I thought I could muster through and beat the creeping crud that came to rest in my system sometime last week.
I got lots of sleep, drank plenty of fluids, took a decongestant and the stuff that’s supposed to thin out the mucus in your system.
I thought I was on the road to recovery.
I coughed so hard that I almost lost my breakfast. This particular coughing spell started just as I made a phone call for work, and I had to tell the person on the other end that I’d have to call him back. Then I proceeded to cough for 10 minutes straight.
When I start to cough like that, I know that I’m losing the battle, the germs are winning.
So I picked up the phone and called the clinic. Luckily I was able to get in quite quickly.
I expected the doc to listen to my lungs, write something on his prescription pad and send me out the door to the pharmacy. But that’s not what happened.
Instead, he sent me for blood work and a chest X-ray. I was a bit baffled, but I guess he heard something in my lungs he didn’t like.
I expected a diagnosis of bronchitis — that would be par for the course. But instead he told me I had pneumonia.
Huh. I’d forgotten what pneumonia felt like. I had it several times as a kid. No wonder my lungs hurt.
I’m hopeful the antibiotics he prescribed will do the trick and clear up my lungs. It’s just a matter of time, and I’m not the most patient person.