For anyone following my eight weeks of illness, I spent my Columbus Day afternoon at the VA emergency room getting seen by a CUUUUUUUUTE pulmonary doc who thinks I have an acute case of bronchitis -- NOT. My lungs are perfectly clear, says he, there's no reason I should be this short of breath, as a non-smoking, relatively fit 39 yr old female w/ long red hair who looks just like Sigourney Weaver (and a woman named Carmen who worked a later shift OR ELSE they'd have proved it to me). He says I've had enough antibiotics to cure an elephant and seriously doubted I was actually infected with anything.

So I came home w/ an inhaler, a nasal inhaler, an allergy medicine that I have a greater strength of in the 24 hr over the counter equivalent, and an order to await my pulmonary testing appointment to come in the mail before he tells me I have allergies and nothing else. Or it could be some sort of reflux disease, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, he wasn't wearing a wedding ring, was clearly intelligent, handsome and DAMN I couldn't get his phone number for my single friends to use with abandon.

The inhaler works surprisingly well. I've never used one before, but it does help clear up my chest (you know, that part of me which x-rays prove is CLEAR). The nasal inhaler HURT to use. Not the inhaler itself, but the drug. Wasn't expecting that. I've used this type of inhaler before, but this time if felt like someone set a match aflame in my sinus passage. OW. The allergy med - Claritan - works but not on my congestion. My ears are still clogged. So, the otc version of it works as it has the added decongestant.

Having spent my afernoon undressing in front of strangers, I was decidedly bored undressing in front of mr. zippy last night. Oh, the silver lining of illness.

Today I am listening to Miles Davis' "Images of Spain." It is raining out. A contrast between my moisture-laden body and the arid velocity of the greatest trumpeteer ever.