That’s why I hate PFTs.
Today, at my post hemoptysis appointment, I took a punch. Not a terrible punch, but I felt it. PFTs were down a bit but not terrible. Not enough to warrant a jail sentence.
The psychology is tough though: Can I regain the lost lung function?
What would the fox do? I ask. “Benzyl Isothiocyanates,” says the fox.
Oh, well. I’m still in the fight. That’s the good news. Not sure what I’m going to do about the hemoptysis in the long run. Got the “1% chance embolization can cut off blood supply to your spinal cord” speech.
Wet my pants and went home. Ate my broccoli and slaw and strategized my next punch.