“Remoted” – Workday 92 /Day 126 (Monday)

The weather map
looks like lava.

According to the weather folks, the Lowell high temperature was 96 today and we are officially in a heat wave. The past three days of high temperatures and humidity compelled me to turn the A/C on Friday and leave it on. I’m not getting soft, it was mostly for the dogs. I worry when they seem too warm and pant a lot. This means it’s been 78 degrees inside and the dogs have been comfortably lounging and napping. This also means that I’ve had to rummage for a sweater and socks at least once each day. The things I do for the Canine Overlords.

I also win in this arrangement. The A/C helps me breathe when it’s humid, even if it means I’m also wearing a sweater when it’s 95 outside. Every year for much of my adult life, during allergy season and high humidity, I have trouble breathing. This results in an unfortunate amount of yawning which seems to force my chest to expand enough to inhale. During the time between the yawns, my rib cage just doesn’t seem able to expand enough to let in the air. It’s like wearing a too tight corset, but on the inside. This made my 12 summers living in the South a bit tougher than they probably needed to be, but thankfully, everything was air conditioned which seems to help.

When I first arrived in Tennessee, freshly married to a freshly-retired soldier and a new member of the Tricare military health system, I had a breathing test done at the military hospital. There was deep inhaling then blowing into a tube to blow out the digital candles on the digital cake on the test screen. I blew out 7 of 10. An asthma inhaler was administered and a few minutes later the test was repeated, and again the result was 7 candles. The lab tech, stating the obvious, declared that the inhaler made no difference.

Why I run the A/C.

A few days later, someone from the doctor’s office called with the official results of my test. My now-ex husband answered the phone and for some reason, the caller gave him the result of my test. Why they did not ask to speak to me as the actual patient, and why he did not just hand me the phone are unanswered questions to this day. This meant my diagnosis was filtered through him, and the message relayed to me was basically, “it’s reduced elasticity in the lungs, not much can be done, good luck and have a nice life.” Perhaps the best part was, when I mentioned the test at later appointments there was no record of the pulmonary test in my file. Maybe they should have checked my husband’s file.

So, if you see me in the summer and I’m constantly yawning, don’t get paranoid or judgey. Chances are I’m probably not tired or bored by you. Depending upon the weather, I might just be trying to inhale.