Metro to Mountain Journal

When I last wrote, I was sick. My wife had gotten bronchitics and I was absolutely mimicking her symptoms, four days later. Every comment I made about my illness was answered by, "I know that’s exactly the way I felt." My wife had to be a super woman having endured the same symptoms which left me bed ridden. I was just a wimp.

Now, I had not been sick in over thirty years, the only doctors I had seen were for physicals and the only drugs I had taken were over the counter. So I assumed that I just did not remember what it felt like to be sick. The common cold was a bugger.

Finally I had all that I could stand and hoisted the white flag. I had to go to the doctor.

To begin with we went to a pharmacy clinic. After waiting in line for an hour, the PA/RN said you need to go to a doctor.

At the doctor’s office we waited for another hour before seeing the doctor, but he was great. In just a few minutes (and x-rays) he convinced me that I didn’t need a doctor, I needed a hospital. I had pneumonia, severe enough that the doctor insisted on a hospital. Before going to the hospital we stopped by our house to pick up a few things and to eat. I was slow and opted not to eat until later at the hospital but had the veggie hot dog with me.

At the ER we waited for the obligatory hour and finally got into an ER room. I can’t say enough good things about the ER. In moments I was jabbed, poked, x-rayed, scanned, and admitted. My thirty year streak was broke, I was really sick. Then we waited an hour for a room.

With oxygen, IV’s, and antibiotics I tried to rest while trying to cough up a lung. I was not thinking about Metro or Mountain, or any place between, my only concern was for my next breath.

Ho, ho, ho.