When I was in the 4th grade, I got double pneumonia and almost died. To refresh a memory or two, I had a fever of 106 for 3 days. It was awful. Despite that, I worked hard to get my lungs back in shape by running and bicycling. Things were good, until I became homeless.
The fan in the sleeping room at the mission blew on me all night. There was nothing I could do. However, I developed a cough. It got worse. I went to the ER, and they told me I had pneumonia. They gave me some antibiotics and sent me on my way. I went through the medicine and felt fine. Then, the coughing returned. I went back to the ER, and they diagnosed it again as pneumonia. They gave me the same meds and sent me on my way. This cycle went on for almost six months.
At one point, I was coughing my lungs out. I don't think they wanted to admit me, since I was homeless. I was coughing constantly in bed. I know that I was disturbing the other guys, but I just couldn't stop coughing. It got to the point that the only way I could sleep was to pass out from coughing. It took all of my energy. One ER doctor accused me of coming in there just to get drugs. I knew the head of the hospital and wrote him a letter about that doctor and his lack of bedside manner. A week later, the doctor wrote a letter to me apologizing for his accusations. I definitely wasn't faking it.
I would walk down the street coughing and spitting. I guess the plants didn't need watering, thanks to me. I was so sick that I sat down on a curb and couldn't stop coughing. Some construction workers in a truck stopped and asked if I needed help. I waved them on by.
One night, some of the guys at the mission had enough of my coughing. One of them, who was the chess master, said he had a pill that would help me sleep. I took it, and it knocked me for a loop. I went into a bathroom stall and collapsed. I couldn't get up. I yelled for someone to call the security guard. I needed an ambulance. The guard came and helped me down the stairs to the waiting ambulance to take me two blocks to the hospital. They rushed me into the ER and asked me what I had taken. I didn't know. They gave me sulfa to counteract the pill. I started feeling a little better, and they sent me on my way. As I was walking back to the mission, I felt my throat starting to swell. I was having trouble breathing and talking. When I got back to the mission, I was turning blue. They called for another ambulance and got me back to the ER. It turned out that I was allergic to sulfa. I had no clue.
The doctors diagnosed me with dyspnea. The bottom of my lungs had been damaged by the almost six months of pneumonia. My stamina was gone. I couldn't walk up a hill without being out of breath. No more running or bicycling. Stairs became a problem. I could no longer sing. I couldn't do what I had done before now. When I left the mission and moved into the winter shelter, which I will talk about later, my pneumonia went away. It had better ventilation.
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