Pneumonia: Don’t Get It

X did his best to take care of me, but finally he became unhinged. I fled the home with what I could manage to load after booking a hotel room on April 19th. Why?  I had been ill with pneumonia for 12 days, but there was nowhere in the house where I could rest.

X made immense amounts of noise, and ran up and down the hallway several times an hour.  The mattress in the spare bedroom, where I had started sleeping as my illness worsened, was soaked.  The master suite bedroom featured the loud, irregular clanking of an overhead dryer vent.  To add insult to injury, the living room couch, my last resort, was not linked properly, so I fell into the inevitable hole between sections.

I started coughing up arterial blood on Sunday the 21st.

I waited until after I saw the doctor and got test results before I called X so he wouldn’t get too upset. So I called him on Monday night and left a message.  He called back and said he was glad I finally got treatment. I could not do much more than make it into the kitchen for food.  I went to the grocery store a couple of times, in ten minute increments.

A few days later, he showed up and asked me what I was going to cook him for dinner.

It got lots worse after that.

We broke up on August 23, 2011.

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