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Once again, I’ve spent the weekend reliving the Chongqing pneumonia. Everyone in the family got the cold. Some got it with a sore throat. Others got a bit of a fever. And some (the smallest and mightiest among us) seem only to have gotten a bit of a blocked up nose.
Me, though — once again, straight to the lungs. (OK, the bronchial tubes, but still….) Rales. Wheezing. Fatigue. Fever. General unpleasantness.
I don’t even bother talking to a doctor any more. I can’t help but wonder, though, if there’s some strange pocket in my lungs that’s holding a little bit of Chongqing in there. Some dust, maybe. Something that waits for the first sign of a cough to spring back to life and attempt to take over my respiratory system.
And today, before I left for work (having more or less recovered), Daughter was feeling hot and complaining that her throat hurts.
I hope she doesn’t go the same way I did. It was one of the first things we went through together….
