Wheezer

No, this isn't a post about the band.

No, this isn't a post about that character from Steel Magnolias.

No, this is yet another self-centered post. But I'm not a weezer. Nor am I a Ouiser. Turns out I'm just a wheezer.

That Explains It
SO I got my arse to the doc yesterday because I was tired of coughing all the time and taking meds that weren't doing a damn bit of difference. Plus I'd begun to suspect that perhaps I wasn't dealing with just allergies. The symptoms weren't all lining up to point to allergies as the culprit.

And I was right. I have cold weather asthma. I breathe in cold air, my lungs don't like that so much, so they become inflamed and start spasming, causing me to cough. When I try to exercise (y'know, run 8 or 9 miles or, hell, just a mile) when my lungs are in this inflamed state, I make things worse. Joy!

So I got myself a script for an inhaler. Let me tell you, Gentle Reader, within minutes of taking my first two huffs off the thing, I had my voice back and the constriction in my lungs disappeared. Halle-freaking-lujah!

The inhaler didn't take care of the problem totally, and I didn't expect it to. I still am dealing with some allergy stuff, but it's clearing up slowly but surely because, hey, I can breathe again.

I tell ya, Gentle Reader, I cannot wait to get to the treadmill today and be my old self.