catchmyfancy: (foxtrot.uniform.charlie.kilo) a pair of leaky bellows; or a ball sort of nearish a hand holding a pin, which, having pricked, now moves on to be a prick elsewhere as air leaks slowly and inexorably from WHERE IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE.

And that little flight o' fancy should tell you I am so very, worribly (that's my portmanteau word for "worriedly horribly") asthmatic right now.   Any kind of anxiety has my airways starting emergency shutdown; I can't walk and talk at the same time; there's been a bout or six of the most wretched dry coughing; and it's 9.45pm and I am about to go and burrow into my bed and sleep the bad sleep of the slightly blue-tinged (non-pictish). 

Still, breathless is as breathless does; and, as ever, hitting the gym (in a somewhat soggy manner until the endorphins kicked in; then in a giggly, somewhat soggy manner) helped to stabilise things for a couple of hours. 

I'll go again tomorrow.  And all the days thereafter till I start slowly getting back up the hill back towards more my usual self.
catchmyfancy: (unstable)
On the one hand, now I know why I had some trouble in the lieder the other night and why I have this sudden unseemly obsession with sleep: the asthma has risen up and bitten me on the arse once more.  On the other: bloody asthma.  Pout pout.

The usual reasons: tired, not sleeping as well as I could, being a little under par, working hard, a cold snap - and whammo. 

So I decided to take today off and just be quiet and warm (as well as pale and wan) at home.  I've got some time up my sleeve: since I was diagnosed with asthma at the age of two, this is the sixth or seventh day I have had off from school or work.  Plus, you know, about 40 days of sick leave just sitting there.

My plan was going really well until, in a fit of something-or-other, I decided to get up on the seat on the verandah and take down some towels I had hanging up on my new undercover clothes line. 

And FELL OVER AGAIN as I was getting down (the last time was in Swanston St - went down like a sack of spuds next to Bradman's bags the day before I was due to go to Warrnambool).

This time, my right knee took the impact.  Sadly, so did my left shoulder.  AGAIN. (I think because I had the towels and pegs in my right hand).  Not quite as nasty, falling onto a sprung wood platform as onto concrete, but I actually felt the muscles in my shoulder re-wrench themselves. 

Mike the Personal Trainer is going to look at me and just shake his head. And I was healing up so nicely too, dangnabbit!  I am doomed to extra Cardio forever while I wait for my shoulder to heal so I can do weights properly again.  Pout pout POUT.

On the third hand, if this is the sacrifice the Singer Gods require so I can do well again at Ringwood: well, it's nothing codeine and ice packs and time can't fix eventually - right?

It's just. Well, like the subject line says.
catchmyfancy: (contented sun)
I had a beer today at lunch and my asthma got better.

Thought: nah - I just feel more relaxed and don't actually care right now, that's all.

But we here at CatchMyFancy are nothing if not dedicated to researching all the facts, no matter how spurious.  Or indeed, factoid-like.  So tonight at drinkies I had a couple of glasses of the Quite-Scary-Made-By-Some-Guy-My-Boss-Knows red wine and yup: breathing definitely better.  Despite a bouquet which [profile] whooz_queen described (accurately) as "honey....with a steel finish."

So, today in summary:

downsides: Big Blue cost me $590 to get shored up for the next year; Sanjukta (my Grads assistant) had a funny turn, nearly fainted and had to be collected by her family; I got almost no work done due to a campus tour, a lunch and then Sanjukta coming over all unnecessary.

Upsides: I got my ceremony back-pay today, so can afford Big Blue's upgrade; my latest copy of Inspirations has arrived in the mail; it's the weekend and tomorrow I get to go see Elley, and, later, Kindi and Ingrid; and my peak flow is back to just over 400.  Beer good!


Apr. 17th, 2008 06:50 pm
catchmyfancy: (contented sun)
After any big, sustained effort, about a minute after I STOP, my immune system folds like a piece of wet card and I immediately succumb to The Current Lurgy, go down like a sack of spuds, blaze my way through several boxes of tissues and vow that I will start living a clean and sober life and go to bed early and be nice to small children and little kittens if ONLY my nose would stop running.

I finished the March/April ceremonies (which seemed to drag on longer than a Robert Jordan series) and to my surprise my long-dormant asthma came up and bit me on the metaphorical arse.  It's been so long since I had any kind of Asthmatic Episode that it took several days of feeling like crap, always wanting to sleep, wondering why the muscles on my back felt like they were contracting, and then finally fucking up some fairly basic phrases in my singing lesson on Tuesday to realise what the problem was.

I've been wandering around looking pale and wan and just a teensy bit tragic for several days now.  Had to cancel training for this week, cos the gym was out of the question.  I can't do anything to fix it, as steroids are never coming near my throat ever again, so I just have to wait it out.  I'm *this* close to ordering a white frilly nightie, a delicate handkerchief, an embroidered silk shawl (actually I already have one of those) and a chaise longue so I can languish properly.

I'm improving though - me and Melinda walked down from the Uni to Melbourne Central this evening and we didn't exactly stroll.  I was a bit breathless at the end, but nothing to stop me wandering about and ending up in Borders and discovering a new Janet Evanovich book to buy.


catchmyfancy: (Default)

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