Take a Lesson

Finally compelled to go back to the doc the other day. Tried to handle it over the phone, but I guess more than two items is an overload for them. Was about to run out of the inhaled steroid, which you're not supposed to quit without physician's advice, AND the lungs were noisy again AND I could hardly talk sometimes because of the steroid. AND I had finally taken a reading from my peak flow meter, hereafter referred to as pfm. Which is read in litres per minute or lpms. You get the idea. I think that was actually the deal breaker for the person on the phone. "Oh God, he wants me to write down NUMBERS!"

Anyway, the doc was out of town so I saw, and was seen by, the Nurse Practitioner. We capitalize because we don't want to p*ss off the NPAA, Nurse Practitioner's Association of America. No, really, I'm sure there is one. The office was totally dead but I still had to wait 30 minutes and was then shuffled from waiting room to preliminary examining room to waiting room to the RNSTII examining room. (The Real, No Sh*t, This Is It examining room.)

The bottom line is that I had her bargained down to a "drug holiday" from the inhaled steroid, a re-evaluation after 30 days, and a change to a different drug if resuming the steroid turned out to be necessary. Then she said, "OK, let's listen to your lungs." And I said, "What, that thing has a conference button?" And she said, apparently annoyed at my attempt at humor, "Just save your breath and untuck your shirt."

So I did and she listened and then said, "You know what? Deal's off. You can't quit the steroids sounding like that." Take a lesson, A-Rod...