E Pluribus Unum

I'm serious.

I'm going to bed. I promise I'll have more on this tomorrow.

Pneumonia?!

Friday morning update:
All of you men who hate going to the doctor -- pay attention here: my life is a cautionary tale for you.

After two months of "Katrina Cough," and after a nasty bout with a sinus infection in the spring of '05, I've gotten used to visiting the doc when something doesn't feel right. Also, what the hell, I have an OK health plan.

Anyway, I went to the doctor on Thursday morning only after enduring 3 days of severe back pain. My mother's 80th birthday is Sunday and Miss Julie and I were flying up to Michigan for the festivities. But with the way my back felt, no way was I getting on a plane without some serious pain medication.

"How'd you hurt your back?" asked the doc.

"Honestly, I think it's from coughing on and off for 4 months. I finally coughed so much I pulled a muscle in my back. I'll bet you that knocked a vertabrae out of alignment which pinched a nerve."

The doc suggested that the cough -- a dry cough, really -- might be a side-effect of blood pressure medication I'm taking.

"Your chest sounds fine," he says after examining me with the stethoscope. "I'm going to give you some pain meds to help you get through the trip, but I also want to make sure that we check every possibility with that cough. So I'd like you to get a couple of X-rays. If I see anything unusual, I'll call you later. Otherwise, have a nice trip and I'll see you next week."

I crawl to the pharmacy, get the pain meds and then crawl home. I'm napping when Miss Julie comes in with the phone. "It's the doctor. He says you have pneumonia."

Say what?

"The radiologist looked at the X-ray and you have a consolidation on the lower lobe of your right lung. That means you have pneumonia."

Holy crap. But then he told me something worse. "You are not leaving town, my friend. Do NOT get on that plane."

Well, to make a short story even longer, I called my mom and broke the bad news: we wouldn't be with her on her 80th birthday. I don't know who was more disappointed -- her or me. I felt like crying.

Anyway, it's Friday morning and the doc called back after looking at the X-ray for himself. "Don't exert yourself. Stay around the house. Take it easy. I'd like to see you in about ten days for a follow-up."

Back in the day, I guess they used to call this "walking pneumonia." I know this because my mother actually had it herself.

So...guys: if you feel bad -- see the doc, OK? God only knows how long I've had this and how much worse it might have gotten without proper care.

P.S. Later, Miss Julie apologized. "For what?" says I.

"Here I thought you were being a titty-baby," says my beautiful bride, "slouching around, whimpering about your back. But knowing you had pneumonia and knowing all the stuff we did over the holiday break -- riding bikes, going to the park, playing with the boys -- it makes me realize you're as strong as an ox."

Heh.