As I approach my fiftieth orbit around the Sun and deal with the inevitable allergies most Austin residents acquire, I pushed for more aggressive treatment, especially over my need to cough about every ten minutes. I finally received some steroids which the doctor said weakens your immune system, I always thought it amplified things, oh well, he was the person with the medical degree. This made some headway but when it ran out, I needed a doctor for a refill, went for it. The other doctor decided to make me do an exhale test, three attempts. As I watched the computer tally up the result I saw it wasn’t going to be good, namely when it labeled my lungs as 60 years old. Ergo, the immediate diagnosis is that I have mild asthma. I believe it runs on my dad’s sides yet all the relatives who suffered through it were smokers, one of the last things you should be doing if you have trouble breathing. Me? I managed to be the only member of my immediate family who was never a smoker at any point in time; it was saddening to see Brian take it up while he was in high school, thankfully he finally shook the habit before he turned 30.
Digression, sorry.
Rather a bummer. The doctor says there’s a glimmer of hope. Remember, the diagnosis is mild, not permanent. I may be able to improve my situation with exercise and wiser living. What the latter may be? No clue. It’s not like I can get Austin to clean up its air quality. Thanks to Climate Change (which is real), we probably have way more Ozone Days than when I was a bus passenger.
I’ll be OK. I just now know why I sometimes have a coughing fit after strenuous exercise.