As a rule, I ignore cold symptoms (in myself) until one of two things happens. Either I get a fever, or my asthma inhaler is insufficient to control the chest cold symptoms. Today it was Door Number One. 102F, and the Hubs took Lizzy to school for me because I was still out cold at school time. So tired.
So I went to the doctor (heh - I'm a Doctor Who fan, and I find it difficult to write the word doctor without a capital letter. Just like I cannot write the word last without adding the -on because of my husband's name.) and he looked at my chart and listened to my lungs and did all the crap they always do. And he said this:
"Okay, here's the thing. Your history shows that you are prone to bronchitis and occasionally pneumonia. Your current symptoms suggest the former - your lungs aren't all that congested - except for the fever, which suggests the latter. The good news is that if it is pneumonia, you are likely not contagious, as it's not viral. I'd like to think about knocking this one out hard before you get all that debilitating congestion. What do you think?"
(Author's note: there is nothing I live better than a doctor who respects that I have a working brain. Even when it's not working at its best.)
So we went with his plan, which was a shot of an antibiotic in the uh... hip, and then a week of doxycycline (which I have not had before and am therefore not resistant to) and a cough suppressant that is not a narcotic. No prednisone, because it a) keeps me awake at night and I need rest, and b) makes me gain weight. Which I do not need.
Then they did a lung x-ray, which they will have the radiologist read to tell me whether it's walking pneumonia or what.
And typing this out means that I need another nap. Excuse me.