(Subtitled: In which it is revealed that the author's alter-ego is a 12-year-old boy)
(Content Advisory: May contain Too Much Information)
So I have finally accomplished the near impossible, and - thanks to a knitter! - found myself a Real Doctor. One who is at a Real Clinic, not a walk-in; who is taking new patients; and who works in my neighbourhood. Even better, it's a woman, and she actually listens to what I say, and explains things, and answers my questions without condescension. Rock on!
So I went for my physical last month (whee!) (not) and while I was there, I asked her about this persistent little cough I've had for aeons. And she agreed to help me pinpoint the cause. Yay! Coz it's really a pain in the butt. It's not in any way related to a cold or flu or other respiratory illness; there are no indications at all that it could be asthma or something similar. I've had x-rays done, and there are no signs at all of anything odd in my lungs - no scar tissue or tumours or tadpoles...It's quite the mystery. I'm not worried about it at all, mostly just curious and a teensy bit annoyed. Since laughing too hard can set me off, and in the current hamthrax climate, coughing in public could easily lead to being lynched.
The doctor thinks the most likely culprits are either allergies (which I think is probably the case) or acid reflux. Since acid reflux is easier to rule out, she's decided we should try that one first. Pretty painless - just take a pill every morning for 2 weeks and see if it makes a difference. She sent me off with some free samples (I love being Canadian!) and told me to come back in 2 weeks.
So, I have been diligently waking up with Mr.Q every morning, taking one teeny pill, and going back to sleep (it has to be on an empty stomach, and there's no way I can wait a half-hour for coffee once I'm out of bed!) And you know what? It has made a difference. A big one.
Only, not for the cough. There have been some interesting side effects that were not listed on the insert along with the blindness and hairy palms...(or wait - were those for the other thing?) It seems I have developed chronic - nay, perpetual - gas. If I were a dog, I'd have to change my name to Walter. Fortunately, unlike Walter, my bark is worse than my bite...Unfortunately, it's the opposite of the dreaded "silent-but-deadly" phenomenon. Not stinky at all, but loud like an out-of-tune trombone. And it's really embarrassing. (Though not so much that I won't put it out on the innernets for all the world to read...)
It's also really, reall funny when it startles Mr.Q and all 3 of the cats awake. And I think it may open up a whole new chapter in musical expression.