November 14, 2011

• I think I’ve turned a corner.

  A few times in the past 9 days, I wasn’t sure I’d survive this virus, and was even less sure I wanted to.  I had been recovering from a virus (same one?  maybe) before my harrowing adventure ten days ago.  It had gotten to where I could breathe on my own and move around without going all woozy and wobbly.  The morning after that wild drive home on icy roads in blowing snow, I woke feeling poleaxed:  repeatedly and enthusiastically poleaxed by a sadistic crew of indefatigable torturers.  The adrenaline that had sustained me on the trip was gone and my glands couldn’t seem to find the raw materials to produce any more.

  I spent a week in abject physical misery, needing bronchodilators before and after even the slightest activity, including coughing and laughter.  I was too sick to have any emotional affect.  Feeling anything would have taken more energy than I had.  Then, a couple of days ago, I noticed some encouraging signs of recovery:  annoyance, irritation, impatience, and snark.  My dog put his head in my lap and gazed into my eyes with concern as I struggled wheezily to stand, and for an instant I felt like punching him in that big wet black nose.

  A lifetime ago, back when my great-grand-children’s grandmother was in kindergarten, I worked in hospitals, training as a nurse.  One of the interesting facts I learned was that when a patient progresses from silent misery to crabby irritability, it indicates she’s getting better.  I still am unable to do much without sucking on the nebulizer first.  I’ve been grouchy and unpleasant, but I didn’t act on any violent impulses.  I can thank the impaired function for that – it would have taken more energy than I had available.

  Today, I can get a full lungful of air, even though it does trigger a coughing fit each time I try.  If I don’t grab a dose of bronchodilators before I get up and do something, I might have to stop in the middle for it, and must surely load up on them when the exertion is done, but I’m getting more done.  I still have crabby, snarly impulses, but they’re fewer, milder, and laughable.  I try to keep the laughter light, and not trigger asthmatic episodes.  I’m on the mend.

  

  • 1:39 pm
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