"You'll catch your death out there!"

Kids, it's been a rough week here at DBB, mostly due to my health, which took a nosedive first thing Sunday, acting like a flu, and just kept devolving. I have asthma and a loooooooong storied history with bronchitis, so I honestly was just trying to butch it all out, while having a 24/7 wracking cough, cold shaking sweats, and the inability to do anything of any use whatever (like my review of the darling A Girl for All Time Amelia, who is here and just wonderful and you'll hear and see  more shortly).

My husband Kevin, who is the hero of this piece, decided this morning that I was going to the doctor whether I wanted to or not, so gently bullied me out the door and to the Urgent Care a few miles away. Meanwhile I'm still swearing I feel better, honestly I do, *KAFF*KAFF*KOFF*KAFF*, I don't want to go, awwwww, c'mon, man!" *KAFF*COFF*KAFF*

They looked at  my pulse/ox, looked worried; listened to my lungs, looked worried; gave me a breathing treatment then a couple of x-rays, looked more worried.

So. Uhm.

I have pneumonia.

They thought about sending me to the hospital, but it looked to be in only one lung, so sent me home cautiously with Godzillacillins and steroids and codeine and many stern expressions. I am to go straight to the ER if I don't feel noticeably better within 24 hours of starting the meds.

So,  what this means is, I nothing very little done, but there is hope. And many drugs.