In two weeks I felt better but never actually got WELL. I got used to the cough and when it got bad I would drink 'Tussin' like grape juice and somehow limped by.
Summer came, Tim was still out of work but by then I considered my cough one of my trademarks. It let the kids know when I was home and seemed to become my alarm clock.
Strep reared it's head in our house early this year and after Massey got sick, then Zach and finally Tim...I took my cough downstairs to the couch in the den and just coughed myself silly every night until I fell asleep.
Thanksgiving week I began to realize that I wasn't getting better but steadily worse. The cough I had gotten used to but the chills and fever finally got the best of me.
I fell into couch/bed last Saturday night only to wake up gasping for breath. It was truly frightening. I couldn't catch my breath and dragged myself into the kitchen to boil a pot of water to put on a stool by the couch to inhale the steam vapors hoping it would clear my lungs. It worked semi well. It got me well enough to go to the computer and find my will and instructions for my funeralpalooza and pin them to an icon on my desktop. My instructions were clear (unlike my breathing.)
My brother would emcee my funeralpalooza with my sister as his sidekick...only one minister (of my choosing) and no one was to sing...unless my nephew Casey agreed to sing "Imagine" by John Lennon.
I made many deals with God that night and was too frightened to go to sleep, thinking that I would be unable to take a breath in my sleep...I was struggling to breathe while awake and couldn't imagine being able to inhale and exhale in my sleep.
I spent two nights making deals and re heating pots of water to sink my face into.
I stumbled into work early the next morning and fell asleep on a bench in the back of the restaurant trying to gather my strength to work another shift, when the owner's wife came back and told me I looked like %$#@ and to go to the doctor.
She knows we are broke and told me to go to the doctor and if I needed money for prescriptions or co pay she would be glad to help.
I went across the street to a "Doc in the Box" that had just opened. A fellow server had told me about it and said it only cost $35. I dragged myself across the street to the place. It was spankin' brand new...the Sheetrock wasn't even finished and their were no pictures on the wall...heck there weren't even registers covering the heating and air ducts...but as long as there was a doctor there I felt lucky to be able to walk in on my own.
Turns out the co pay was $50. I had to pay the last two dollars in quarters to the smiling 20 something year old girl behind the semi built counter. As I counted out my eight quarters (that I had to go out and scrounge out of my car, trunk and floor mats) I remarked to her "This is pretty sad isn't it?" She brightly said "NO." I quickly corrected her and said "Yes it is if you are a fifty year old woman."
I signed in and was finally led to a room. As I was leaving the waiting room a Hawapanese looking man came in hacking his crap all around the room . He never tried to cover his mouth or contain himself to one corner. He walked around spreading his germs and by the time I had bundled myself up in my winter coat on the exam table in my cubicle could still hear him walking and hacking and without registers on the vents could hear the guy in the next cubicle hacking away as well.
I was just glad to be waiting for a doctor...by this point I wasn't looking for Marcus Welby, just hoping for someone with a prescription pad.
I was asleep all comfy in my coat when Doogie Howser finally came in. He was actually really a nice guy and asked "So how long have you been sick?"
I replied it had been a while. He asked if it had been a few days. I said "A bit longer." He said "A week" and I replied "Let's talk months...MANY months."
I told him right off the bat that whatever I had needed to be a $50 illness. I kinda briefed him on my situation and once he seemed conducive to being a listener, I used my fifty bucks to the hilt. I broke down into tears unloaded my soul and gave him the short version of how much my life has sucked and how desperate I was to get well.
He gave me 4 prescriptions....all on the Poor man's Plan and told me if I wasn't feeling better in two days to come back.
I had acute Bronchitis, a sinus infection and double ear infection. My prescriptions cost $4 a piece.
So I got to unload on an actual doctor...maybe he wasn't a therapist but I went ahead and used him as one...we even talked about the mortgage crisis I am going through and he sat right there and listened. Actually he is not only my new PCP my but new best friend.
I am on a steroid, an antibiotic, a cough suppressant and a de congestant that makes me whacky as crap but as long as it helps me get well...it is the best $48 dollar and eight quarters I have ever spent.
It has also made me realize that I need to firm up my Funeralpalooza plans.
I have been given a reprieve...Massey asked me why I didn't wake her up when I couldn't breathe the other night when I felt like callling 911. I told her I figured I would let the sirens from the ambulance wake her up.
Once again I am one of the lucky ones. Thanks to "Doogie" and thanks to my employers for making me go get well...I can take more time with my "KellyPaloozaLooza " Plans.
Trust me...when I DO finally go...it will be something NO ONE will WANT to miss. What's a funeralpalooza without a keg of beer?
Til next time...Recuperatin' COTTON
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