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I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for getting aggravated with you every time you are trying to choke up a hairball.  See, the last few days I’ve been hit with an upper respiratory infection that has rendered me helpless against the cough spasms I go through just trying to breathe.  If I lie flat, I am wracked with coughing that makes my eyes water and brings me to the verge of puking.  In the medical world, we call that posttussive emitus. In English, that means you cough til you puke. 

And it isn’t fun.

So, yeah, I feel ya, kitty cat. 

Do your ribs hurt as much as mine do?  Does coughing up a hairball hurt as much as coughing up this stuff that has taken residence in my lungs?  When you are trying to rid your body of that hairball, does it feel like someone has punched you in the ribs and broken maybe one or two or ten of your tiny cat ribs? 

Because, I’m telling you…whatever this tuberculosis is, it has made me cough to the extent that I feel like every. single. one. of my ribs feels like they are broken, so that every. single. time. I cough, I feel like my very rib cage is going to just explode, or deteriorte into ragged shards inside of my disease-ridden body.

So, yeah, if this is what you feel like, and it is certainly what you look like when you are trying to expel whatever crap you got in there, then I am never going to fuss at you to get out of the room to do it again.  I know now that when this kind of coughing spasm comes on ya, then you cough it up wherever you are. 

Last night, I’m proud to say, I coughed so hard that…um…”fluid” came out…partially due to the fact that I’ve squeezed four babies out of my body, but mostly due to the fact that the sheer force of this coughing just begs the fact that either “fluid” is going to come out…or a lung.  All things considered, I guess I’ll take the “fluid.” 

Who Loves being 44? 

Yeah, that’s me.

Love,

Chris

Okay…now to the back story.

Here’s what is sort of funny.  For the past 21 thousand months, I have had this aggravating, cranky hacking hack.  While most of me thought it was due to my daily heartburn, the other 75 percent of my brain was sure it was esophageal cancer.  Finally, last weekend, thanks to what I type every day, I decided I would at least try to get some anti-reflux medicine to see if it would help.  I bought some Zantac on Saturday and immediately that hacky, acid-reflux hack went away.  I was able to sit through a wedding without that annoying cough cough. 

Unfortunately, by the end of the night, that annoying cough cough was quickly being replaced with a more annoying COUGH COUGH.  I’m hugely excited to see what I feel like when the COUGH COUGH goes away and the Zantac has made the cough cough go away. 

It’s only a little bit ridiculous that it took so many months of my hacking for me to think perhaps trying an anti-reflux medicine might be a good idea. 

I’m smarter than that.  I type this stuff every day, all the day long.  I’ve self-diagnosed stuff much worse than stupid acid reflux. 

So, yeah, here’s hoping that when I kick this tuberculosis/flu/the plague, the Zantac keeps working and I finally get to stop with the hack-hacking, annoying cough I’ve walked around with for weeks, nay months.

More than that, I just hope that maybe, thanks to the Zantac, the Mucinex and generic HEB ‘tylenol cold,’ this crap just goes away.  My ribs hope so.  My throat hopes so.  My husband hopes so, since he has deemed sleeping with me the last few nights like sleeping with a woodpecker.

If the woodpecker was trying to hack up a lung.

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