I ran out of antibiotic last week after a ten day course for the bronchitis that I had, and I thought I was on the mend, but over the weekend I started to wheeze, then wake up short of breath after a few hours sleep. This morning I woke up abruptly feeling like I was being strangled in my sleep, but my old girlfriends ex-husband was nowhere to be found, and it took my inhaler and decongestant meds and three hours for me to stop being short of breath. I had being going to the local VA with my breathing complaints and they have been giving me Atavan and Clonopin, and telling me that I have a panic/anxiety disorder that causes me to be short of breath. I in turn have been thinking of strangling these assholes, and then handing them an Atavan for the panic disorder, so this morning I decided that I would go to directly to Mecca and confer with the gods of medicine where they live. So I got in my car and drove two hours to the Boston/Harvard VA where all the MDs have PhDs as well. And the exalted ones said that I have a standing case of Asthma with a superinfection of lobar pneumonia, and no wonder I was short of breath and anxious. They admitted me to the West Roxbury VA , started me on Zithromax antibiotic, gave me a nebulizer treatment, started me on IV prednisone, and an albuterol inhaler. And they put me on Oxygen. OMG, do I feel much better. I had been as miserable as a snake with a back ache. Thank goodness I came to Boston. The only downside is all that they have to eat here is baked beans, brown bread, codfish cakes and boiled potatoes(damned Irish). But the medicine is straight from Mt. Olympus and the gods. Boston, where the Cabots only talk to the Lodges, and the Lodges only talk to god. The reports of my death have been premature and Im sure greatly exaggerated by the Republican nemesis.
Posted on: Tue, 07 Oct 2014 04:52:45 +0000
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