Hospital Visit

I have asthma.  It isn't a big deal, except when I visit my parents or my sister, who both have cats, or else when I smoke, which I do most of the time--and so I guess it is sort of a big deal.  In any case, I need to have an inhaler near me all of the time.  Hospitals, as so happens, never give prescriptions for two inhalers, however.  And so by necessity there will be times when I am "out of ammo"--where my inhaler will be out of gas . . . or whatever magic mist happens to be inside of it.

Today was one of those days.  Actually, the inhaler went dry last night.  I didn't give it much thought until I felt some tightness in my chest last night.  After a quick search online, I found out that the best alternatives for asthmatics without inhalers is to either drink coffee or Coke or turn on a hot shower and inhale the steam.

It was late, so caffeine was out of the question.  And we live in a desert, so we never have the hot water heater on.  So I went with Option #3: Breathing in and out of my mouth slowly until the attack passes.

I did, and it did.

Today at the mall a new, minor asthma attack hit me.  Just some tightness in the chest, enough to notice and worry about.  I told my girlfriend about it and we headed straight for the hospital.

We got there, and I went straight to the registration desk and said, "I am having trouble breathing."  Which was true.

She quickly said, "Go straight to emergency."  No forms, nothing.  I had never had such a reaction.  Cool, I thought.

At emergency, I used the magic--and true--words: "I am having trouble breathing."

They said, "Come."  They directed me in into the back room, where all the shit goes down.  Two nurses surrounded me.  One put a clamp on my finger and read a computer screen.  The other asked me questions that I don't remember.

Finally, the nurse who had clamped me said, "You are okay.  Your oxygen is at 98 percent."

I had no clue what he meant, but 98 percent for oxygen sounded like I was in A-plus territory.

Almost immediately, they started treating me differently.  They became more relaxed.  I was no longer an emergency.  But they said, "Doctor soon," which sounded good.  Nobody likes to hang out in hospitals.

The nurses turned out to be right.  They showed me in to see a doctor within 2 minutes.

Awesome service!  There's nothing like appearing to be very sick at a hospital.

I thought about it a bit.  I hadn't lied.  They had simply taken the darkest view.  The words "I am having trouble breathing" could mean (a) I have some tightness in my chest and would like a new inhaler or (b) I'm fucking dying, man!

They acted as if I had said, "I'm fucking dying, man!"

So they bring me in to the doctor.  She checks me with a stethoscope and informs me that I am "fine."

Then she seems to relax.

Now, I begin to think that everyone is pegging me as a liar--just some dude who wanted to bypass the lines in order to get a new inhaler ASAP.  Except I hadn't lied; they had simply taken the darkest view.

So as I sat in a chair across from the now-relaxed doctor, a thought struck me.  Why not give them the darkest view?

Why not throw myself onto the floor and start flopping like a fish, all the while holding my breath so that my face would turn red or--hopefully--blue?

That would really fuck their shit up.  Suddenly false-alarm Yakshi is the real deal.

The doctor would rush to the door and call for the nurses--the nurses who had relaxed earlier when they assumed I was full of shit--and all of them would crowd into the room and do their best to resuscitate me.  And I would let them pull me back to life and shake all of their hands and hurry home with my new inhaler.

I wish I had that story for you.  Instead, I waited for the doctor to fill out my prescription, headed to the pharmacy, picked up my puffer, and headed home.

I hope your day was better than mine.