Just Leave The Doctoring To The Doctors

I have just been diagnosed with pretty bad asthma. I have to use my inhaler every hour and check my peak flow, as well, to see if I also need a controller.

I’m at my swimming team practice. I take a puff from my inhaler. Five minutes later…

Coach: *Aggressive* “Why aren’t you in the pool?”

Me: “Because I need to wait fifteen minutes to do my peak flow before getting back into the water.”

Coach: *Indignant* “What exactly is a peak flow? And why do you need to do it every hour?!”

Me: “My peak flow is this.”

I wave the hand containing my peak flow monitor.

Me: “I blow into it, and it gives me a number. I do it three times — actually, four, because the first one doesn’t count — and write it down for my doctor—”

Coach: “Hey, [Assistant Coach], everyone needs to do 100 more, because the first one doesn’t count!”

And he laughs at his own terrible joke.

Me: *Keeps calm* “Well, it’s to make sure I get the most accurate data; it’s to see if I need a controller as well as an inhaler for my action-induced asthma—”

Coach: “It’s not possible for you to have action-induced asthma or to have it acting up from the two-hour swim workout. I know about these things. You would need to keep your heart rate up very high for that, and you aren’t.” 

He acts like he’s won.

Me: “Well, I’m just doing what the asthma specialist said to.”

I imagine his head being separated from his head by a soccer ball as he stands there with a triumphant look on his face.

After practice, I tell my mom what happened.

Mom: “He asked me about your asthma earlier, and I explained it to him. I even asked him if you were performing better with the inhaler, and he admitted you were. But he said it quite reluctantly.”

Me: *Under my breath* “I am going to kill my teacher.”