. I like that I will be breathing better within 24 hours. I like that I will have a tremendous energy boost. I like that it takes away many of my joint and muscle pain. I don’t like that it raises my blood sugar and makes me put on weight.
I have two things going on in my head right now. The first is why I have so much trouble admitting that I’m sick and need to rest and take care of myself. The only reason I’m writing this, right now, is that I feel too guilty putting my jammies back on and crawling back into bed (which is what I feel like doing). For some reason, unless I’m running a fever and really can’t move, resting when I’m sick is somehow akin to heresy. it doesn’t matter that I’m wheezing. That I’m having trouble breathing, and that I don’t have enough oxygen in my bloodstream to support huge amounts of movement. I will sit at the computer playing solitaire, rather than climb back into bed with a cat and a book.
I remember, 30 years agao, when I had a cold and a cough. I kept going to work, swigging Robitussin from the bottle, taking antihistamines and decongestants, but going to work every day. After a few weeks, the cough wasn’t getting better. Only when I was hacking my lungs out, and suddenly felt like someone had clamped an iron band around my chest, did I go to the doctor. Said doctor gave one listen, and diagnosed pneumonia without even needing a chest x-ray. That ended me flat on my back with high doses of antibiotics, codeine and alcohol based cough medicine, and a variety of other things. I remember the cough medicine. 1 teaspoon and I had 15 minutes to find a horizontal position before I was asleep for 4 hours. Which was, by the way, the doctor’s intent.
So, this unwillingness to take to my bed unless I’m on death’s door is not a new phenomenon.
Does anyone else experience this? Does anyone else think they’re being a baby or a wimp if they actually rest out a cold, virus, etc. What about bronchitis?
Please leave me your comments and insights in the comments area.