Visit to the Doctors

It all started about three weeks ago:  it was a cold, or maybe seasonal allergies.  No bother, armed with the very best in store-brand-equivalent-OTC medications, I did battle with the ranging sinus pressure, nasal discharge and assorted problems when that kind of stuff runs down hill (make that "down throat").  Man, it took a long time though for the symptoms to abate.  Hell, I still am a tad bit stuffy,

Then of course my new "friend" came to visit, Mr Asthma.

This is the friend who first came last Spring and insisted that I needed to check out the Emergency Room at Moses Taylor Hospital, at 7:30 in the morning.  Gasping like a goldfish out of his bowl, Ms Rivers was kind enough to come over from work and haul my wheezing butt to the hospital.  After an morning enjoying the staff at Moses Taylor and not especially caring what they did to me...as long as I could breathe...I came home to a follow-up visit with my primary care physician and a course of steroids that I was sure would end up making my head look as large as Rosie O'Donnell's.

Fast forward a month or two and I was symptom free.  Until three weeks ago that is.

The latest fiasco took a bizarre turn on Monday night.  Maybe it was the Pop Tarts I had before I want to bed.  Maybe it was the book Inside Scientology I am currently reading.  Maybe it was just stress.  Maybe it was just bad luck, but regardless, I ended up sleeping horribly.  I had all these strange dreams that kept waking me up...gasping for air.  So Tuesday morning I send a note to my primary care physician asking for his advice.  I got that advice in the form of a checkup yesterday:  yes Steve, this Asthma thing is a problem again and let's be really aggressive in treating it.

So starting today I have 3 (cout'em 3) new medications to take.
...One which I apparently may be taking quasi-forever
...Another mega-but-declining dose of steroids
...Another inhaler

All of this begs a few questions.
Q:  Will my neck grow to roid-sized proportions, you know, like certain well known athletes?
Q:  Even worse, will I end up looking like this guy?
Q:  Why, at age 47, why would I even develop Asthma?
Q:  Why even write this post?

I can't really answer the first three questions noted above, but I can answer the last:  because on some visceral level this bugs the hell out of me, and I tend to write about things that bug the hell out of me.  I thought avoiding the whole 90's cigar smoking fad would have paid some dividends.  Apparently not.  Nor has a life of never even trying smoking, not working in an asbestos plant, not mining for coal and generally speaking trying to be healthy.  Nope.  Now in fairness my doctor does have a root cause in mind...it would be this guy...

But as I told my doctor back in April, "the cat stays".

Rant concluded.  Now back to your regularly scheduled blogging nonsense.