pleurisy. i've got it. my lungs ache, my heart aches, it hurts to laugh, to breathe, to move quickly. the first night i knew something was wrong wrong wrong i thought i was going to die. sure i've said that before, but i had never really believed it. my heart hurt and i was dizzy, hot; thought i was having a heart attack. i was at my boyfriend's rock show in an overheated, smoky bar and i leaned over and felt like i had been kicked in the chest. with a pointy-toed boot. with a fork on the end. i insisted that my friend eddy take me home and moaned the whole way, feeling my swollen potato heart causing me agony with every breath. no, not a potato. more like a sausage in the microwave on high. you know what happens then. it bursts. chris and eddy assured me that i wasn't going to die, but i knew it was a massive coronary event or a blood clot, and sure enough, the next day when i called the advice nurse she looked at the long list of medications i take and said, "Yes, it's possibly a blood clot." and "It's incredibly difficult to diagnose heart problems over the phone. You should come in to the Urgent Care Center as soon as possible."

and so chris and i drove there in silence and checked in. then we waited. and waited. after two hours i was finally allowed to see the triage nurse. she apparently didn't think i was going to die either, though i begged to differ with her, and we waited some more. the turnover in the e.r. waiting room was complete. i had visions of my possible blood clot reaching my heart, introducing itself, and then killing me in an impressive display of gore right there in the uncomfortable chair. i imagined my eyes popping out and blood spilling out of my ears, my heart simmering in an unfortunate nurse's hand as she chased it around the floor slippery with my blood and vomit.

after three hours, i got sent back to a smaller room to wait (half naked) for a doctor to eventually come and see me. when he arrived, he was small and furry, like a marmoset. but friendly. he ordered a breathing treatment right away for my asthma, which i definitely did not want, because i could breathe fine, i thought anyway, and all that albuterol makes me shake like a strung out junkie. but i dutifully inhaled the adrenaline vapors and swooned from the combination of that and the needle-sickness i get whenever i get blood taken for anything. then a cute lady came cruising in with an ekg machine and told me she would have to "expose me" and asked if it was okay if "that gentleman sees." chris raised an eyebrow and i gave her the go-ahead. so polite. hooked up like a cyborg, punched full of needle holes, and toking on my medicinal bong, i felt myself traveling to la-la land, but chris kept shaking my foot and bringing me back to reality. curses!

ekg=no heart attack
blood tests=no clot
breathing treatment=dizzy but clear-lunged
x-rays=AHA!

so it seemed i had developed a case of pleurisy. what the hell is that? you ask. it sounds like something your grandmother would've put a poultice on, right? yeah, that's what i thought too. pleurisy is an inflammation of the lining of the lungs, usually the result of an underlying infection or virus. having both asthma and pleurisy is like having two evil embryos fighting in your chest to see who can make you feel the shittiest. it's really hard to tell who's winning. the 1800mg of ibuprofin i am taking a day to relieve the inflammation in my lung lining is making me wheezy, which makes me use my inhaler, which makes my chest hurt and my head spin.

and so i feel like i am going to die. i wrote down my final instructions for my sister(i.e.-here's the money for helping with the bills, move my box of vibrators before mom comes in the house, cremate me and sprinkle me someplace pretty) and it depressed me. i really have so little. my sister read the list and looked at me over a plate of eggs and bacon. "This is your legacy?" she said, and i knew what she meant. So sad. So wheezy.