I've not posted in a good while, partly because I moved house and was all into enjoying my new stomping ground out in the sticks. Amazingly, it has been good for my asthma as well - my PFs slowly started to increase from a best ever of 420, to regularly hitting 480 this summer. I still found though, that my asthma would kick off a bit on exertion, so I kept telling myself to be patient; that it will slowly keep on improving until I can stroll back out into the hills again without ending up in a wheezy heap.
Quite annoyingly, my petulant lungs have decided that I was obviously getting far too comfortable with them, and that it was time to remind me who is boss. For the past 3 weeks, my hayfever has been really bad (hence my change of nickname to Great Green Arkleseizure - I could swear I really did sneeze the universe out of my nose at one point). Then last week, my chest simply felt heavy and tight, like the phlegm was just sitting there and would not move. No amount of coughing seems to really shift it. I spent all weekend hacking loudly (which annoying neighbours are whinging about. Tough! Wanna swap with me?).
Anyway, I finally crawled into the GP surgery this morning after a weekend of hardly any sleep from the coughing. He's given me antibiotics ""in case it gets infected"". Huh? I'd rather shift the stuff off my lungs and stop it getting any worse. But according to him, I was not all that wheezy, so he would not prescribe any pred. It makes no sense, unless I just don't get it.
This time last year, I had a chest infection which triggered a horrendous time asthma-wise. I'd rather not end up back on the ward, but I must admit, it feels like it's happening all over again exactly a year later
So here I am, sleep deprived, grumpy, and hoping to get some stuff off my chest (even if it's not the claggy stuff).