I woke up this morning feeling much like I would imagine an 80yr old 3-pack a day man would feel – hacking what appeared to be chunks of my lungs up everytime I took in more than the most shallow breath. I promptly canceled tonight’s photo shoot as it really didn’t seem to make a lot of sense to go running around a hotel ballroom in a suit snapping pictures and making small talk – all the while coughing up copious amounts of my insides during each conversation.
Dave’s theory (maybe the rest of the world knows it as fact, but I hadn’t proven it for myself yet) of not draining overnight seems to be holding water as while I slept in the recliner things were looking pretty good in the phlegm department. The problem was that I was coughing like mad. The jarring cough was ripping apart my back (see earlier post about my herniated disc – geez, maybe I am getting old) so rather than face a day of walking like an 80yr old lifetime dock worker, I opted for the congestion and slept the rest of the night in my bed.
The back feels good (when I don’t cough) but the throat is knives again. As my mom says, “This too, shall pass.”