Imbolc and the Megillah Moon
Tuesday gratefuls: Swedish hospital. Kate. Those who care for her. Her sisters. CBE. Rabbi Jamie. Mortality. Rigel, up and down the stairs to the loft. Kep and Rigel who slept next to me last night. Snow coming, maybe big snow.
Sparks of joy: Vaccine appointment. Dr. Emrie, pulmonologist. Polio.
OK. I didn’t see that coming. I visited a pulmonologist today at the advice of my new PCP Leigh Thompson. She didn’t think my diagnosis of COPD sounded right based on the test results she saw. Boy, was she right.
Either none or very little COPD, said Emrie. Lisa, Dr. Emrie’s nurse, whom I liked a lot, had me inhale through plastic tube connected to meter. Three times. 30. 30. 28. Dr. Emrie said normal negative inspiratory force, which this simple test measures, is 60. Oh.
Polio. He explained that my bout of polio had killed motor neurons on the left side of my body. But, as I recovered, others stepped up to take their place. They get pumped up, beefed up, he said, because they’re doing their own work and the work of those dead neurons. As we age, they get tired. Mine are slowly wimping out.
Probably don’t need the Flovent. Gonna try without it starting tonight.
He did say that living up here absolutely will not work at some point and it would be better for me now to be lower. Kate, too, for that matter. Not sure where we’ll go with that. This is a great time to sell a house, but not so great a time to buy one. For the same reasons, a hot market with little inventory.
Weird, huh? Polio coming back to bite me in the, well, lung.
Kate remains at Swedish and will be there at least another day. Still don’t know what’s going on. Frustrating and maddening.