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But that's not today.
I had my second appointment with the pulmonologist to try and figure out why I randomly feel short of breath/air hunger. The final "answer": X-rays show my lungs look great, yay! My breathing tests are normal, yay! Why do I need a rescue inhaler multiple times a week? Who knows! Possibly ME/CFS post-exertion malaise and general fuckery? Oh, probably. Soooooo there's no real solution, except use the inhaler when I need it.
... I guess that means I can stop putting brain power to that, and focus on the various things I'll need to do in order to lessen the risk of breast cancer. Because that'll be fun or something.
Yes, yes, taking care of my stupid mortal shell is vital and necessary, but DAMN is it stressful.
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Honestly, I am just glad you are still alive and not in active danger of keeling over any time soon.
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This, uh, puts my sports injuries into perspective.
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