The Only Person I'm Blowing Is My Peak Flow Meter

I like it when people laugh at my jokes. With medical professionals, it makes me feel like there's hope of a good experience. If you can get my humor, we are probably going to be golden.

So the NP I saw today wanted to know if I've been sleeping around.

She must have heard about the STD clinic and the prostitutes I used to hang with. (You have to read a ways in to find the explanation behind that reference.)

I snorted and said, "The only thing I've been making out with is my peak flow meter trying to see if my lung capacity has come back yet*."

She laughed. "Well, we have to ask. Just to be sure."

"A few weeks ago, I couldn't walk and breathe at the same time let alone participate in an extra-marital roll-in-the-hay. So no, it's just me and my peak flow meter."

Another laugh. Made my day! Although reading it, I'm not sure the humor translates. I was quite dead pan in the delivery.

I got another emphatic lecture about ' you should've gone to the ER.' I get it. Just because I got away with not going this time, doesn't mean that I did the right thing.

I truly thought I was good until I started getting ready to go see the doc today. Then I realized how shaky and lightheaded I was. I did almost go to the ER instead of the doc. Almost but not quite.

Have I mentioned I can be stubborn?

You know, I have now had to go or been instructed to go to the ER on three separate occasions in less than a month. This is a trend I am actively fighting. It's not exactly the life I want to lead.

Fortunately everything worked out this time. We don't know what happened, the blood work won't be back until tomorrow. It's probably PCOS hormonal weirdness.

Welcome to my medical freak show of one.


*Did you know this is like my new hobby? Blowing the peak flow meter? And the hubby is jealous because I blow it better than he does. Heh.

Irony of the Lung

So I'm huffing into the peak flow meter the other night and the hubby comes by. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just checking."

"What is it?"

"550." I show him the meter.

"What should it be?"

"Well this isn't bad, but I'd like to get back to 650 someday.Or higher."

"Can I try?"

"Sure." I wipe the mouthpiece. "Give it a good, hard huff."

"530. That's lame."

"Well, try again."

"500."

"Huh, you're low. And I'm the one with asthma."

"Well everyone knows you're just faking it."

Heh. So then I found the chart above--although I'm not sure if the scale is the same? I can't tell by looking at my meter. Assuming it's all the same...I'm above average. Hubby is below. He's been huffing on the peak flow meter ever since, determined to 'hit' his numbers. It's making him sooooo mad that he can't get it higher. Now he knows how I feel!

It's addictive. Kind of like the carnival game where you see if you can ring the bell with the sledgehammer.

Actually, now that I think about it, a bell on the peak flow meter would be a nice feature.