Tag Archives: smoking

I’m lump, I’m lump, I might be dead

My evil ex used to say that the Presidents of the USA song “Lump” was written about me. I hate that band so much as a result. And then my ex-wife used to make me listen to them, because she was a fan and said I needed to get over it. Ugh. 

But anyway. 

I have a confession to make. I have done pretty much nothing today. Sleeping lots, mostly. I just attempted to go Out and realized that if I did I’d stop for cigarettes. Because I can’t go to the coffee shop alone and not smoke. So I turned my car back around. At least I took out the trash while I was leaving the house. So I can say I accomplished something today. 

I do have plans in a bit — my psychiatrist, and then a knitting group I’ve been trying to talk myself into going to for like a year now. Even though it’s people I used to knit with all the time. I’m making myself go today, though. Even if I can only stay 20 minutes at least I’ll have tried. 

(I feel bad for my sweetheart, who is very social and can’t take me anywhere because groups of people make me so uncomfortable. The only friend of hers I’ve gotten to spend quiet time talking with, just the three of us, is awesome.  I warmed up to him pretty quickly and now count him as a friend. But if I’d met him at a party I would have never struck up a conversation. Social anxiety sucks donkey balls.)

Did I mention I’m depressed today, too? Not the kind where I want to hurt myself. Just the kind where I wanna disappear into Fantasyland or else sleep for the next year. Much healthier. It occurs to me that my psychiatrist might be pissed at me for quitting smoking during a med change. If she tells me not to quit for another few weeks, I’m going to do as she says. Even though I cringe at the thought of spending more money on smokes. 

Ugh. Going back to bed until it’s time to leave for the doctor. Can’t function…

Yep, still sick.

I finally went to the doctor today, because inhaling still fucking hurts.  Good thing I went — I have a pretty bad case of bronchitis.  The X-ray was gross: the bottom third of my left lung is full of gunk.  They tested me for a couple of other possibilities before the X-ray, flu and strep, and those were negative.

When I was a kid I got bronchitis at least once a year like clockwork.  And then at 13 I started smoking.  Sigh.  There was a boy I had a crush on.  He smoked cloves, so I took them up too.  I still remember Corey, the kid who punched me in the face in seventh grade but got nicer over the summer, teaching me to inhale on the back of the deserted elementary school playground.  Unfiltered Djarums proved to me too much for my tender lungs, so I switched to Marlboro reds.  I smoked until just after my 32nd birthday.  Nineteen years, most of which were spent smoking 2+ packs a day.  I quit cold-turkey because an ex-boyfriend who smoked (who was much older than me) died of pulmonary fibrosis.  I didn’t want to go out the same way.  That was over six years ago.  Quitting was the second smartest thing I’ve ever done.  (First smartest was marrying the Valkyrie!)

Anyway, today the doctor gave me an inhaler and some antibiotics.  The inhaler helps, although I can only do it every six hours.  I would really like it right now because breathing hurts more again.  But I can’t use it until 10:45.  Argh.

After I finished at the doctor’s I had to drive an hour south to my psychiatrist appointment.  So I was out of the house for seven hours, which is a lot when I’m sick.  I’m so worn out physically, but I don’t want to sleep yet.  Maybe I’ll spin or something.