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.
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.
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.”
The adventure continues.