I'm not sure how to title this post. It isn't joyful or comical or even remotely happy. I'm never sure whether or not to talk about anything medical or having to do with my health. I always think that people want to read about happy things, funny stories, not how bad someone's health is.
But since this is my blog, my little diary on the web, I wanted to get it put down in black and white. For prosperity.
I had mentioned in an earlier post that I found out I have COPD and emphysema. I had to make an appointment early this morning because I just couldn't breathe. My pulmonologist didn't have any openings until next week, so I just went to my general practitioner.
I don't think until today that it really sank in just how serious my condition is. I couldn't even walk around the office without getting out of breathe and getting shaky. I am pretty sure that my pulmonologist is going to put my on oxygen. I asked my doctor just how bad she thought my COPD was. She told me that it was severe. Meaning I have lots of wheezing even when I use my inhalers, that doing simple tasks are nearly impossible for me, and just how my quality of life is pretty bad because of it.
You know, I never thought I would be talking about quality of life at age 33. Can I just say that I'm scared? That I'm worried about what is in store for me? My family? My children? I'm just scared, worried, not sure what I should do. Never thought I would have my dad, who just turned 67 today, asking me how my health is.
And I feel stupid. Stupid for smoking all those years and having that typical young person attitude. "Oh it will never happen to me!" But it did. Now I am paying the piper. Paying the piper dearly.
I'm probably annoying to our friends who smoke now. I tell them, beg them to please quit. And they do the same thing I probably did, grin sheepishly and say how hard it is to quit.
Is it hard to quit, heck yeah. But it is so much harder to be dealing with this.