The Return of the King

We spent another happy four hours at Kaiser today working on my malady. Last night I was the Ella Fitzgerald of respiratory distress, one long scat of coughs and wheezes. E., who is proactive and will keep me alive longer than my cheap veneer of macho entitles, called the Kaiser advice nurse at 1 a.m.. Various actions were performed, including leaning over the stove, breathing the steam from boiling salt water and sipping -- 15 minutes; don't hurry -- honey and hot water.

This got me through the night. At 6:15, when Kaiser starts scheduling Sunday appointments, E. called another advice nurse (I think) and bullied her (so it seemed to me) into giving me an appointment today. Oakland was full up, so we drove into SF, to the Kaiser cluster not that far from USF.

I had the nicest little doctor who apologized for reading my medical history from her computer while standing up, for (she said) she was just too short for the stool. She did a variety of things -- including by implication and in the nicest way possible disagreeing with the doctor I saw Wednesday.

So, today: Some tests (results tomorrow), some new medicine, the suggestion I stay home for a couple more days -- unless it turns out that I do have pneumonia in which case Katy, bar the door (and hang a black wreath on it).

But she does not think I have pneumonia. What I have is a textbook case of getting old. I probably have some variety of the flu. It hits you harder when you are older and your immune system weakens.

She was cheerful. She said I was the fifth teacher who had come in today, and her day was only half over. It was like I filled out a epidemiological flush for her. She'd had a preschool teacher, a three public school teachers (grammar and high) and now college level.

She was pleased. After she retires, she thinks she'll volunteer and go to Africa and help the poor, though (she said) there are plenty of people to help here, so maybe she won't have to go that far.