Doctor! Doctor!

Well…good news…I am not dying.

After many tests and x-rays at the clinic this morning it turns out that my bronchial tubes are just really messed up. It’s not bronchitis or anything like that but more like an asthma type of problem. I have no clue what caused it. I should have asked, but I forgot to. I was just happy as a clam to hear I wasn’t about to knock on death’s door. Whew…close call this time. Although, I should be used to it by now. I live on the edge. I dance with danger. I swim in the sea of peril.

So now I am on an inhaler and some other pills. I’m starting to feel like a junkie with all the medications I’ve been on. I think Whitney Houston’s fall from grace started off with a cough too. Pretty sure it did.

The worst part of today’s ordeal was sneaking a peek at x-rays while the lab technician was reviewing them. If you don’t know how to read an x-ray you shouldn’t even look at it until you are sitting next to the doctor. Is it good for it to be black or is it good for it to be white? What are those huge gray areas? Is it supposed to look like that? Is that a tumor? Is that my undeveloped twin? What is that blurry patch area over there? It’s a massive snowballing paranoia when you are sick and fearing the worst and looking at an x-ray. I wish I had never stuck my head out of the room to spy on her. I was filled with anxiety once I saw the x-ray. Ugh.

But…it is done. Let the healing begin. Can I get a witness?

Today’s lesson: Let the medical professionals do their job first. Don’t peek.