Use as directed...

The prescription said, plain as day, “See your doctor if symptoms persist.”

It did not say, “Sisiggy: See your doctor if symptoms persist.” So, obviously, it didn’t apply to me.

And that’s how I ended up in the emergency room one fine Saturday evening, gasping for air and watching my bill tally up as the nurse injected more and more drugs into my IV. Cha-jing!

You see, I didn’t want to be A Sick Person. A Sick Person takes tons of pills and gears their lives around illness. I was quite sure that if I saw my doctor I’d be reclassified as A Sick Person and would start carrying bags of medication around and talking ad nauseum about my symptoms.

As penance, I spent the next few weeks on some heavy duty asthma artillery and endured the accompanying side effects. Yet only a single pill was added to the medication I was taking before. One single pill, once a day. That’s all.

Then one day it occurred to me that I hadn’t had an asthma attack in several days. In fact, I was sleeping all night without having to wake up two to three times to use a rescue inhaler. My mind was clearer and I had more energy.

“That’s what happens when your brain gets sufficient oxygen,” Dirtman said, still patting himself on the back for having given this advice long ago.

Suddenly, I was able to go places I hadn’t before with only minor problems easily remedied with one inhaler spritz. I could speak to people who were smokers. I really wasn’t A Sick Person!

So today I put this new-found health to the test. I got on the treadmill.

Awhile ago, I had gotten into the habit of doing two miles on the treadmill, along with some weight training. But I began feeling worse and worse after every workout. Then one day it threw me into an asthma attack that required overdosing on the rescue inhaler. I decided that people with asthma weren’t supposed to exercise like that (not Sick People, mind you; people with asthma.)

That was almost two years ago.

Yeah. You heard me right. Symptoms persisted for close to two years and I did not see my doctor. (Actually, I did…I just didn’t reveal that particular part of my history because, you see, I’m not A Sick Person.)

Anyway, I did and, in the spirit of all this activity, I decided to do a little research on the newest findings about the amount of exercise needed, secretly hoping that a new all-encompassing study has found that exercising more than five minutes actually packs on the pounds.

Alas, no.

However, I found a few articles that mentioned that weight training is more important for women over 40 than a cardio workout. I don’t get this. Isn’t it enough that I’m carrying me around all day? Don’t I get credit for moving my Oompah Loompah legs up and down the stairs? Isn’t that the equivalent of having weights on your ankles?

I could find no study to back up my claim, so it’s back to the free weights for me.

Oh. I hate every minute of it. I hated every minute of it two years ago and I still hate every minute of it. I keep waiting for the “high” you’re supposed to get, but my brother, a runner, says that usually doesn’t happen until after you throw up. To me throwing up is a bad thing. I think I’ll forego the “high.”

So now I’m once again A Person Who Exercises and not A Sick Person. Unfortunately, I’m also A Person Who Loves Starbucks Coffee Ice Cream.

The adventure continues.