Recovery From The Nights Of Coughing

 So after our wedding anniversary passed, and it was night 6 with barely any sleep, I called my doc, Rigoberto, even though the office was closed. When you pay per year, you get to do that. He thought I had a viral bronchitis, and I just needed to tough it out, and so I did -- with honey -- and little sleep. Finally day 8 I had enough, and made an appointment for UHealth Urgent Care in Cutler Bay.

The night before, Drs. Eric and Barry and I made fun of bad medical training hospitals -- top of the list being Larkin Hospital in South Miami, which has used residency programs as a profit center for years, with little quality control. So of course, the doc who say me, though Board Certified in Family Medicine, was, of course, a Larkin grad.

She listened to my lungs -- no pneumonia. But she asked how long I was feeling poorly, and noted she could see it in my eyes. "Nah -- too long -- we're starting you on antibiotics." I realized her advice was probably not evidence based, but I needed SOMETHING. She prescribed Levoquin, which is mighty powerful. She asked if I was a runner.  I pointed to my ample belly and asked if I LOOKED like I ran. She laughed, and said she was asking, because Levoquin had a bad side effect -- caused Achilles Tendon tears, especially in runners over 60. Now, as I told her, I had yet another reason NOT to run.

Walgreens filled the scrip fast, and I took the pills for 5 days. By day 3, I was sleeping normally. I fully realize my recovery could well have been coincidental, and not caused by, the antibiotic. But if I had plague or anthrax lurking, this Levoquin killed it off.

Now I'm thankfully back to normal health -- I walked my usual 3 miles today, and will walk more with our dog sitting client Betsy. So far, my gut biome hasn't seem to have suffered -- another complication of Levoquin. Hopefully that stays ok.

And it occurred to me: I've had a dry January. I simply have NOT felt like taking a sip of alcohol since NYE. I know it's only a third into the month, but we'll see...

Meanwhile, a wise person asked what Wifey and I had done for our 38th. I told her nothing -- I was feeling poorly -- and was it really such a big deal? She reminded me that not too many people stay married for so long -- and so last night, we brought in Med food, and drank our seltzers out of the nice glasses. Wifey lit a candle, and I played Sam Cooke's "You Send Me" on the Sonos -- that was out wedding song. So mission accomplished.

D2 and Jonathan ordered Pura Vida for lunch, and brought Betsy over. They're on their way to yet another wedding at Cheeca Lodge in Islamorada -- and Betsy is with us. Hopefully Sunday D1 and Joey will bring their kids -- Lemon the Spaniel and Little Man and Baby Man, and we'll have an afternoon of "Anfony's" as Little Man calls it and maybe even a few adult beverages. D2 and Jonathan can stop by on their way back from the Keys -- to fetch Betsy enjoy with us.

But the week of feeling poorly was instructive -- when you feel bad -- ain't nothing much fun. I realize how minor was my ailment, compared to what friends have suffered with far worse diseases and conditions. But it reinforced you MUST celebrate the milestones when you feel up to it.

Next up for us is D2's 33rd birthday. She was born "the Day the Music Died," but since D1 and Joey will be in Panama for a wedding then, we'll hopefully celebrate the following Friday. D2's birthday is the last event on our annual holiday season, which begins with T Day and D1's birthday.

I WILL toast the Big Man that night -- giving thanks for the manifold blessings. And also for the hope that the rest of 2025 turns out more pleasant than the first week of it!