I woke up this morning feeling even more crappy than I have for the past two weeks. This morning my chest hurts, and it hurts to breathe.
So I decided perhaps I should actually call my doctor now. I mean, it's been more than two weeks that I've been sick, and it's getting worse instead of better. Maybe this isn't just a little flu that's going to go away on it's own.
So I called my doctor's office, and I told them the long story and that now that my chest hurts when I breathe. And the nice lady on the phone asked: "Can you still breathe?"
"Um, yes, but it hurts when I do," I replied.
"Well, unless you start to not be able to breathe, there's nothing I can do for you. If you can't breathe, go to the hospital. Otherwise, just stay home so you don't spread it, and try to get some rest."
What I wanted to say, but didn't was: "WELL DUH!" OF COURSE YOU GO TO THE HOSPITAL IF YOU CAN'T BREATHE! I COULD HAVE FIGURED THAT OUT FOR MYSELF!"
What I really said was: "So, there's nothing you can do? You can't check to make sure it's not pneumonia or something?"
She was wholly unsympathetic. She said that they were getting lots of calls from people whose chests hurt: it was just what was going around.
So, there you have it. If I die of pneumonia, you know who to blame. I CALLED THE DOCTOR.