The “wages” of success.
I often have a particularly productive evening neb/vest session. A few minutes in, I begin morphing into a coughing, spitting, sneezing, mucous machine which, from appearances, one might think must be hell bent on dehydrating itself.
And the now riled-up nasal/thoracic structures masterminding all the clamor are in no mood to suddenly go quiescent just because I switch off the power driving the therapeutic contraptions. No, they come along wherever I go for the next quarter hour or so. Then finally, happily, the coughing and sneezing and spitting subside and baseline appears on the horizon and I’m sufficiently recovered to put the experience into words which, I suppose makes this onerous ailment I share with so many of you a bit more tolerable. Don