The night I almost died (maybe)
For months now, I've had the sneaking suspicion that I've had asthma and that it was getting worse (I'm thinking I've had it for years, but wrote it off). Starting around September 9th, I was mixing an intense cough (think coughing fits so bad I'd get headaches) with occassional points where it felt like I just couldn't get enough air.

I knew I needed to see the Doctor, but due to my job switch, I don't have health insurance, and I don't have a lot of extra money floating around either. Finally, on Friday, between pressure from my boss and C, I made an appointment for Monday.

Unfortunately, between Friday and Saturday, I spiraled into a far worse position. By late-afternoon on Saturday, I could barely breath. I was trying to convince C that I could wait until the Doctor's appointment, while she was trying to convince me Urgent Care was necessary. It's hard to argue effectively when you can only say a word at a time, and can only walk a few feet without leaning on things because you're having trouble breathing. After an aborted co-crossworld puzzle attempt, C won out, and we headed for Urgent Care.

C assures me that Urgent Care is not the same as an Emergency Room, and considering how fast I first got to see someone, I think that just might be true (possibly). When the Doctor came into to treat me, he noticed I was having so much trouble talking that they just started me on treatment immediately. They had to do two nebulizer treatments total until they were comfortable enough with my condition to let me leave.

After the first treatment, the Doctor softly berate me for taking so long to come in, assuring me he has seen people die from my condition. I'm not sure how close I came. There's a good chance that I could have made it until Monday, and then again, maybe I wouldn't have. It's fun to think that, ala Royal Tennenbaums, I'm now forever in C's debt.

I'm still going into the Doctor on Monday, but now I have a nifty neato new inhaler to use. When I go to see John Hodgman, I'm planning on either having him sign it, or else ask what I should whittle it into.