I'm just going to say it--if this ends up pneumonia, I have no pride. I want a TV. And lipgloss. The universe and my lungs owe me this. I can't even figure out how it started, to be honest. I testing my breathing weekly and I know three days ago there wasn't any change. Yesterday I woke up with a headache and a cough and sneezing (sneezing is good! Or so they say).
So far, just general ick. I need to find my inhaler. And here it is. Just thinking about steroids again makes my entire body rebel.
...seriously. It's been since September. It's been a year since the last time I had five doctors tell me they didn't know what was wrong with me. I do not like this. I want it to stop. I want a fucking pony.
And that ends self-pity. For now. You who are new--wow, you might want to scan for anything where I mention bodily fluids for a bit and skip. It's deeply boring.
In other news--er. I have a pretty robe to wear this time? That makes it better?
How long does an inhaler last? Is six months old too old? Does my body understand I do not have time for this?