About ten days ago, I got that feeling that I was coming down with something. You know the drill. Sore throat. Fatigue. Not quite feeling like myself. I just figured I had a cold. After all, it's that time of year.

Three days later, I was completely wiped out. It felt like someone was standing on my chest, like someone was squeezing my lungs. Whenever I took a breath, my chest sounded crackly and made little kitten noises. I was so tired I couldn't keep my eyes open. I had zero appetite (when that happens to me, you know something is really wrong). And did I mention the fever? 102.2, and I'm not talking about an FM radio station.

I've had my share of upper respiratory infections, but this was a real doozy. It felt . . . different.  So last Monday, I went to my local urgent care and got checked out. After doing the intake, checking my vitals, and doing a chest x-ray and blood work, I was diagnosed with viral pneumonia. My parting gifts were a tube of albuterol and 10 days' worth of an older antibiotic I'd never heard of. I was told to rest, drink lots of fluids, and take it easy.

Here I am a week later, and I really don't feel that much better. Sure, the fever's long gone, and my appetite is back with a vengeance. But in the words of a memorable meme of a few years ago:


That's how I feel about pneumonia. I just want it to be gone. Forever.

But until it does, I guess I'll keep coughing and hacking and hoping that I don't crack a rib. Or worse.

Wash those hands and use that sanitizer! If you have to cough or sneeze, do so in a tissue or in your elbow! And most importantly, PLEASE, if you're sick, stay home.

Be well, Y'all.


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