So I just had my first Korean doctor experience. After about two weeks of being sick and the last couple of days of having a horrible cough and the worst asthma that I have had in an extremely long time my mother finally convinced me that it was not normal and not to be tolerated and that I should go to the doctor. I was pretty resistant as I feel that in general you will just get better with time and that going to the doctor is really not worth it. I have also spent my life being called a pussy for my breathing issue by my brothers so I have learned to just deal with not being able to breath. Anyway Monday and Tuesday were horrible. When I wasn't at work I would try to sit as still as possible and breath very slowly and very shallowly because the minute I tried to take any kind of real breath I would go into spasms of coughing and weezing which would just require more breath beginning a vicious cycle that would result in me coughing so hard that I felt that I might throw up. I'm sure it has been really pleasant for my students to witness these coughing fits for the entire 3 hours of class. Luckily they were all extremely polite and didn't look too freaked out. When I woke up this morning I felt much better and since it was raining was tempted not to go to the doctor since I was already getting better. But I decided I would rather be able to breath easily and set out in the rain.
When I arrived at the clinic there was the standard look of terror on the faces of the nurses when they realized that they would have to speak to me. Eventually the figured out how to spell my name (quite a challenge to spell in Korean it turns out) and I got to see a doctor who had fairly good English. Anyway I explained to him that I couldn't breath and I needed a prescription for prednisone. He did not seem convinced no matter what I said until he whipped out his stethoscope and took a listen to my lungs. He informed me that I was weezing (a brilliant diagnosis) and that not only did I need prednisone but I also needed a bronchial dialator and some other drug. In addition I would need to have a session with my good friend the nebulizer. For those of you not in the know I spent a large part of my youth breathing medicine through a nebulizer. I felt right at home. I also could hear Peter mocking me for having to do something so dorky as breath medicine through a tube connected to a huge machine that made lots of noise. After my session I was sent to the pharmacy where I picked up my drugs (a whopping $10 for 4 pills three times a day for three days).
It was quite a successful trip, I only wish that I had gone about three days ago. I am so used to not being able to completely breath that it doesn't really occur to me that I shouldn't have to struggle to breath to the point of not wanting to move for fear of needing to take a deep breath. Of course it takes my mother who had to spend years going to doctors appointments and giving me chest PT (something I really could have used over these past few days) and worry about me to be able to tell just from talking to me over skype that I couldn't breath and needed to go to a doctor.
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