"Mr. Simpson, your progress astounds me."

Last night at 4 AM found me huddled in two blankets on the cot of a very cold exam room, awaiting a consultation regarding a chest x-ray. I have been enduring what feels and describes itself as bronchitis for about two weeks. During the day I’m mostly fine, with a cough and fatigue setting in (I hate fatigue because at heart I am a busy little beaver!) but the nights have just been worse and worse. Imagine coughing, coughing, coughing and feeling like your lungs were filling every time you lay down. It’s kind of cute one night but it’s wreaked havoc on me lately.

Well, I came away from the whole hospital trip with a diagnosis I’ve never heard of, a couple drugs I was confused about, and some heavy-duty cough syrup – at least I knew what to do with that. And I don’t have pneumonia, which was starting to be my worry. Lungs look good. I’m still tired from a few consecutive nights of poor sleep. I have a dread of tonight and the rest I may or may not get – lying in bed with everyone asleep, me awake and alone. I swear that’s what sucks most of all.

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