… smoking, drinking coffee, and using my wonderful new vicodin-based cough syrup.
I was diagnosed with pneumonia last week, and let me tell you, even if I hadn’t already planned for the little pack of nicotine-laced stress-relievers that were in my car to have been my last, when I tried a week ago Saturday night to inhale and felt every coughed-raw inch of my lungs and throat cry out in agony would have made it darned easy to stop. For what it’s worth, I don’t consider myself a smoker, I consider myself someone who smokes when stressed out. It’s just been a stressful few months.
Then there’s the coffee. My ENT doc told me a while back that I needed to drop caffeine from my diet as yet another thing that might be affecting the polyp on my vocal cord. So I’ve been tapering off. Since I was going to be home sick for a few days last week, I figured that was the ideal time to taper on down to zero, since I wouldn’t have to worry about getting snippy with patrons and co-workers. So I haven’t had any coffee since middle of last week.
And last night, I decided to try to get through the night without the aid of my new best friend, vicodin-based cough syrup. I was prescribed this to ensure that I could sleep through the night without waking up coughing, but I noticed night before last that (a) I wasn’t sleeping through the night and (b) I wasn’t coughing at night, so I began to worry that my body was starting to tell me “Hey, how about a little more of that stuff?” and getting hooked on vicodin is way, way, way down my list of things I want to do before I’m 40. (It’s 4 spots below “host a rimjob party for the New York Yankees,” so trust me, it’s way down there.)
Anyway, I’m bushed.